On the other side of fear is your freedom.

Working in hospice care is more than just a job—it’s a calling. I am the person who meets families when their loved ones are standing at the crossroads of life and death. I am the one who gently informs them about the benefits and journey of hospice, guiding them through what can be one of the most difficult decisions they’ll ever make. Once they are ready, I handle the consents, gather medical history, and coordinate everything to ensure their loved one receives the care and comfort they need.

But here’s the truth: this job is incredibly hard. Not in the same way our brave nurses face challenges—they are the heroes who care for patients until they cross over. My difficulty comes from navigating the competitive and, at times, cutthroat hospice industry. It’s disheartening to admit, but there is a sleazy side to this work. And that’s not me. I entered this field because of my own grief—because I wanted to bring light and comfort to others who are experiencing loss and pain. My purpose has always been to give, never to take.

Today was one of those days that tested that purpose. I tried my best to help a family provide care and comfort for their beloved mother—a woman who had endured 20 years of suffering. Our connection was immediate and sincere. After our first conversation, they sought our services, hoping for better care. Within 24 hours, their mother’s condition worsened, and she was admitted to the ICU. I stayed in constant contact with the family, visiting the hospital to advocate for their mother and keep them informed. I never pushed or pursued them—they came to me, and my intentions were genuine. Their gratitude gave me purpose. My mission was clear: to support them with compassion and information.

Today was supposed to be her discharge day. The plan was to return her to her care facility and begin hospice services to provide additional comfort. Everything was set—until it wasn’t. Someone else got to the family. Five minutes after signing consents, they changed their minds. The warmth and trust we had built vanished, replaced by a firm, “I don’t want the services at the moment.”

It was a gut punch. Not because I lost a case—but because I never saw this woman as an opportunity. My goal was never about gaining anything for myself. It was about giving this family and their mother the comfort they deserved. Days like today make this work feel even heavier. But even in moments like this, I remind myself why I started: to bring light where there is darkness and to give, not to take.

I don’t ever want to be viewed as someone preying on families or the sick for personal gain. I know my truth, and I should leave it at that—but that’s hard for me. The events replay in my mind, and I question how I could have made this better for everyone involved. How do I succeed in my mission to help others find closure and comfort? How do I ease the pain for others—and for myself? Today was hard. I hope for a better tomorrow.

Hospice care is a specialized form of medical care designed to provide comfort and support to individuals with life-limiting illnesses. It focuses on quality of life rather than curative treatments, addressing physical, emotional, and spiritual needs. Hospice also extends compassionate care and guidance to families, helping them navigate the challenges of end-of-life decisions and providing comfort through their loved one’s final journey.