Jillian Olmsted

Jillian Olmsted

August 21, 2020

Grief, 2019

I thought I was ready for 2019. I was newly single and knew that living on my own was going to take some getting used to. I threw myself into smoothing out our new home, our first full year under our belt. Our staff grew and volunteers grew. It was great to have the buzz of activity around us.

Early in the year, our longtime friend, Glenne returned to the hospital for yet another procedure. I had first encountered Glen by phone in early 2017. He had called to explain that he was declining, had kidney failure, refusing dialysis, and would be going into hospice care. I explained our process and told him I would put him on our list and call when we had availability. We were still in our old building and stairs could sometimes be an issue, as well as shared rooms. I couldn’t use an empty bed in a room with a woman to house a man. Glen said he would call back and check in. He did, a lot. His last phone call to me took place while I was in the hospital. I had found out the day before that I have a heart condition and was being watched overnight.  He had called more than twice in a row, so I answered. He explained that he was sleeping under some bushes downtown and that he was scared. I told him to go straight to the house. I called Mark and asked him to please get a space ready for him. The next day we met in person. Do you ever meet people and feel like you’ve known them a long time? That’s how it was with Glen. He hadn’t been with us long when he decided he had a good life with us, one he wanted to continue. So, he began dialysis and doctors' appointments once again.  Glen also shared with me that he wanted to live the rest of his life as his true self, and that was as a woman. I was shocked to hear how supportive the VA hospital was! He had therapy and groups to assist with the transition and surgery. Glen spent a long while deciding on her new name. After much debate she chose “Glenne”.  There were some ups and downs. At one point, all Glennes items were boxed up at her request and I was asked to dispose of them. Thankfully I thought better of that and stored them. We had spent a lot of time building that wardrobe! Glenne began to suffer complications of diabetes and was spending more time being hospitalized. She went back and forth on whether she wanted to continue her journey. She loved Wendover and would regularly head there on the fun bus to play poker and meet for dinner with one of our longtime volunteers that lives there. One visit resulted in a heart attack at the poker table, a helicopter ride to the hospital in Salt Lake and a cab home because she didn't want to be admitted and didn't want us to find out. She was so stubborn and could be so grumpy. But she had a soft side and I adored her. She left us in February last year and I miss her constantly, especially her laugh.

The summer was cruel. In August my neighbor, close friend and coworker Jill lost her father Dave. He was one of the funniest, kindest and most entertaining men I have met. I was grateful to get to know him. I have lots of experience grieving alongside our resident's families and plenty of experience grieving myself but watching someone I love suffer a sudden loss was something that I felt completely unprepared for and inadequate. Just a couple of weeks following this my kids found out their dad had terminal stomach cancer and was given 6 months to live. He passed in October of that year. When my mom came to help us through that first week, she told me my sister had been diagnosed with cancer just the day before. I am thankful that she is doing well.

When I returned to work, I was surrounded by love. Both by our staff and by our residents. I worried about my ability to be fully present for our residents. With the help of some of our amazing chaplains and grief counselors, I managed through. I came out of this experience feeling even more equipped to stand by the side of those suffering through these experiences.

I ended our first full year in our new building feeling good about all that we had accomplished. Things were running smoothly; our neighbors had rallied around us and were volunteering and supporting us. We were serving so many people that were in desperate need of some respite and care. Our staff was growing and beginning to mesh. We looked forward to all that 2020 could bring!

Read Glenne's obituary here.

Please take a moment to hep The INN Between give someone a safe and supportive haven in their final days so that, like Glenne, they can leave this earth knowing their life mattered and that they deserve dignity and to be remembered. Donate today to our 5th Anniversary Campaign.

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August 20, 2020

Moving Day, 2018

The new year brought big changes. Kim had found a facility that was shutting down and we quickly jumped on the opportunity to move into a place already built and suited to our needs. We went from leisurely planning a dream building, to full blown moving mode quick! We had also been admitting quite a few new residents that were presenting new challenges. We also found a round of new neighbors that were very vocal about their concern over us operating in their neighborhood. It was a lot to take in. I tried to keep our daily routine as normal as possible in our house and we talked a great deal about what some of the changes would look like. I spent a lot of time worrying how the move would affect our residents. Then our house manager left.

