Category: COVID-19

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“He Thought The Idea Was Hilarious”

— Director Kirsten Johnson On “Killing” Her Father Repeatedly In ‘Dick Johnson Is Dead’

Kirsten Johnson directs a scene with her dad for the new documentary, “Dick Johnson Is Dead.”

By Matthew Carey

The Oscar documentary shortlist abounds with memorable love stories—between a woman and her incarcerated husband in Time, between a man and a mollusk in My Octopus Teacher, and in Dick Johnson Is Dead, between a daughter and her aging father.

Of those three films, Dick Johnson Is Dead qualifies as the most unusual stylistically. Director Kirsten Johnson, faced with her beloved father’s cognitive decline, conceived various outlandish scenarios in which her dad might die, and then filmed them.

“The premise of the movie is that we were going to kill my father over and over again with the help of stunt people until he really died for real. Why? Because we wanted to keep bringing him back to life,” Johnson tells Deadline. “I think we desperately needed to laugh because dementia will rip your heart out and you could just cry for decades if you didn’t find a way to laugh at it.”

In one scene, an air conditioner falls from high above on top over her father, crushing him. In another he takes an awful tumble down a flight of stairs, ending up in a twisted heap. Dick Johnson, a man with a genial disposition, takes part in this filmic experiment with endearing enthusiasm.

“I think cinema is play. And my father is ‘game,’ he’s game to participate in this,” Johnson comments. “He thought the idea was hilarious and it was like, ‘Okay, we’re doing this.’”

Before encroaching dementia prompted his retirement, Dick Johnson worked for decades as a psychiatrist. Perhaps appropriately, the subconscious mind informed the documentary from the start.

“I had this crazy dream where there was this casket and a man sat up—it wasn’t my dad—he said, ‘I’m Dick Johnson and I’m not dead yet,’” the director recalls. “I probably did unconsciously understand that the dementia had begun. I wasn’t consciously aware of it at that moment, but I think in the way that dreams and brains try to tell you things, now when I think about it, it was an unrecognizable man who was my father, which is sort of what the dementia would do. I think in some ways that dream was like, ‘Wake up! Your dad is changing.’”

Johnson had previously gone through the agonizing experience of losing her mother to Alzheimer’s.

“Honestly, I was like so mad to have had my mom already have it. I was like, ‘Are you kidding me?’ I was sort of enraged at the idea of having to face it again,” she confesses. “It just felt like, ‘Let me come up with another plan, another idea, another way,’ this Holy Grail of, ‘Could this be a funny movie? Please?’ We had some fun doing it and we had some tears doing it.”

The Netflix film, a strong contender for an Oscar nomination, premiered last January at the Sundance Film Festival, where it won a special jury award for Innovation in Nonfiction Storytelling. It’s gone on to win multiple honors, including Best Documentary at the Critics’ Choice Documentary Awards, as well as best writing for Johnson and Nels Bangerter and best editing for Bangerter at the IDA Documentary Awards. Dick Johnson Is Dead was named one of the top five documentaries of the year by the National Board of Review and has earned a Producers Guild Award nomination.

On paper, the concept of the film might strike some as morbid. But audiences have responded emotionally to the film’s whimsical and yet somehow frank way of confronting the prospect of a loved one’s demise.

“From my point of view, facing pain—when you can do it with people you love and with the capacity to attempt to build something new out of it, whether it’s a new relationship or whether it is transformed into some form of art—I think that that is the only hope we have,” Johnson observes. “That, in some ways, is how we have survived as people—we sort of offer back out to each other these forms or witness.”

Dick Johnson Is Dead resonates forcefully in a time when Covid-19 has claimed so many lives.

“The pandemic in some ways has opened every human up to the experience of anticipatory grief. We don’t know how much we’re going to lose and we’re afraid of how much we’re going to lose,” Johnson says. “If you love a person with a degenerative disease [like dementia] you have a great deal of experience with anticipatory grief. You’re grieving about what you’ve lost already, what you might lose, what you’re not sure when you’re going to lose.”

That’s particularly difficult to contemplate in Johnson’s case, having a father who’s meant everything to her.

“He has treasured me for the person that I am and allowed me to be sort of as big as I wanted to be…He saw me. I think so many of us struggle with not being seen or not being allowed,” Johnson tells Deadline. “That’s who he is and who he was. Even in the advanced dementia now he’ll call me and say, ‘I just want to make sure you know I love you.’”

