“I”™ve done things backwards,” says Greg Gilman, busily directing deliverymen bringing in cartons of clothes that make laborers swoon. Labels like Redwing or Carhartt are not as glitzy as Givenchy or De La Renta, but don”™t tell that to the guys who dig ditches or crawl through spidery spaces pulling wire. Weber”™s is a working man”™s store and the only kind of business Gilman has run all his adult life.
Gilman”™s father bought the store from its original owner. Greg Gilman has been sole proprietor of Middletown”™s oldest clothing store since he graduated college. Seemingly incongruously, work with the terminally ill came naturally. “I sat on a horde of boards. Eventually, it got boring. I decided to get off my duff and actually do something.”
Why Hospice? Gilman”™s wife, Janet “Jimmy” Moffatt-Gilman was one of the original board members of the Orange County Mental Health Association. He”™d heard of Hospice”™s work through his wife and knew that it was something he wanted to take on.
“You spend 10 weeks in intensive training, at least three days and one night each week. There are all different kinds of volunteering jobs … I”™m a trained caregiver. I either go in to give the actual caregiver respite ”“ maybe they need to go out and get some errands done or see a doctor themselves ”“ or to provide companionship to the dying. They get a chance to verbalize things they may not want to say to their family. Maybe I”™ll just sit there and read a book. Every situation is unique.”
One thing Gilman has learned about dying: “The façade comes down. These folks know they are dying. They don”™t have to put on an act, they can just be themselves. No more b.s. In some ways, it”™s a relief for them.”
The same goes for the families. They let their hair down with the volunteers, too. The end result is guys like Gilman give families a shoulder to lean on or a much-welcomed helping hand.
“For the rest of us, we have no idea what it is like for the caregiver. It”™s a 24-hour-a-day, 7-day-a-week job and they know how it will end.  If you ask the patient, ”˜Where would you rather be? In a hospital or at home?”™Â Ninety-nine per cent of them want to be in their homes with people that care about them and who they love. In dollars and cents, the savings to the health-care industry is enormous. The cost of spending the last six months of life in a hospital are unbelievable; they are that expensive. Hospice is the kinder, compassionate way to treat those who are dying ”¦ keep them as pain free as possible and let them go in peace, surrounded by their loved ones and cherished possessions, not hooked up with tubes and monitors.”
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There are occasions when the caregiver can no longer provide the care. “Perhaps you”™ll find a frail old woman trying to lift a 200-pound person. Well, that”™s when you need the services of a nursing home. We still work with the family when that happens. We are very lucky to have a Hospice facility up in Newburgh. There are only 11 beds in it, and they aren”™t empty. The people and volunteers who work there are special because they know what the end result will be. They are there because they want to make life as easy as possible for the person who is meeting death and their families.”
Volunteering can mean visiting as often as several times a week or as little as an hour a week, depending upon the family the caseworker matches the volunteer with. In addition to working with more than 25 families during his stint with Hospice in the western part of the county where he lives, Gilman runs a free  bi-weekly bereavement group. “It isn”™t just for those who have lost someone through their contact with Hospice. It”™s for anyone who has lost a loved one, whether it was a prolonged illness or a sudden tragedy. People need to talk it out ”“ their pain, guilt, or resentment ”“ whatever it is they are feeling. The purpose is to help, to get them to move forward with their lives.”
Gilman says being a Hospice volunteer is not depressing, but knowing what the end result will be “is sad ”¦ the difference is, it is not your loved one who is dying; you care about the people, but there is no familial tie. They are aching ”“ you are trying to comfort.”
One lesson Gilman”™s learned from volunteering is that everyday stresses ”“ a wrong delivery, a missed meal, a traffic jam ”“ are trivial compared with what the dying and their families are experiencing. “Right now, I”™m nursing a broken rotator cuff. Broke it playing tennis, just like that. Volunteering for an organization like Hospice puts those aggravations of life in their proper perspective: I”™m nursing a rotator cuff. These families are coming to terms with the end of a  life.”
While Gilman is thinking of leaving the business, retiring from Hospice volunteering is not on the horizon. “If I can make a difference in someone”™s life, make those last few months a bit easier for the caregiver and the person receiving the care, it is an indescribable reward.” And there”™s an added benefit to his pending retirement: Â “It will give me more time to volunteer,” says Gilman.
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