A few of us were sitting in the library at Hospital Hospitality House the other day.

First: Yes, we have a library, full of wonderful donated books and games. Secondly: This is not something that we get to do very often.

It was a day much like any other, and as we discussed our plans for the upcoming Fancy Hat Party and Hats Off shindigs, we heard some discussion from around the corner. At the start of the meeting we had noticed a few folks checking in and the voice we now heard seemed to be giving a sort of tour:

“That’s the library. If you’d like something to read and maybe pass the time, there’s a pretty good selection in there. If you go through those doors, you’ll find the dining room. We’ve got a group coming in tonight to make spaghetti for everybody, and they’re nice ladies. They usually get a good Bingo game going after supper.”

The person leading this tour? The gentleman who drives our courtesy van. He works for us, driving people to and from their appointments and visits with the doctors nearby. But he seems to have expanded his list of responsibilities. In addition to knowing which building houses chemotherapy and which reconstructive surgery, he knows where to get a good sandwich, where to find a newspaper or toothbrush, and where to sit and look at the Governor’s mansion in the afternoon sun. And every time he brings a new guest to Hospital Hospitality House, he offers a little guided tour.

This made us think about how things sort of operate here at The House. While few of us are really full-time “employees,” we all have some sort of title or job description. But everyone who “works” here does a little bit of everything. Volunteers perform many of the tasks that keep our oars in the water. The spaghetti dinner was provided by volunteers. Songs and concerts during holidays are sung and played by volunteers. Things like Bingo are organized by volunteers. They are all people who have chosen to give, and to give to us.

We always look forward to annual events like our Fancy Hat Party, and they are always a blast, but they are a necessity. The funds that are raised at these events pay for things like detergent and new bed linens and electricity and indoor plumbing. It is your generosity that keeps our doors open.

Winston Churchill said,

“We make a living by what we do, but we make a life by what we give.”

It sometimes seems that we live at Hospital Hospitality House, and many of us make our living here, but for our guests, it means their life. When we pause for a moment and think of it that way, we’re living pretty large.

Going to the doctor is scary, isn’t it?  When you meet with a medical professional, what they tell you can be scary.  And it carries some gravity, because they are, after all, professionals, right?

Sort of.

Your doctors are the best source of information and should be relied on when making decisions about your health.  Remember that they are, after all, human beings first, and can make mistakes.  In fact, over 100,000 people will die in America this year from a medical mistake.  They can be as drastic as a mistake during a surgery to something seemingly careless like a miss-read prescription.  Sometimes it is a doctor’s physical action, and sometimes it is inadequate care.

But there are things that you can do to help reduce your risk (and your doctor’s risk!) and improve the quality of your care.  And it’s really very similar to talking to your auto mechanic.

When you take your car in for service, you tend to be pretty specific about what’s going on.  You describe a certain sound, a vibration, or colorful smoke spouting off from under the hood.  When you meet with your doctor, you should share everything.  Your discussion should not be limited to what you immediately think is wrong with you.  One symptom may be linked to another and may be an indication of a larger problem.  Doing this is easier if you prepare a list of what’s ailing you.

You also question your mechanic after he’s made his initial diagnosis.  When your doctor offers his or her opinion, start asking your questions.  “What causes this?”  “How will you fix this?”  “Are there any other things that could cause this to happen?”  This is partly for your own information, but it will often make your doctor think outside of the box, and perhaps realize that they’ve diagnosed incorrectly or overlooked something.

Use your common sense.  If your transmission is slipping and the garage wants to sell you brakes, you would certainly question that.  You are truly the best judge of how you feel, so take that confidence into your doctor’s office.  If you are used to certain medications, question the side effects and interactions of any new ones.  Ask why a doctor recommends a certain medication or procedure.

When you’ve gone to a doctor, or to your mechanic, you have formed a relationship.  It’s a partnership of sorts, with one of you needing service and the other providing it.  Keep this in mind on your next visit, and help your doctor make the right decisions for you.

After all, doctors don’t offer rentals.

We spent some time over the recent holidays watching football.  Don’t ask, don’t judge, and we were sorry, like everyone else, when the Redskins lost.  But this is not about that.

One of the things that we caught during the Holidays was the Rose Bowl Parade.  That’s the big one in Pasadena, California.  What made it kind of nice this year was seeing Hannah Storm.  She’s a big-time ESPN anchor and sports junkie.  We were kind of worried about her.  Storm, you see, had an accident and was severely burned.  During her Rose Bowl appearance, she had fake hair and eyebrows, and you could clearly see one of her hands bandaged.

Hannah Storm was trying to light a gas grill when it sent a fireball into her face, leaving her with first and second-degree burns on her face, hands and chest.  She lost most of her hair and is still battling an infection.  She was glad to be back on the air, but still has trouble with her hand, making it difficult for her to pick things up or flip through cue cards.