Mark had been with us for a couple of years. He left maybe once or twice a month for an hour or two but was otherwise always on the property. He could be gruff, was super opinionated and had no filter. He was well loved in our home and he could be counted on for almost anything. He left one afternoon and said he’d be back in a couple of hours. When it had begun to get late, we finally checked his room after our calls went unanswered and discovered he had moved out.

From the get-go Kim was adamant that we were not going to sneak into the neighborhood and made all efforts to be as transparent as possible and address everyone's concerns. I will admit, I am incredibly protective and defensive of our residents and the meetings and comments were difficult for me. I am proud of the fact that we have never had a major incident with any of our residents. I tried my best to shield our residents from comments that would make them feel less than welcome. It was difficult and there was a lot of concern. June 1st was move in day for our residents and me. We had a couple of residents that walked in and decided it wasn’t for them. It was a lot bigger and so different from our tiny home we had been accustomed to. Then, word was out that we had more beds available and we received even more referrals. In an effort to ease in and get our feet on the ground we increased our census very slowly.

We added a new house manager, John and luckily, he has stuck with us and is still here! Our first Christmas we had trees everywhere instead of the one we could barely fit at the old house. We lost Mike Oman that year on Christmas. His wife had not moved in with us until he had been here a couple of months and had been battling cancer herself. I am glad she was able to be with him. She stayed for a while after he died and even worked with us while she adjusted. I am happy to report, she is doing well. This was also the year that Ms. Kay moved back in with us. After having left us and moving throughout several other facilities she had decided to travel. She fell asleep on a Greyhound on her way to Florida but somewhere in Tennessee her purse was stolen, and she ended up landing there. She had spent one cold winter there and the police chief couldn’t stand to see her suffer another. He contacted us and I reached out to one of our local chiefs and he got her a ticket back! I had followed Ms. Kay facility to facility until she disappeared and had spent a year trying to track her down, so I was thrilled to have her back with us.

One of my favorite stories from 2019 was about David. He had come to the INN for respite but quickly went on service with hospice. His decline was fairly quick, and his hospice agency asked if he had a wish. He asked for a police scanner. David had spent time in prison and struggled with substance abuse. A few people in the house made fun of his wish and a few felt like there was some sort of scheme behind it. David passed in February of that year, the same day as one of our younger residents also named David. The scanner was picked up by the agency and I thought that was the end of the story. When we got to the new building and had been here a few months I received a call from a woman. It was David’s sister. She had read his obituary and read about the scanner. She was sobbing as she recalled that when they were growing up, their back deck overlooked the valley. Every evening she and David would sit with their parents and listen to the scanner and watch the lights correspond with the calls. It made her so happy to know that his dying wish was something that connected him to his memories growing up.

We started 2017 by celebrating the life of Robert Burr. A true lesson in perseverance, he had lived far past his expected time and continued all his beloved activities with a seriously diminished heart function. A week before Christmas, I was called by our house manager and Robert was gasping for breath and asking me to hurry there. When I arrived, he was turning purple and was rushed to the hospital and intubated. I received a call the next day from his daughter and she said I could come say goodbye before they removed the ventilator. He looked so peaceful; I was so glad to have had that chance at goodbye. My tears were barely dry when I got a call later that day that Robert had woken up, demanded the tubes out and wanted to return home to us. He was in his bed by that evening and Robert spent his last week on his own terms, with his family hovering over him before he passed away in the early hours the morning after Christmas.  

This fighting spirit was the theme for 2017. I witnessed some amazing recoveries and some serious fights for just a little more time. One of our residents kept his nurse and I on our toes as he seemed to come back after three “time of death” calls. I am constantly amazed at the human spirit and what our bodies can do! We had one week in 2017 that we lost five people, two in one day. Kathleen and Mark, our house managers, were amazing partners and the three of us managed to care for everyone in a way that I don’t think anyone felt they were not the only one in need of our time. We lost Billy that week, one of our longer-term residents. I was asked to attend his graveside service by his family, something we are not usually invited to. I was asked to speak, and it remains one of my most special days.  

