Evelyn’s House does all it can to relieve death’s sting

You could hang out for quite a long time at Evelyn’s House without realizing that it’s a hospice. Kids are outside in the playhouse; adults sun themselves as deer nibble at the garden’s edges; in the cool of the library, two friends play chess on a game table that came straight from namesake Evelyn Newman’s house—and was witness to her famous wit, flair, and hospitality.

You’d sense the profound sadness, of course: Tissue boxes outnumber electrical outlets, and treats, such as the 24/7 supply of chocolate ice cream mandated by a donor (he checks regularly) are a little too deliberate. But even if you peer into a patient room, you won’t see oxygen and suction equipment unless someone slides up the framed painting that conceals their storage. Function’s made elegant, and this last, gentlest medical care factors in people’s beliefs and their loves. 

“One woman wanted her horse to be able to visit,” recalls Dr. Patrick White, chief medical officer for BJC Hospice, “and because everyone has a private patio”—and every bed can be wheeled through its doors—“we said yes. Another patient was of a Norse religion and wanted to die with a sword in his hand. We compromised on wood, not metal.”

After all, he wouldn’t need it to fight: Evelyn’s House uses beauty, nature, calm, and the latest in palliative care to ease life’s end. “For so many years, we have looked at death as a medical failure,” White says. “Death is a natural part of life. By getting patients this time with their families and figuring out what’s important to them, we can do them an even greater service than if they lived longer in an ICU.”

One of the first physicians in the country to do a fellowship in comparative effectiveness research, he says hospice patients aren’t a market for pharmaceutical companies’ more expensive medications, “so there’s a need for good research.” Currently he’s investigating ways to best relieve the pain and nausea of advanced cancer. 

Evelyn’s House also offers reiki, healing touch, and expressive therapies that can lessen the need for painkillers. “One of our own nurses lost her 15-year-old son,” White says, “and it was during the music therapy that he smiled for the last time. They record the heartbeats of our pediatric patients and set them to music so the parents can always remember.” 

Patients come to Evelyn’s House from an ICU or because their pain or agitation have become too hard to manage at home. Loved ones learn about the physiology of death, so its signs lose their terror. Families find comfort in the common spaces, bringing one another dinner. Volunteers sit vigil with patients who are alone. “Patients come here and literally start crying,” White says, “because they thought they were going to a nursing home and wound up in a mansion.”