Seeing Storm made us think of some other burn victims.  Most are like her, and never expected to get burned.  It was some accident or moment of carelessness.  And sadly, it frequently happens to children.  Perhaps it’s childhood curiosity or the fact that they don’t yet know what qualifies as dangerous?

Later that evening, while trying to digest too much turkey and tired of football, we saw something inspiring on PBS.  It was a profile of a camp designed specifically for young burn victims.  Or as they like to call them, burn “survivors.”  We like that better.  You can see it for yourself here.

The Central Virginia Burn Camp (CVBC) was established around 20 years ago in Charlottesville by the Charlottesville Professional Firefighters Association.  Firefighters, like burn survivors, have some first-hand experience in the dangers and perils of dealing with fire and its destructive nature.  For those who have been injured, this destruction is in the form of scars, loss of hair, and often involves months and years of surgery and rehabilitation.  CVBC was created to provide youngsters from 7 to 17 a place to be kids, among people who have had similar experiences, and free from the worry of stares and questions.  For a week every summer, they just have to be kids.

The Camp is staffed with counselors, therapists, nurses, and firefighters from throughout the state.  They engage their young charges in swimming, boating, horseback riding, arts and crafts, and other fun summertime activities.  Just like every other kid.  And yes, they have an evening bonfire.  What would summer camp be without one?

The best part about it is this:  Central Virginia Burn Camp is free.   They receive sponsorships from a ton of firefighter associations, the University of Virginia Health System, and other like-minded groups.  They also are like us, a non-profit, and as such count on donations from individuals to keep stocked up in sunscreen and marshmallows.   Many of the kids who go there have been treated right here at VCU and we’ve met some families as their kids go back and forth for therapy and reconstruction surgeries.

You probably know that we’re pretty passionate about the “littles” that spend time here at Hospital Hospitality House.  And we genuinely need and appreciate your donations of time, money and goods.  But we had to share this story.

We love the holidays.  It’s a wonderful time.  Even here at Hospital Hospitality House of Richmond!  Last week Love Limousine and New Market/Afton Chemicals joined forces to take a bunch of our guests on a tour to see some of Richmond’s tackiest holiday lights and displays.  In a limousine!  That was great and everyone had a great time.

But the holidays can be tough on people, and especially the folks who stay with us here at Hospital Hospitality House.  This time of year often brings on bouts of depression and anxiety.  Imagine dealing with this when you’re already dealing with a physical medical crisis!

There are many different forms of depression, and they manifest themselves in a number of different ways.  But there are some common signs that you may notice in yourself or others.

A common sign of depression is irritability.  You’re worried about holiday shopping and visits, or you’re stuck here with us and miss your family, and you begin to lash out.  Feeling short-tempered?  It’s common, but may be a sign of something deeper.  During this stressful time, learn how to say no.  Take a moment to yourself.  It’s important to understand that you can’t be everywhere doing everything for everyone.  You can’t really control everything, and understanding that will help you to control your emotions.

Another sign is losing interest.  This may mean losing interest in eating, interacting with others, or quitting a hobby that one enjoys.  It’s important to move forward.  As much as we like to stuff ourselves during this time of year, move forward with your healthy eating.  It gives you energy and is important to your health.  If you play bridge every Wednesday, then play bridge.  We often have volunteers here at Hospital Hospitality House who engage our guests in games.  Keeps things interesting.  Likewise, if a friend or loved one seems to fall out of touch it might be a good time to reconnect.  Just a check-in.

Understand that your current feelings or medical condition are something that you experience but are not who you are.  There might be a loss of self-worth if you cannot do some of the things that you were used to, like household chores or a sport.  But these feelings and conditions can change.  Sure, you may have to make modifications to your life, but being depressed or sick isn’t who you are.  Just like that feeling of control, you can’t control these feelings any more than you can cure your own heart disease. 

Which brings us to the most important point:  There’s always help.  No matter how much you think that you might know about yourself, there’s someone who probably knows better.  Those of us who are parents understand this.  And this help may mean taking a medication to treat your symptoms, just like a physical disease.  You often face rehabilitation after a medical crisis, and you may for your depression as well.  Instead of physical therapy it’s mental therapy.  This means sitting with a professional and talking through your worries.  They may help to bring some clarity or sense to what you’re feeling.

Not everyone has the leisure of a stress-free holiday.  And some may experience more stress than others.  This stress may cause issues with mental health.  Get to know the warning signs and tackle it head on.

When you end up in the hospital you meet a lot of new people.  Most of them are medical professionals.  There are the doctors, the specialists, internists, nurses, technicians, and others that see to your care.  In the case of an extended stay, you may see a crowd of anonymous faces that float in and out of your room at all hours of the day and night.  We oftentimes hear the complaint that these professionals seem cold or uncaring.  A nurse that never smiled or a doctor who never made eye contact.  Well, they are professionals, and they are trying to do the difficult job of making you better, and sometimes saving your life.