Along with our usual day to day operations, Kim had begun talking about expanding our capacity. This was the year that we began looking at building something bigger. There were a lot of meetings, planning and daydreaming about what we would like our space to look like and how we could improve on our facilities to better serve our residents. We were really picking up a great deal more referrals and beginning to take in some more difficult clients. We were beginning to serve some of the “high utilizers”, individuals that frequently used EMS and ER services. We worked hard to help triage some of those possible visits to reduce the calls and address situations, often anxiety fueled, at home without having to resort to outside services.  

As we started to succeed and prove the benefits of our services the calls continued to pour in. This was the year I started to receive calls from different community partners as they were outreaching to higher risk individuals that might be a fit for our program. I have found that meeting people where they are at is something that builds a good rapport. I also like to meet people in the hospital for that same reason. It’s nice to get to explain what we are about and what our home is like. It is nice being a familiar face when someone walks in for the first time.  

The year was looking to end fairly quietly. We had hit our stride and things were running smoothly. That’s when Kim called me and asked if I could go look at a building with her.  

Please help us honor our 5 years of care and compassion by donating to our 5th Anniversary Campaign. Your donation will be matched, dollar for dollar. Click here to view our campaign.

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Our second year was our first full year, and we kept busy! With our goal being to provide a place for people to die with dignity we were suddenly faced with the question, what if someone gets better? It had been six months since Ben had walked through our doors. He had been given just weeks left to live; yet, he was now facing being discharged from hospice as he no longer qualified. This was such great news but was a lot to process for Ben. We made sure he had people to talk with and started mapping out what the future might look like. I will always be grateful to Ben, we learned a lot together. There are a lot of hurdles to face when you are suddenly on your own and I think Ben encountered the majority of them. Through it all, we kept in touch and I am so proud to say that several years later Ben has been doing great.  

This was when we began our protocol of not only providing a stay to address the acute medical condition but also the time to process that and plan for the future. It’s a delicate balance to provide enough time to complete that process and not too much time that it becomes enabling. I began to seek out advice and training in how to connect people to services once they were no longer living with us. I tried to help people learn skills that would enable them to manage their own care. How to schedule appointments and plan to follow through and actually get to the appointments. We started assisting people with Medicaid and social security applications. I quickly learned that when someone moves out on their own, they have less of a chance to succeed if they don’t continue to have the support of stable case management.  

We lost a few people in our second year that had moved out on their own. I remained in touch with them and checked in regularly. I was honored to have been able to spend time with them in their final days and receive the call when they had passed. Rick Silva passed just minutes after I left him at the hospital. After living with us for several months, he chose to leave and live in VA housing. He had only been moved out for a month or so before he wound up at his final hospital stay. His mother and I still speak regularly. 

Along with learning how to care for our residents in that second year, I was also learning how to be a working member of our community. I experienced so many firsts. I went to my first ever conference as a speaker (photo shown)! It was in Michigan and I saw my first ever firefly and I am still talking about it. I started meeting community partners and learning about all the great services available in our city. I spoke in front of city council meetings and we began a neighborhood advisory council. I once stepped in and spoke to a woman's group in a member's home when Kim was sick. As I walked out of their back room where I was leaving my coat, I missed a step, slipped and fell flat on my face. I still can’t believe that no one saw it!  

Our house grew that year and I still get the same warm feeling when I think about walking through the back door of our home and seeing someone in the kitchen making coffee. People gathered around the table eating breakfast. Our house manager Mark asking me how many eggs I’d like and catching me up on what happened after I left the night before. Walking past the garage and catching at least two people smoking. I do not think I ever saw that room empty. I started to relax a little in that second year as I felt more comfortable in my role. But I always kept my eye out for steps. 

Please consider making a donation to help celebrate our 5th Anniversary and to ensure we continue to offer our services for many years to come by clicking here

Continue reading about our friends who passed with us at The INN Between in 2016 by visiting our Obituaries page here. 

Five years ago, today The INN Between opened it’s doors. I had been following it closely, having signed up a month prior to volunteer. It would still be a couple of weeks before I walked through the doors to begin my service, but I feel it had already had me in its grip and my life was on a new path. 

