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Tue, Aug 25
The hospice gap
Twice already, Narseary and Vernal Harris have watched a son die. The first time — Paul, at 26 — was agonizing and frenzied, his body tethered to a machine meant to keep him alive as his sickle cell disease progressed. When the same illness ravaged Solomon, at 33, the Harrises reluctantly turned to hospice in the hope that his last days might somehow be less harrowing than his brother’s.
Their expectations were low. “They take your money,” Mrs. Harris said, describing what she had heard of hospice. “Your loved ones don’t see you anymore. You just go there and die.”