This hospice volunteer’s visits ‘are more about living’

When Andy Bader tells people he volunteers with hospice patients, they often say two things: that he’s a good person, and that it must be depressing. He is quick to disabuse them of both notions. He considers himself a regular person offering companionship to another human being, and “the visits are more about living in the moment than about dying.”  

“When a stranger is willing to come and engage them and then come regularly, it provides a bond,” said Bader, 74. “A patient may be on this track of dying, and I may be still on a track of living, apparently, but we’re both together here, and that’s what’s important.” 

In his three years volunteering with Penn Medicine Hospice, Bader has donated hundreds of hours to weekly visits with hospice care patients in their homes in the Philadelphia area. He feels fortunate to have developed rich, long-term bonds with patients, some of whom he visits for months. A patient must be considered terminally ill and within six months of death, as determined by a physician, to qualify for hospice care. In some cases, the benefit may be extended. 

A student and a detective 

Hospice volunteers are trained to go into visits with no ego or agenda. They ask open-ended questions to draw out the patient, find out what they’re interested in, and go from there. Their role is specifically to provide companionship; if the patient seems upset about something, the volunteer can arrange for a call from the nurse, chaplain, or social worker on the hospice team. 

Through their presence and attention to detail, volunteers make patients "feel seen, heard, and appreciated," said Alisa Cramer, Th.D., M.S., manager of Volunteer Services for Penn Medicine Hospice. “Hospice care is a heartfelt calling, and our volunteers answer the call to serve and support with phenomenal care.”   

In Bader’s visits, he’s both a student and a detective, open to learning and curious to discover the things that have brought joy to patients. He often travels back in time with them to revisit important moments in their past, whether it be their time in the Coast Guard 70 years ago or growing up near Shibe Park, the 1909 ballpark that was home to the Philadelphia Athletics and the Philadelphia Phillies. 

Bader brings “so much wisdom and kindness to all his interactions,” said Stefanie Wilson, senior manager of Psychosocial Services for Penn Medicine Hospice.  

One patient identified a love of music, and Bader looked up videos on YouTube of singers—both famous and lesser known—until he determined the patient specifically enjoyed Black vocal music from the 1940s to ‘70s. 

“My approach to volunteering is, if my patient tells me something, it’s an opportunity,” he said. “In other words, he’s given me a kernel, and I’m going to try to cultivate it.” 

A life of service 

The value of service to others has always guided Bader. He had a 35-year career in human services, aging, and senior living, serving in both the public and not-for-profit sectors. In the later years, he managed a portfolio of senior living communities and was always impressed by the “holistic team spirit” with which nurses, social workers, chaplains, therapists, and volunteers provided end-of-life care. 

After retiring in 2012, Bader joined the Peace Corps as a community development volunteer in Ukraine. Since relocating to Philadelphia to be closer to his son and his family, Bader has volunteered with many organizations, carefully selecting organizations that have “clear missions and values” and train and support their volunteers well.  

He wanted to volunteer with Penn Medicine in large part because of his own experiences as a patient, and with hospice care specifically due to the experiences of his sister, a retired hospice nurse. She worked for 13 years with what’s now Penn Medicine Hospice and would talk to her brother about the life-affirming nature of the work. 

Devoted to the job 

Bader throws himself into the job of being the best companion possible. When he was visiting Rocco Fumento, a 100-year-old retired professor of writing and film, Bader read all four of Fumento’s novels so the men could talk about them during their visits.  

Then they moved onto films. For months, Bader watched two movies per week at home—1930s, ‘40s, and ‘50s classics, from screwball comedies to musicals to film noir—and took notes so he’d be prepared to recall scenes and bits of dialogue during his visits. Fumento could barely see or hear, but Bader shouted loud enough for him to understand. This went on for 18 months: 122 feature films in all.  

“Despite his infirmities, he was fully engaged mentally. I’d say, ‘Do you remember when so and so walked in the door and the other person reacted? And I’d say just little bits of dialogue, and he’d laugh,” Bader said. “And he’d say another scene in the movie that he remembered. He had a fantastic memory for movies.” 

Fumento’s niece, Susan McLintock, said Bader’s Friday visits were the highlight of her uncle’s week, and he made sure that “nothing or nobody was scheduled around that time.”  

“Film had been my uncle's passion since he was a young child. He was an expert, not only with the theme and actors, but also with the characters, the directors, the lighting, the setting, etc.," McLintock said. "Andy was the only person who could speak on that level, and was genuinely interested in learning about the film, and discussing all aspects.”  

Throughout the months Bader was visiting Fumento and forming this bond, the volunteer department leaders would read the descriptions in Bader's visit notes “with delight at the relationship that had developed, and all the education he received,” Wilson said.  “They were whole narratives about what he learned. And he’s like that with every patient.”  

McLintock expressed her gratitude for the hours of joy and pleasure that Bader provided to her uncle over the time they spent together. On what would turn out to be his final visit to Fumento, Bader came prepared with notes from two more films. Close to death, Fumento “grabbed and squeezed my hand, and I knew he was saying goodbye,” Bader said. “It was really, really powerful.”