My first day volunteering was spent cutting fruits and vegetables to freeze in the kitchen at the old Guadalupe school. I spent hours doing that and getting to know Maria who was managing the operation as a volunteer. My first day there I met Jim. He had walked over from the old convent next door where our residents were residing. I answered the door and introduced myself. He introduced himself as Charles Manson and his laugh sealed our friendship. We didn’t have many people there at that time, just three when I began. Olivia died on my second day of volunteering. Thomas shortly after. I knew Thomas, he had been a staple at the Costco by my house. He was friendly and had regular visitors bringing him various things. He died of kidney failure with our house manager Chris at his side. I made cupcakes for his service but could not attend due to a previously planned trip with my family. As I was preparing to leave Maria called me and asked if I would consider applying to be the volunteer coordinator. She lived in Arizona and it was time for her to head home. I spent that weekend with my family, and we talked over what me returning to work would look like and if we were ready for that. I had been very fortunate after my own struggles with homelessness and struggling to survive, to have remarried and had the opportunity to be a stay-at-home mom. My youngest was 10 and this would be a big change. I  felt strongly that this was what I was meant to do, where I was meant to be. I made plans to meet with Kim Correa the day I returned. 

I began the interview with “I have no experience and no schooling”. I was off to a great start. Kim said she just felt I was the person for this job and asked if I could start that day. I said I could only work part time. I worked over 40 my first week. I think about that meeting a lot. The faith that Kim had in me lit a fire. I quickly learned that volunteer coordinating was so important but that running the house had to be first. I asked Kim if she was comfortable with me setting some ground rules and she said that she trusted me to do whatever I felt necessary. I ran with that. My confidence grew and our program grew. She allowed me to build the program as I saw fit and pushed me towards connections, trainings and conferences that would help build my knowledge and skills. 

My family was so supportive. My youngest was home schooling for a brief time when I started, and she was our secretary at the front desk at the school. She celebrated Jim’s birthday with us just before he died. My sons both played guitar and drums with various residents. My oldest daughter became an EMT and was a regular visitor for lunch. My husband organized his work Christmas parties to benefit The INN Between. It was not without its heartache though. Dying does not happen on a schedule. There were a lot of middle of the night calls, running to sit with someone or make calls to family to let them know their loved ones have left us. Scared calls from someone that just needed reassurance they were not alone. Sometimes my kids got frustrated. I sometimes felt torn and I struggled to find a balance. 

I have always been a talker; I get that from my mama. There are no strangers, just people you have not yet met. I cannot tell you how lucky I am to get to meet so many people. Volunteers, community partners, teachers, and activists but, most of all our residents. Going out to provide outreach to someone is one of my favorite things. To meet someone in their space and shake their hand and sit and talk is where I feel most at home. Being able to bring them into our home and help care for them is a bonus. Not everyone chooses to take that opportunity and that’s okay too. Our relationship continues, just outside the walls of The INN Between. 

Don’t get me wrong. Not all memories are sweet. I know what end stage liver failure looks like and can spot the signs a mile away. I know what an overdose looks like and have experience with Narcan. I have seen how mental illness can convince you that steel wool can clean a wound better than anything else. I know what tumors look like if they are left untreated. I know what the face of someone with a life of regret looks like as they cry and wish for more time. These are important things to remember too sometimes.  

The first year of The INN Between was special. It was so new; we were just figuring it out as we went. We were lucky that it was filmed by KUED and I like to go back once in a while and watch it. Seeing everyone alive and hearing their voices fills me with love and renews my passion for The INN Between. I keep phone messages for this same reason. Hearing Jimmy say, “Hey sugar, come talk to me when you get here.” Or Harry, reminding me that he’s moving in today and can I please come pick him up. I have beautiful letters from so many and Kelly gave me a card for every holiday imaginable. Every night I walk my dog past the deli that Tom worked in and I say hi to him. I dropped him off there so many times, scolding him for not bringing his inhaler, making sure he had a ride back to the INN. I still talk to family members whose loved ones are long gone. We reminisce about final days and funny stories. My life is better for having known these people. I wish there were a way I could make our residents understand when they say they have left nothing behind or haven’t contributed to this world that they have left part of themselves. And not with just me. To all that are a part of the INN. The volunteers, the staff, the people that stop through to take a tour and remember that cantankerous woman who told them, all she needs in life is a cigarette. Or the man that drummed his heart out with not a care in the world. People remember. I remember. 

