09/03/2026
Some of the most meaningful moments in hospice care are the ones that might seem small to everyone else.
Our patient Mr. Alton Estes is both blind and deaf. Without the ability to see or hear what is happening around him, his world can understandably feel uncertain and overwhelming. He often stays in his room, prefers very little interaction, and has struggled with wanting to eat or participate in activities.
But behind the walls he has built over the years as a form of protection is a sweet man who simply needed someone willing to slow down, enter his world, and earn his trust.
And one of our nurses, Kate, did exactly that.
Over time, the two have developed their own beautiful way of communicating. She uses sign language, allowing Mr. Estes to feel the signs through touch. With patience and consistency, he communicates back. What began as caregiving has grown into a relationship built on trust, understanding, and genuine connection.
Recently, something special happened.
After a good hair brushing and getting cleaned up, Mr. Estes agreed to get into his chair and leave the familiarity of his room. He went to the dining area, enjoyed a meal, spent some time near the windows, and experienced a change of scenery. Then his nurse asked if they could take a picture together.
He said yes.
For someone who often finds interaction stressful, that “yes” meant so much.
Mr. Estes spent his working years as a mechanic—a man accustomed to using his hands, working, fixing, and doing. Knowing that part of his story, our hospice team continues finding ways to bring pieces of familiarity and purpose back into his days, including a sensory mitten with chains and objects he can explore with his hands.
This is hospice care.
It’s learning someone’s story. It’s finding a way to communicate when words aren’t possible. It’s building enough trust that someone feels a little less vulnerable and a little less alone.
And sometimes, it’s helping someone step out of a dark room and back into the light. 💛