But do they form an emotional attachment to their patients?

We’re not medical professionals, so we can’t say for sure, but we do know that we form a connection to the guests that stay with us at Hospital Hospitality House of Richmond.  We listen to their stories, share their laughs, and in some cases their tears.  Truth be told, we often go home and laugh about our day, and often cry about the horrible things that some of our guests are having to endure.  We try to keep the laugh to cry ratio pretty well slanted to the “laugh” side.

image by Dean Hoffmeyer - Richmond Times-Dispatch

We were reminded of this when Maria and Teresa came back to Richmond from the Dominican Republic for their checkups.  Remember them:  “Our Twins?”  They’re recovering nicely from the surgery that separated them, are growing, putting on weight, and are pretty much off of all of their medications.  The initial surgery involved a team of over 40 medical staff, and that doesn’t include the plastic surgeons, care nurses and others who contributed to their care.  And every time we met one of these people we could see that they were passionate about the twins.  It seemed to us that they were emotionally connected.

Medical professionals are just like anyone else – they like to succeed.  And they no doubt celebrate their successes and get emotional about their failures.  But when a patient doesn’t respond to a treatment or things don’t go well, it isn’t as if they’ve blown a tire or missed a putt or allowed a cake to burn; they’re responsible for someone’s life.  And we imagine that it may take a certain amount of emotional detachment to deal with that on a daily basis.  But seeing the joy on everyone’s faces every time that the twins were around, and especially on their most recent visit, told us that these folks were passionate about the girls and their care.  And they, too, laughed when the girls laughed, and there were probably some pats on backs and “Good Job” exchanges behind the scenes.

We got another reminder when we watched the coverage of Hurricane Sandy.  At one point, Bellevue Hospital, the oldest hospital in the United States and an icon in New York City, began to flood.  They were running on precarious generators that were beginning to shut down due to the effects of the storm.  In the midst of the rain, wind and rising waters, they made the decision to evacuate their patients, starting with those at the highest risk.  Many of them were infants.  This image said it all:

These people went out in the face of a raging hurricane that was soon to ravage the New York area, and here was a nurse with a newborn clutched to her chest.  Sure, that was probably the easiest way to transport the baby, but is there any doubt that she was emotionally involved and passionate about its safety?

We think not.

There once was a man who lived to a very ripe, old age.  He was born in the hardscrabble times when electricity was a luxury.  The town of his youth, nestled in the hills and hollers of West Virginia, was one of general stores, horse-drawn carts and the rumble of coal trains.

He was handy with his hands and learned carpentry, a trade that brought him some acclaim.  In a time of wealthy barons, he could make beautiful spiral staircases with a saw, a hammer, hand-made nails and freshly milled oak.  His success as a carpenter allowed him to buy enough land to graze some cattle and plant a few vegetables.  He married his childhood sweetheart and began his family – five children, all daughters.  As each one grew and married, he gave her a slice of the family farm, and they built their own homes along the road that defined the property.

During the First World War, unable to serve due to his status as a family man, he rode hobo-style to Norfolk, where he did his part by helping to build warships.  On return trips to his beloved mountains, he frequently walked most of the way.  He returned again in World War II, adding to the effort for many months before returning to his home and family.

He saw each of his daughters grow, saw to his farm, and watched the passing seasons, year after year after year.  He welcomed grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and great-great grandchildren.  Every morning, he woke up and wandered to the henhouse, gathered some eggs, and entered his kitchen to prepare a breakfast.  Shortly after lunch, he took some good sweet tea onto the shade porch and enjoyed a short nap.  Every afternoon, he opened the gate and called in his cows for feeding and milking.  As dusk bathed the holler in coolness and fireflies, he walked the rows of his garden, toeing the dirt and pinching off errant blooms.

He lived to a ripe, old age.  When he had happily lived into his 90’s, many in the now large family asked about his secret to longevity.  How did he do it?

There’s an island off the coast of Greece that is referred to as the place where “people forget to die.”  Ikaria is a windswept place that Homer mentioned in The Iliad.  On Ikaria, nobody wears a watch.  If someone is coming by for lunch, it could mean noon or it could mean early evening.  The local doctor doesn’t open his office until at least 11 a.m., and the locals can often be found gathered around each other’s dining room tables playing dominos and drinking local wine until after midnight.  They spend a great deal of time socializing, and there is a great sense of community.  According to the residents, it is not a “me” place, it is an “us” place.

And it has an unusual concentration of people who are over 100 years young.  They have a reputation for longevity.