We usually celebrate our anniversary with a party. I remember the year Larry drank so much soda that he panicked. The year that we did the fishing game and Glenn had amassed a hoard of candy. And every year watching Kristiina go down the waterslide. I will miss that this year. I am going to celebrate this anniversary in this new world the best way I know how. By remembering. I will start at our first home, where so many memories remain as well as some of the ashes of those we loved. I’ll recall Char driving up to the parking lot after her long winter drive from Montana, coming to get treatment and begging for a hot cup of coffee. Billy bringing us a hamburger and French fries he made for lunch. Sitting at the dining room table with Candace trying to help her not stress about a thousand pieces of paper she wants to file before she dies. Sitting by John’s bed with my phone at his ear so his daughter can say her goodbyes from jail. I will walk into our new home, filled with so many more memories, Tim and BooBoo walking the halls, Harry lounging outside with a cigarette. Willy writing in his journal so his daughter can read about him someday. I’m looking forward to the next five years of memories, excited to see who I will meet and what new things I will learn to help assist those that need us.  

And you, I will think about all those that have walked through our doors over the past five years to help and love and support our mission and our residents. I look forward to seeing you all again soon I hope, thank you. We are so blessed.  

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July 09, 2020

Marilee Garrett

The following obituary was written by Marilee's family.

Marilee Garrett, age 64, passed away on February 9, 2020 in Salt Lake City, UT. She was born on July 4, 1955 in Salt Lake City to Diane Parkinson & Melvin Earl Brady. She was married to Paul Garrett. She graduated from University of Utah 1980 with bachelors degree in Education. She obtained her Masters degree in Special Education from Northern Arizona University in 2001. She taught middle school Special Education, then went on to teach English as a Second Language at the College of South Idaho. Marilee is survived by her second husband, Paul; her three siblings, Melvin Mark Brady (wife: Elena Fajardo), Michele Ann Macdonald (husband: Scott Richards Macdonald), and Melinda Sue Wallace; three daughters: Melissa Wolf, Grace Beth McCoy, Misty Diane Evans, and two sons, Jacob Adam Grier (wife: Marites Pacion), and Isaac Melvin Grier (partner: Ryann Riedmann). Grandchildren: Chessa Lilly (husband: Cory Hentrup), Benjen Devont Lilly, Julia Diane Lilly, Rachel Valerie Evans, Jenna Heidi Lilly-Evans, William Evans, Steven David Kennison, Michael Charles Wolf, Brandon Desmond Choice, Terrell Britton Winder McCoy, Aiden James McCoy, Jordyn Sapphire McCoy, Jett James McCoy. Johanna Marie Grier, Adham Pacion Grier. Stepchildren: Titiana Mulry (husband: William Mulry), Michele Garrett, Matthew Garrett (wife: Lisa Garrett), Silas Garrett (wife: Megan Garrett), Anastasia Wilber (husband: Dan Wilber). Step-grandchildren: Thomas Mulry, William Mulry, Aidan Mulry, AbduRahman Archer, Fatima, Asma, Ioan Garrett, Theodore Garrett, Maria Joy Garrett. She is preceded in death by Diane Parkinson Brady (mother), Melvin Earl Brady (father), Sidney Alfonso Brady (paternal grandfather), Della Hurst Brady (paternal grandmother), Frank Lane Parkinson (maternal grandfather), Zada Justeson Parkinson (maternal grandmother) Family gathering and life celebration for relatives and friends in Utah will be held Saturday, Feb. 15, 2020 at 1:00 PM at the Castlewood Ward House at 12681 South 3600 West, Riverton, Utah 84065. Funeral Services for Idaho friends and relatives will be held Thursday, Feb. 20, 2020, at 6:30PM at Serenity Funeral Chapel located at 502 2nd Avenue North, Twin Falls, Idaho, 83301. In lieu of flowers, Marilee has requested donations be made to the College of Southern Idaho Refugee Program. refugeecenter.csi.edu/ Special thank you to all those countless friends and family who gave so unselfishly of themselves and their time to help make Marilee’s life richer and more comfortable. Special thank you to her caregivers at Sandy Regional Rehabilitation and Nursing Home, The INN Between, Dr. John Dietlein, and Symbii Hospice. Arrangements are under the direction of Wiscombe Memorial. To send flowers or a memorial gift to the family of Marilee Garrett.