Complete Article ↪HERE↩!

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From a prolonged pandemic, a rethink of life’s milestones?

By LEANNE ITALIE

Wedding anniversaries for Elizabeth O’Connor Cole and her husband, Michael, usually involve a dinner reservation for two at a fancy restaurant. Not this time around.

As the pandemic raged last May, the Chicago mom of four unearthed her boxed wedding gown from 19 years ago, got it zipped with help from one of her daughters and surprised her spouse.

Cole recreated their reception menu — a shrimp appetizer and beef tenderloin — and pulled out her wedding china and silver after enlisting another of her kids to DJ their first-dance song, “At Last,” for a romantic turn around the living room. And the priest who married them offered a special blessing on Zoom with friends and family joining in.

“Spontaneous and a bit chaotic,” O’Connor Cole pronounced the celebration. “Still, it was probably the most meaningful and fun anniversary we’ve had.”

As the pandemic enters its second year, there’s a pent-up longing for the recent past, especially when it comes to life’s milestones. When the crisis finally resolves, will our new ways of marking births and deaths, weddings and anniversaries have any lasting impact? Or will freshly felt sentiments born of pandemic invention be fleeting?

Some predict their pandemic celebrations have set a new course. Others still mourn the way their traditions used to be

Milestones, rituals and traditions help set the rhythm of our lives, from the annuals like birthdays and anniversaries to the one-timers like births and deaths, extending beyond those boundaries to more casual events like opening day (choose your sport), drinks out after work with colleagues and that first swim of summer.

Jennifer Talarico, a psychology professor at Lafayette College in Pennsylvania who studies memory and personal experience, says certain events shape lives differently — and have been reshaped just as differently during the pandemic. Perhaps most devastatingly impacted, she says, are death and dying, sitting at bedsides to comfort and attending funerals to mourn as the coronavirus has killed more than 2.3 million people around the world.

“That’s being felt the hardest because it’s the hardest to replace,” Talarico says. “That’s probably going to have the most lasting impact.”

Renee Fry knows the feeling well. Her grandmother, Regina Connelly, died Dec. 6 of COVID-19 at her nursing home in Hollidaysburg, Pennsylvania. She had just turned 98. There was no dropping everything to be at her bedside. There was no large church celebration of her life followed by dinner for all.

“We had to rely on video conferencing,” Fry says.

But they also did something else. She and her sister, Julie Fry, put together a “memory book” shared with far-flung family and friends. They included Regina’s favorite prayer, the Hail Mary, and asked loved ones to recite it on her behalf. They filled pages with photos through the years, from a portrait of young Regina in a fine red dress (lipstick to match, gold pendant around her neck) to more casual shots with grandchildren.

The sisters — Renee in Quincy, Massachusetts, and Julie in Port Matilda, Pennsylvania — wrote the story of how Regina met her husband on a blind date, then lost him when he died in 2010 after 64 years of marriage. They wrote of how she spent most of her teen years caring for her two brothers after their mother died suddenly when she was 13. They included rosaries with each of the 32 booklets they mailed.

Judging from the response — a second cousin called to say thank you, and a caregiver for Regina wrote a two-page letter offering thanks as well — it made an impact. “It was incredibly meaningful,” Renee says.

Such a booklet will be created when the family faces death once again. The pandemic, Fry says, has proven that distance no longer denies lasting meaning.

Daryl Van Tongeren, an associate professor of psychology at Hope College in Michigan, studies meaning in life, religion and virtues. Rituals, symbols and milestones help provide structure to our worlds, he says, demarcating the passage of time or a significant accomplishment but more importantly lending meaning to life itself.

“One of the things that these milestones and these rituals do is they connect us with other people and things that are larger than ourselves,” he says

Sometimes left behind in a swirl of celebration is the core significance of something just as important — the events themselves. Students who missed out on the walk across the stage at their graduations remain graduates. Couples forced to elope or give up their dreams of weddings for 200 for smaller affairs still have their marriages to experience

While some predict a Roaring ’20s renaissance once the crisis has ended, “there are going to be a number of people who are changed,” Van Tongeren says. “They’re going to say, `I’m going to emerge from this pandemic with a new set of values and I’m going to live my life according to new priorities.'”

