In-person visits can take many forms, depending on what’s needed at any given time. Sometimes a caregiver needs a break, and I sit with the person who is dying. They may want to reminisce, or they may prefer silence. I might brush their hair, read to them, or offer a gentle hand massage. I come with no agenda other than to help people feel listened to and cared for.
People are multidimensional, even the ones who light up rooms. Together, we can craft an obituary that captures a real person in all their complexity.
We can also get creative with legacy projects for family and friends: a collection of memories or words of wisdom, a photo book, treasured recipes, the stories behind belongings you're passing down, or drawn from significant people, places and experiences.
“There are no words to express my gratitude for your help during this difficult time. Thanks again from the bottom of my heart.”
“We really appreciate everything you’ve done for Mom, and she has become familiar and comfortable with you. Thank you again for your caring about her.”
“If I needed help with the decline or death of a loved one, I imagine Jon Ann Lindsey would be a comforting call to make and I’d be lucky to lean on someone as capable and trustworthy as Jon Ann.”
I can't pinpoint a singular event or loss that led me to become an end-of-life doula. It's been more of a slow burn — a spark of interest that over time lit a “now-or-never” fire under me.
When I first learned about hospice, the emphasis on comfort care and alleviating pain for the dying made me think, “yeah, THAT is profound work.” My years as a writer and editor were satisfying enough—occasionally even exciting—but enduring or leaving a mark? Not often.
Over the years, the idea of peaceful death took on more significance, and I mentally filed away examples: the astonishing “Murder and Serenity” chapter in Sherwin B. Nuland's How We Die; my mother-in-law's tranquil death in hospice; the emergence of Medical Aid in Dying for people stricken by the cruelest diseases.
Not every death is serene, but I recognized that I have the conviction and disposition to nudge the needle in that direction, or at least provide solace when death refuses to come in peace.
So what does end-of-life help look like from a non-medical word nerd? Well…the journalist in me can write a well-rounded obit or create a keepsake life-review project. Hospice volunteering has shown me that comfort measures like music or gentle touch can make someone with terminal cancer sleep peacefully for a time, or that a doll can bring out joyful moments of mothering for someone with advanced dementia. I can step in so exhausted caregivers can re-enter their routines for a while, or take on planning tasks so they can spend the final days with the person who's dying.
Finally, my end-of-life doula certificate from the University of Vermont and hospice volunteer training through Kaiser Permanente have given me knowledge, resources, and a network of experienced professionals to draw on when needed.
Contact me for more information or to discuss your needs. There's no obligation.
I’ve spent (so. many.) years at tech companies simplifying language—making complicated technology easier to understand and swapping jargon for plain language. In the true spirit of the book Don’t Make Me Think, I prefer terms that don’t need subtitles.
Which brings me to…“end-of-life doula?”
When I tell people about my new vocation, I can practically see the question marks erupting from their heads.
Then I explain some of the things I do: sit with someone who’s dying so their caregiver can run to Costco; help them write letters to be sent after they’re gone; talk about what they want their final days to look like (houseful of people? Just a few?) Essentially, I’m there to be with the person as a person, not as a patient. Easy enough.
Still, I wish there were a simpler name.
“Death doula” gets far more searches on Google, but I think that puts the emphasis in the wrong place. “End-of-life guide” feels serene but is no less fuzzy. “Death midwife” sounds to me like giving birth to death, and that just makes my head hurt.
So for me, “end-of-life doula” it is, complete with an implied asterisk:
Emotional and practical support for people nearing the end of their lives (and the people who love them).
End-of-life care