Born to Catherine Harmston (Gillett) and Lee Harmston in Vernal, UT on January 6th, 1967.

Robin was the youngest of nine children. Growing up on a farm, she would charge 10 cents to anyone who wanted to ride her palomino pony. She was sharp and always did well in school, when she’d attend. She met her first husband, Tharon Craig Satison, at age 15 and had two children, Jennifer and Richard. Robin and Tharon divorced before she was even 18 years old. Robin worked hard and had many jobs to provide the best life for her two children. Later, she met her soul mate, Blake Skinner, and married on June 23rd, 1989. Together they had two little girls, Heather and Hope Skinner.

Robin enjoyed camping, fishing, creating memories with friends at Bunko games, cheering for the Denver Broncos, and had a major crush on Karl Malone during the Utah Jazz golden age. She regularly attended U of U football games, where she’d sell her patented “Teamcatchers”, which she had worked so hard to develop.  She loved hosting family events such as Thanksgiving dinners, birthday parties, Superbowl parties, or any event which could be used as an excuse to bring family together.  The title of “The Fun Aunt” or “Sister” or “Cousin” was bestowed upon her by many of her family.  And, she usually lived up to that title.  She had a gift; a special connection with each member of her family, a connection unique to each but as special as the others.

Robin worked for Hydrapak (seals division) for many years, and later at Interstate Brick until 2010.  

We will always remember her as our beautiful mother.  She was young, caring, beautiful, vibrant, fun, and full of life.  She taught us kindness and strength by example.  She made us smile and laugh with an infectious energy when no one else could.  She cheered for us when we were young.  And later, as adults, we cheered for her as she fought illness that came in many forms.  Before cancer stole the life from her, addiction stole her from her life…from our lives. The pain of addiction is not only felt by the addicted, but by all those close to them.  Her family endured the many afflictions of addiction as she was unable to overcome her substance abuse.  Her last years were marked by broken dreams of what was, what was no longer, and what may have once been.

She passed in the quiet serenity of The Inn Between, hospice for the homeless.  Our family would like to thank the incredible staff, volunteers, and residents, who cared for her and helped her find peace in her last days.  

Robin is preceded in death by her Sisters Kathy Jones and Maudeen Holfeltz, her mother Catherine Harmston, and father Lee Harmston.

She is survived by: husband Blake Skinner; daughter Jennifer and son in law Brock McMullin; son Richard Satison; daughters Heather and Hope Skinner; step daughters Teesha Neiser, Brandie Kelly, and Tiffany Skinner; grandchildren Kiki, Titan, Apollo, Davyn, and Jaxson; siblings Keith and Willa Mounteer, Terry and Connie Mounteer, Larry Holfeltz, Susan and Bob Coppa, Dennis and Vicki Mounteer, Les and Laurie Mounteer, and Joe Mounteer.

Robin's family had a graveside service honoring Robin at Valley View Cemetery on August 21st.  Her family also asked in lieu of flowers that people please consider making a donation to The INN Between, of Salt Lake City, Utah, or any foundation that helps those dealing with addiction and substance abuse. View this obituary on the web here.

Thank you to everyone who supported our 6th Annual Golf Tournament at Mount Ogden Golf Course! 

Utah hospice center gives recently homeless people a place to spend last days
By Jed Boal, KSL TV | Posted - Feb. 20, 2020 

SALT LAKE CITY — Homeless hospice caregivers have noticed a disturbing trend — community members who have never been homeless have been seeking their help for end-of-life care.

Nearly 100 people died on the streets of Salt Lake City last year while experiencing homelessness. Some of them spent their last days of life in a hospice for the homeless called The Inn Between.

Executive director Kim Correa said more and more people who have been employed throughout their lives are running out of resources and ending up in their care.