Last year, Shivaune Field celebrated her 40th birthday on Jan. 11 with a group of friends at a downtown restaurant in Los Angeles, where she lives. It was just weeks before the coronavirus made its way to the U.S. This year, when she turned 41, the adjunct professor in business at Pepperdine University simply took to the beach with her pals.

“It felt much more authentic, a nicer way to connect without all the bells and whistles,” she says. “I think it’s really nice to get back to that. It reminds me of childhood.”

Fields grew up in Melbourne, Australia, where she says her parents kept birthdays rooted in family outings to the beach or bike rides followed by a treat of ice cream.

“Weekend get-togethers are now in sneakers with dogs sitting on grass and picnic rugs rather than on stools in fancy restaurants,” she says. And Field is just fine with that.

Marking time has changed during the pandemic. There’s the ticking off of months based on trips to the hair salon and the length of pandemic beards. There’s Zoom creativity and socially distanced trips outdoors. Recreating celebrations of the past for major, time-marking events has been difficult as time blurred and safety restrictions took over.

“We have all of this cultural baggage, in a good way, around those events,” Talarico says. “It’s a reinforcing cycle of events that we expect to be memorable.”

Memorable has been hard to achieve. But the rethink has been important for many, and its effects may ripple long after the virus has ebbed.

“For those wanting to reminisce years later about important events that happened during the pandemic, there will likely be nostalgia mixed with more than a tinge of trauma,” says Wilfred van Gorp, a past president of the American Academy of Clinical Neuropsychology.

“It may remind us of the loneliness and isolation brought about by the pandemic, our fear of catching the virus, fear of dying, fear of losing loved ones and loss of any we knew who may have died from COVID-19,” he says. “And,” he adds, “recollections of what we didn’t have, what we missed, and the experiences we couldn’t share together.”

Complete Article ↪HERE↩!

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Grieving Is Hard.

Grieving During A Pandemic Is Even Harder.

Without rituals, or a communal gathering, the the loss of a loved one can be felt even more keenly

by Julia Paskin

I recently lost someone who, in a lot of ways, was like a second mother. She didn’t die from COVID-19 but pandemic regulations still stand. It’s not safe to have a memorial for her.

Grief is never easy. I’m having trouble processing her loss for a few reasons but a big one is that Mama Sue was a mother to a whole lot of people, and being unable to gather with all of them in her honor has me feeling kind of stuck in my grief.

Dr. Katherine Shear says rituals surrounding death are an important part of the health process. “Without those rituals we struggle a lot more with coming to terms with the loss, which is of course what we have to do,” said Shear. Ultimately healing requires us to “regroup and find our way forward.”

PROLONGED GRIEF

Shear teaches psychiatry at Columbia University and specializes in prolonged grief, something she’s seeing a lot more of these days. Grief is considered prolonged when the feelings disrupt everyday life beyond what’s considered a healthy degree and amount of time. Symptoms of prolonged grief, also known as complicated grief can include extreme sorrow, isolation, and an inability to feel joy long after suffering a loss.

For many, it’s not only about missing out on the ritual and sense of community. It’s also about not being with someone when they die. Shear says separation from loved ones during the dying process can also make healing more difficult.

“Those things contribute to the processing of the reality of the death,” said Shear. “That’s a part of what we have to do – accept the reality. And then we have to find a way to restore our capacity to feel well-being.”

ENORMOUS NUMBERS

Demographer Emily Smith-Greenaway teaches sociology and spatial sciences at USC and has quantified the impact of COVID-19 fatalities on its survivors. She says “each death results in about nine Americans grieving the death of a close relative.”

Based on that projection, 225,000 people in California were personally affected by the death of someone from COVID-19 in 2020 alone. “The size of the population grieving, and grieving very intimate losses, is just enormous,” said Smith-Greenaway.

Fellow USC professor Diane Blaine specializes in thanatology which is the study of death and its impact. She says there are ways to find solace in creating our own rituals to help the healing process…

“Write a letter, light a candle too, you know, I have a little altar, and to just sit and weep,” said Blaine. “We can still do those things.”

FUTURE GATHERINGS

Many are finding ways to connect with other mourners. Zoom memorial services and online religious ceremonies are being frequently held. If you’re still struggling though, Blaine recommends talking to a grief counselor or support group.

The challenge is that there are a lot of communities where mental health services are hard to access and they’re often the same communities with high COVID-19 mortality rates. An emerging idea is to train people already trusted in the community like barbers and church members to give support.

