Clark assured him that she would, but that first she had to check on her other patients. Ninety minutes later, she hurried back to the man's room — only to discover he had died.
Those feelings of responsibility and compassion — from Clarke and from other patient advocates — have given birth to a movement spreading to U.S. hospitals across the nation. The goal: to ensure every patient has a fellow human being at his or her bedside at the time of death.
Among the efforts is No One Dies Alone, a program Clarke later helped create. The program, begun in 2001, relies on volunteers to sit with terminally ill patients and has since spread to several hundred hospitals, including St. Joseph Hospital in Orange and its sister institution Mission Hospital in Mission Viejo. St. John's Health Center in Santa Monica will launch the program this month.
One of the oldest such programs, Twilight Brigade, Compassion in Action, specifically serves veterans at Veterans Affairs hospitals and nursing homes across the country.
And Sacred Dying, begun in 2000 in San Francisco, trains organizations such as hospices and churches how to provide a spiritual atmosphere for people who might otherwise die alone.
Such efforts are sorely needed, organizers say. Although hospitalized patients routinely receive all the necessary medical care in their final days and hours of life, including close oversight by a doctor and nurses, these programs provide something that can fall between the cracks: a human presence.
"The two things people fear the most about dying are being in pain and being alone," Clarke says. "We try to honor the wishes of the dying."
Isolated in today's world
The need for such efforts is a reflection of modern life, say Clarke and others who operate death-vigil programs. Nurses and chaplains are often stretched too thin to be with every dying patient as they wait out those final hours.
And a surprising number of people don't have family members available to them — whether because of sudden, catastrophic accidents or physical or emotional distance.
"It's really acknowledging our reality," says Cindy Mueller, a Mission Hospital employee who volunteers for No One Dies Alone. "We have homeless people. We have people who are estranged from their families, people who are isolated, people whose family members have all died before them. We have family members who are too exhausted to be there."
Nurses are well aware that too many people — no one keeps official statistics — die alone in the hospital, says Mary Luthy, manager of community benefits at St. John's Health Center. A former nurse, Luthy is the hospital's No One Dies Alone administrator.
"It rings very true for anyone who has ever done nursing," Luthy says. "It is heartbreaking to have someone dying alone and have a full schedule of work."
Nor can hospital chaplains be available to everyone who needs them, says Michael Moran, Mission Hospital's director of spiritual care. "I would be with them in the evening and then say good night and the next morning I found they had died during the night alone," he says. "It happens too often."
Hospice programs usually provide volunteers at the time of death if family is unavailable, but No One Dies Alone and similar programs provide a safety net to those patients who are not in prearranged hospice care, Clarke says.
"This is a spontaneous situation where somebody ends up alone in the hospital," she says.