Scientists have begun to study this and other clusters of “old age” around the world.  Part of what they’ve found is a sense of life.  On Ikaria, the sense of community somewhat “shames” people into participating.  “We’re having a cookout.  You have to come.”  And people bow to the peer pressure.  Another cluster of healthy elders is in Costa Rica, where the local slogan is “plan de vida.”  A community of elders on Okinawa refer to it as “ikigai.”  For the Costa Ricans it means “plan for life,” and on Okinawa it means “something one lives for,” but in both cases it means “why I wake up each morning.”  All of these communities seemed to have a secret for longevity.

As researchers looked into areas like Ikaria, Costa Rica, Okinawa, Sardinia and other spots that seemed to have beaten Father Time, they discovered that the residents had some things in common:

In a time when Americans spend $30 billion annually on vitamins and supplements, these people ate simply.  They often grew much of what was on their dinner table, and had a noted absence of processed sugars and flours.
They enjoyed a cocktail, but in moderation, in social settings, and with a meal, among friends.
They all belonged to a faith-based community.  It was used for spiritual and social connections.
They all took a few minutes each day to unwind, through prayer, meditation, or a daily nap.
They didn’t lift weights, jog, or join gyms.  Health clubs in America are a $20 billion dollar industry.  In 1970 40% of all children walked to school.  Today it is just over 10%.  These people walked to their neighbors, to the market, or through their gardens.  Physical activity was just a natural part of their daily lives.

There is great discussion among the lab coat crowd about these groups of happy old people.  Is it the fact that they’re doing something positive or that they’re not doing negative things?  Perhaps it was the fact that they’d all surrounded themselves with an active, caring community?  Or maybe that they all took some time to de-stress every day?

Maybe our friend in West Virginia had a mountaineer version of “ikigai?”  Take a minute and think about that…

We never really get tired of saying it:  We’re lucky.

We’re still kind of recovering from our Savor Dinner.  It was a great time, with some wonderful food and entertainment, and we got to spend an evening among fantastic friends.  We had some amazing volunteers, and in the end raised some money for Hospital Hospitality House of Richmond.

Folks like Ruth’s Chris Steak House, Buckheads, and The Roosevelt donated packages to our silent auction at Savor.  There were packages from Nordstrom, the Valentine Museum, VCU, Firehouse Theater, and a weekend at The Jefferson.  Wolfgang Jasper donated a photography package, and Hayes & Fisk took a ton of pictures that allowed us to look back on the evening and smile.

And then we came home, where the good people of Spotts Fain were serving dinner to our guests.  A few nights later, the Junior League of Richmond showed up to serve chili and engage our family in some Bingo.  And then Cathedral of the Sacred Heart showed up with a hot meal.  The Virginia Society of CPAs showed up and spruced up the paint around our entrance.  Hundreds of anonymous friends donated money in our name for the Amazing Raise, just because they wanted to.

And then a truck pulled up.

We keep a running “wish list” for Hospital Hospitality House, and it’s usually full of sundry items that people often forget in their rush to get to Richmond.  When you’re packing for a transplant or chemo, and especially in an emergency situation, you often forget things or realize a day late that you need essentials.  We’ve been lucky to receive wonderful gifts from Wells Fargo and Richmond Aquarium, but the truck at our back door was from Georgia Pacific.  Georgia Pacific is a pretty huge company, and their biggest bit of business is in paper products.  Their truck, and our delivery, was just that – paper towels, toilet tissue, cups, plates and more.  And it was a year’s supply.

Think about that for a second:  One Year’s Supply of Paper Products.  That’s huge.

We will see almost 55,000 overnight guests over the course of the next year.  Some folks stay with us for a night or two, while some are here for months.  Some come alone, while some are here with family or other supporters.  But we’re just about full each and every night of the year.  Think about your own home over a holiday weekend.  Parents coming to town?  Grandchildren visiting?  Your weird uncle with his moth-eaten sweater?  And how many rolls of toilet tissue will your guests go through over the course of a few days?  That stuff doesn’t grow on trees!

Well, it kind of does, actually, but you get the point.

You see, we don’t do this to get rich.  We do it because we saw a need.  We wanted to provide a safe, affordable place for people to stay when they found themselves in a medical crisis.  And hopefully feel like someone cared about them.  Like when your crazy uncle comes for Thanksgiving.  And as one of the oldest such places in the United States (not to mention the largest that operates wholly on donations) we count on the contributions of each and every one of you to remain nonprofit and still provide this service.  Sometimes that donation is a couple of bucks in a silent auction.  Sometimes it’s a few hours of calling bingo.  Sometimes it’s a bucket of paint and some eager helpers.  Sometimes it’s a hot meal and breaking bread with a lonesome person.

Sometimes it’s a truck full of paper products.

Thanks.

Thanks to Hayes & Fisk for taking such amazing pictures at Savor!