Most importantly, Blaine says to remember that grief doesn’t have a timeline.

“Even though right now there might have to be a forestalling of whatever form of grief process, it can continue and it can continue on even for years.”

Blaine says we will be able to gather in the memory of those we’ve lost again at some point. And that can be healing whenever it happens.

For what it’s worth, I think I’ll light another candle for Mama Sue tonight.

Complete Article ↪HERE↩!

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There Is No Vaccine for Grief

But there are ways to prepare to face it.

By A.C. Shilton

For months, I’ve felt like the emotional equivalent of a car with a cracked windshield. I’m still rolling through daily life, but one good knock is bound to shatter me. Although the number of coronavirus cases has been declining, the number of deaths has soared well above 500,000, and now we have the new variants to worry about. I know that if I have not yet lost a loved one, I’m one of the lucky ones — and no one’s luck lasts forever.

I love being proactive — I’m all about having a go bag with extra batteries, duct tape and granola bars ready for any emergency. But what, if anything, could I do to prepare myself for grief?

Anticipatory grief is a well-documented phenomenon in grief counseling, said Dr. Katherine Shear, the founder and director for the Center for Complicated Grief at Columbia University. But usually researchers study anticipatory grief in environments like hospices, where loss is imminent. What many of us are experiencing right now is more nebulous. Dr. Shear cautioned that spiraling into anticipatory grief for a loss that may not even happen is likely to be unhelpful.

Of course, even if you do not lose a family member or friend in the pandemic, that does not mean you will not experience grief. At its core, grief is a reaction to a change that you didn’t want or ask for, said David Kessler, a grief expert and author of many books on the subject, including his most recent, “Finding Meaning: The Sixth Stage of Grief.”

Even those who have not lost family members are experiencing some level of loss in the pandemic, he said, from the disappointment of missing in-person experiences and holiday celebrations to the losses of our jobs and even our homes.

“The problem with comparisons in grief is if you win, you lose,” Mr. Kessler said, adding, “and the world is big enough for all our griefs.”

Inoculating yourself against feelings of loss may prove harder than getting a routine vaccine. “Grief is as unique as a thumbprint. What works for one person may not work for another,” said Deanna Upchurch, the director of clinical outreach services at the Providence-based hospice HopeHealth. Still, should the worst happen, knowing what tends to help others could help you gird yourself — even just a little bit. If doing something feels better to you than doing nothing, consider this your packing list for a grief go bag.

Practice Experiencing Your Emotions.

“In our culture, we tend to think painful emotions are bad,” Dr. Shear said. “But that’s really not true. It’s true that they’re painful, but we can learn from them,” she said. Next time you feel something unpleasant, take a moment to sit with it and think about why you’re feeling the way you’re feeling.

Mr. Kessler suggests looking to the animal kingdom for inspiration on learning to live with uncomfortable emotions. After his 21-year-old son died suddenly in 2016, Mr. Kessler was watching a documentary on buffalos. The documentary noted that buffalos run straight into oncoming storms.

“Because they run into the storm, they minimize the time they are in the discomfort. We live in a society that minimizes grief. Unlike the buffalo, we try to stay a mile ahead of it, but it’s just always there, chasing behind us,” he said. Consider, instead, being willing to run into the rain.

Shower the People You Love With Love.

Maureen Keeley, a professor of interpersonal communication at Texas State University, has been studying the final conversations between family members for nearly 20 years. In that time, one theme has emerged over and over again: “We need to tell those we love that we love them,” she said.

This advice sounds so simple. And yet, when I tested it out by calling my best college friend to tell her how grateful I was for her friendship, the gears gummed up. (Instead, I asked about her new cat.) To which, Dr. Keeley gave me this advice: “Grow up.” Telling someone how much they mean to you may feel a bit awkward. Go on and reveal the mushy bits of your soul. Most people enjoy hearing how much they matter, and saying it now saves you from having regrets later.

Nurture Your Network.

“We are not meant to be islands of grief,” Mr. Kessler said. Everyone grieves differently, and even within your grief there may be periods when you wish to be alone and periods when you really need a friend. When the latter happens, having a sturdy network to lean on is so important. “We need to know our loved one’s life mattered, our loved one’s death mattered. It brings us meaning to see our pain witnessed in someone else’s eyes,” he said. Now is the time to make time for friends.

Some people need something to look forward to. Others find thinking about the future overwhelming, said Ms. Upchurch. If you’re currently planning what to serve at your post-vaccine dinner party, you’re likely in the first group. Knowing that can help you put things on your schedule that will bring you joy in a dark time. If, however, you’ve been getting through the past year of social distancing by not thinking too far into the future, you may be better served by just allowing yourself to stay in the moment, taking each day as it comes.

Find a Natural Space.

Even if you’re generally not the outdoorsy type, a tiny slice of nature can be helpful in navigating grief, said Sonya Jakubec, a professor in the school of nursing and midwifery at Mount Royal University in Calgary, Canada. Dr. Jakubec studies the impact of natural spaces and parks on patients and caregivers. As she reported in a chapter she wrote on grieving in nature for the book “Health in the Anthropocene: Living Well on a Finite Planet,” she took palliative care patients and caregivers out for a walk near where they worked.

“Many of them had never considered the idea of going for a 20-minute walk break,” she said. After the field trips outdoors, 93 percent said they agreed or strongly agreed that natural spaces provide emotional comfort. Dr. Jakubec has seen similar results with grief groups that meet outside. “Parks and nature feel like a container that is large enough to hold our grief,” she said.

Thanks to vaccines and hospitals having more tools to treat critical patients, it’s possible that the bump we’re all bracing for will never arrive.

Still, it’s worth fortifying yourself now, because grief is an innate part of what it means to live a full and rich life as a human.

“Generally, grief is a lifelong experience that changes over time,” said Ms. Upchurch. Still, humans can be surprisingly resilient. That resilience will help you weather whatever else the pandemic has in store — cracks and all.

Complete Article ↪HERE↩!

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Never say die

By Kristi Nichols

In March, at the beginning of the COVID-19 pandemic, I emailed my oldest son a list of my financial details, a copy of my will, and my advanced medical directive. I thought it was the prudent thing to do in case I contracted the virus and died. Almost instantly, I received his reply: “Is everything alright, Mom?” I had not expected this response and thought it was a good time to have a conversation about death.

As my children were growing up, I made sure to keep the subject of sex in the conversation. I knew that for my children, having sex was inevitable, and there were important discussions to have before it was too late. I wasn’t worried that talking about sex would cause them to have sex; I was more worried that not talking about it might make their lives more difficult. Sometimes it was uncomfortable, but the more we talked, the more approachable the subject became. It’s the same with death. Learning to talk frankly about death and dying takes the burden off everyone. The thought of me, my family members, friends, or anyone dying is uncomfortable, but we need to talk about it.

As the COVID pandemic death toll continues to rise, more people are contemplating their own death, the death of loved ones, and dying in general. Never has there been such a need to talk about death and dying. We have become a society in which talk about death is taboo. We are born, we live, and then we die. We don’t speak openly about this natural series of events; rather we allude to it. The subject has become a source of discomfort. We avoid talking about it directly, just like sex. For some reason, we no longer die. We “pass away.” Why can’t we simply die?

Birth and death used to be a family, community, and religious event. Death was not hidden in a hospital or “care” facility. Discussions about dying and death were not just between a few family members and a medical professional. People were directly and personally involved in caring for dying relatives. Conversations were necessary to plan futures. Death was considered a natural thing and not a forbidden subject. The word “hospice” derives from the Latin word “hospitum,” meaning hospitality or place of rest and protection for the ill and weary. Essentially, going home.

Death as a taboo is taking its toll. When a dying person has not been able to talk about their death, it becomes an unnecessary source of anxiety and depression. These conversations need to be about practical concerns as well as fear, pain, and loss. When final wishes have never been discussed with family members, they are hard-pressed to make decisions at the end of their loved one’s life. Creating living wills and advanced medical directives is a good way to get the conversation started. Once the subject is broached, it may create more opportunities to express emotions and answer questions.

The psychiatrist Irvin Yalom describes four ultimate concerns: death, isolation, loss of freedom, and meaninglessness. These are the most important concerns of the living, and even more concerning for someone approaching the end of life. Why not encourage conversations regarding these deep subjects. What does it mean to those aging or experiencing a fatal illness when the subject of death is taboo? Should they be embarrassed to acknowledge their own mortality? Should they be kept silent about what concerns them most? How can there be dignity and grace in dying when we can’t talk about death?

Our society’s obsession with perfection renders many people unwilling or incapable of dealing with the painful realities of life, especially death. To embrace the human experience means embracing the full spectrum of life’s events, including death. Dealing with mortality can be overwhelming, but approaching death doesn’t have to be arduous. We shouldn’t have to worry about upsetting or protecting others when we need to talk about important things.

I believe the way forward is for us to go back to acknowledging death as what naturally happens at the end of life. We need to revive our conversations about death. It will take courage. It is difficult to face our own mortality and that of those we love. It is always sad and often frightening. Conversations about death remind us that one day, those we care about may no longer be around and maybe, we will die before them. Let’s remember to enjoy and appreciate them now and cherish every moment we spend together! Now is also the time to plan a good death.

If there is one thing I know as a psychotherapist, it’s that talking about our fears eases them. It allows us to be more honest, candid, and at peace. By talking about difficult subjects such as death, you will likely learn that you are not alone and that someone is waiting to have that conversation with you.

Complete Article ↪HERE↩!

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Covid Strikes Clergy as They Comfort Pandemic’s Sick and Dying

Pastor Marshall Mitchell of Salem Baptist Church in Abington, Pennsylvania, got his first dose of the covid vaccine in December. He believes it’s his spiritual duty to his congregation and community to take precautions to avoid covid-19.

By Bruce Alpert

The Rev. Jose Luis Garayoa survived typhoid fever, malaria, a kidnapping and the Ebola crisis as a missionary in Sierra Leone, only to die of covid-19 after tending to the people of his Texas church who were sick from the virus and the grieving family members of those who died.

Garayoa, 68, who served at El Paso’s Little Flower Catholic Church, was one of three priests living in the local home of the Roman Catholic Order of the Augustinian Recollects who contracted the disease. Garayoa died two days before Thanksgiving.

Garayoa was aware of the dangers of covid, but he could not refuse a congregant who sought comfort and prayers when that person or a loved one fought the disease, according to retired hairstylist Maria Luisa Placencia, one of the priest’s parishioners.

“He could not see someone suffering or worried about a child or a parent and not want to pray with them and show compassion,” Placencia said.

Garayoa’s death underscores the personal risks taken by spiritual leaders who comfort the sick and their families, give last rites or conduct funerals for people who have died of covid. Many also face challenges in leading congregations that are divided over the seriousness of the pandemic.

Ministering to the ill or dying is a major role of spiritual leaders in all religions. Susan Dunlap, a divinity professor at Duke University, said covid creates an even greater feeling of obligation for clergy, because many patients are isolated from family members, she said.

People near death often want to interact with God or make things right, Dunlap said, and a clergy member “can help facilitate that.”

Such spiritual work is key to the work of hospital chaplains, but it can expose them to virus being spread in the air or sometimes through touch. Jayne Barnes, a chaplain at the Billings Clinic in Montana, said she tries to avoid physical contact with covid patients, but it can be difficult to resist a brief touch, which is often the best way to convey compassion.

“It’s almost an awkward moment when you see a patient in distress, but you know you shouldn’t hold their hand or give them a hug,” Barnes said. “But that doesn’t mean that we can’t be there for them. These are people who cannot have visitors, and they have a lot they want to say. Sometimes they are angry with God, and they let me know about that. I’m there to listen.”

Still, there are times, Barnes said, that the despair is so profound she cannot help but “put on a glove and hold a patient’s hand.”

Barnes was diagnosed with covid near Thanksgiving. She has recovered and has a “better understanding” of what patients are enduring.

Dealing with so much suffering affects even the most hardened doctors and nurses, she said. Billings Clinic staffers were devastated when a beloved physician died of covid, and rallied behind a popular nurse who was seriously ill but recovered.

“We’re not only taking care of the patients; we are also there for the staff, and I think we have been an important asset,’’ she said of the hospital’s chaplains.

In Abington, Pennsylvania, Pastor Marshall Mitchell of Salem Baptist Church said he believes part of his spiritual duty is to persuade his congregation and the broader African American community to take precautions to avoid covid. That is why Mitchell allowed photographers to capture the moment in December when he received his first dose of a vaccine.

“As pastor of one of the largest churches in the Philadelphia region, it is incumbent on me to demonstrate the powers of both science and faith,” he said.

Mitchell said he might have credibility in convincing other African Americans, who have been disproportionately affected by covid, that a vaccine can save lives. Many are skeptical.

The politicization of covid precautions such as masks and social distancing has put many pastors in a difficult position.

Mitchell said he has no patience for people who refuse to wear masks.

“I keep them the hell away from me,” he said.

Jayne Barnes, a chaplain at the Billings Clinic in Montana, says it’s awkward not to touch or hug a covid patient in distress. But sometimes she cannot help but “put on a glove and hold a patient’s hand.”

Jeff Wheeler, lead pastor of Central Church in Sioux Falls, South Dakota, said that his church encourages mask-wearing and that most congregants comply. However, the underlying tension is reflected in his message to members on the church’s website:

“As we move forward, we simply ask you to avoid shaming, judging or making critical comments to those wearing or not wearing masks,” it reads.

Sheikh Tarik Ata, who leads the Orange County Islamic Foundation in California, said that the Quran calls for Muslims to take actions to ensure their health and that congregants largely comply with covid guidelines

“So, our members don’t have a problem with mask mandates,” he said.

Covid has hit the Orange County Muslim population hard, Ata said. Religion has become an important source of comfort for members who have lost their jobs and struggled with illness or finding child care.

“Our faith says that no matter how difficult the situation, we always have access to God and the future will be better,” Ata said.

Adam Morris, the rabbi at Temple Micah in Denver, said he has turned to online video to meet with congregants sick with the coronavirus. When meeting with his congregation members in person, such as during graveside services, he worries that with his mask on people might miss seeing the concern and compassion he feels for their plight.

He conducts in-person graveside funerals for a small number of mourners but requires all participants to wear masks.

Observant Muslims and Jews believe it is important to bury the dead quickly after death, Morris said.

“Some traditions and rituals must go forward,” Morris said, “covid or not.”

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Mac study looks to help families discuss end-of-life care during COVID-19

By Maria Iqbal

Long-term-care staff are so swamped with COVID-19 protocols that end-of-life discussions aren’t occurring with residents and families, says a McMaster University professor.

Sharon Kaasalainen, a professor in the school of nursing, says she’s hearing from families that they’re feeling excluded from decisions about their loved one’s care.

“Compassionate care is missing because it’s all around public health protocols,” she said, noting the absence of these conversations is causing “serous concerns.”

Kaasalainen recently met with the Ontario Long Term Care Association and other long-term-care leaders to raise the issue. The point of compassionate care, she says, is to help people become more comfortable talking about death and supporting families through that process.

Kaasalainen’s research involves helping facilitate conversations about end of life in long-term care. She recently received funding to adapt her research for COVID-19, including by developing online tools to support those discussions. The goal is to help residents, families and staff prepare for decisions at the end of a patient’s life.

While COVID-19 poses major staffing challenges, Kaasalainen says palliative care also has to do with education and a home’s priorities.

Her study will pilot online tools at homes in three provinces. Locally, that includes St. Peter’s Residence at Chedoke on the west Mountain, where she expects to roll out the online resources in spring.

The tools in the study include pamphlets on conditions common to long-term-care residents to help both residents and families learn what to expect as a disease progresses.

Pam Holliday participated in an earlier part of Kaasalainen’s research. She says the tools taught her to ask care providers more specific questions about the health of her elderly mother, a resident at Shalom Village in Westdale.

Holliday says palliative care conversations can help even before a person’s death. In her case, her mother got sick multiple times, but bounced back.

“You try to make them better, but you try to make them enjoy what they have,” Holliday said about the approach.

She adds that the resources are particularly helpful during COVID-19, when there are restrictions on visits to long-term care.

“We’re totally reliant on staff communicating any changes with us,” Holliday said. “It’s (about) asking the right questions.”

Kaasalainen says care conversations can also include the type of music a person would like to hear when they’re dying and which loved ones are with them. But avoiding the discussions affects the quality of care during a patient’s final days and how families cope after a death.

“We’re seeing families very distressed, having to make decisions unprepared, and it leads to poor bereavement,” Kaasalainen said. “They have these lingering feelings of guilt and stress.”

In March, Kaasalainen is also planning to launch a national community of practice with the Canadian Hospice Palliative Care Association. It would bring together researchers, care providers and families in long-term care to discuss palliative care.

Her hope is to see families involved in care decisions feeling better prepared.

“The goal really is good death, peaceful death and families feeling guilt-free and prepared for death when it happens.”

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