“A lot of people are falling through the cracks,” said Correa. “That’s just something that we’re seeing more and more… people just coming from the community who have never been homeless, but now, they’re facing a terminal illness (and) need hospice care.”

The Inn Between is a hospice in a homelike setting near 1200 East 1300 South. It’s a place where people experiencing homelessness can face the end of their lives with dignity.

Unfortunately, they’re welcoming more people who have never been homeless before that last chapter.

“I should be in the prime of my earning capacity right now, instead of dealing with which hospice to go to,” said Michael Burton, a former mathematics professor.

For 23 years, Burton taught mathematics at the University of Utah, Weber State and Salt Lake Community College.

At age 55, he’s spending the last chapter of life with his St. Bernard, Ben, at The Inn Between.

Ten years ago, Burton noticed he was starting to slow down, and having trouble breathing. Then four years ago, he noticed he couldn’t breathe while walking across a parking lot.

After much testing, Burton was diagnosed with pulmonary hypertension.

“The pulmonary artery doesn’t want to give me enough air when it’s necessary,” he said.

It’s a terminal illness, and he could not care for himself at home anymore. He said he feels fortunate that he found The Inn Between.

He always had thought he would have 30 or 40 more years to live.

“Not only at 55 was I faced with needing to do this, but, I also was just about at the end of finances,” he said. “There just wasn’t anything left.”

Burton had worked his entire adult life. He had health insurance and savings. He was never homeless and never expected to land in a hospice for the homeless, but his illness drained his resources.

“I was relying on church funds to get by, and friends — and I was wiped out,” he said.

“He had done everything right,” said Correa. “He had depleted all of his resources, and now found himself unable to make his rent payment.”

Correa said they’ve had residents in similar circumstances from time to time over the years.

“We’re seeing it on a more frequent basis,” she said. “I would say, now 6 percent of our clients are coming to us from the community, and they’ve never been homeless.”

She said they are being wiped out by the housing costs of extended care not covered by health insurance.

He had done everything right. He had depleted all of his resources, and now found himself unable to make his rent payment.

–The Inn Between Executive director Kim Correa

“Our health care system doesn’t provide a housing component of health care,” she said.

People like Burton fall through the cracks. Correa said we all need to plan for the caregiver support we will need from family, friends or professionals. We need to plan for how we will pay for our housing during that chapter of life.

The best thing we can do ahead of time?

“Talk about it,” she said. “Talk about it with our family members. What’s going to happen, ‘if?’ Run some scenarios.”

She said those conversation and preparation will help us better understand what’s going to happen to us, before it happens.

“It’s not just about (the) homeless,” said Burton. “We could become homeless at any point. What defines that could be one road taken over another.”

The Inn Between recently started a grief group that’s open to the community. It’s part of the conversation about the end of life.

Learn more about The Inn Between at their website, tibhospice.org.

Click here for the full article.

KSL, May 20, SALT LAKE CITY, Utah – A hospice for the homeless in Salt Lake City is one of several long-term care facilities facing critical challenges during the coronavirus pandemic.

Despite those challenges, The INN Between on Wednesday broke ground on a memorial garden that is an important part of their mission, although no residents have caught COVID-19. 

t’s a memorial for those who otherwise might be forgotten.

The Inn Between is a hospice for the homeless. Soon, an area on the corner of the property near 1300 South and 1300 East will be transformed into a memorial garden for those who have passed away, to make sure they are always remembered.

“It’s a place we can go to think about the positive things that a memorial garden really facilitates,” said Cecily Davis, the mother of the Inn Between’s first resident. “More of a concentration on the things that are positive rather than dwelling on the things that were hurtful.”

Olivia Davis spent her last chapter in life at the Inn Between five years ago. Her mother, Cecily, said Olivia was staying at the homeless shelter when she was diagnosed with breast cancer.

“Olivia had been going through a really difficult time,“ she said. “She was just getting sicker and sicker.”

Cecily Davis holds a plaque remembering her daughter Olivia, who was the Inn Between’s first patient five years ago.

Her daughter spent her last days at the Inn Between, which was comforting to her and her family.

“A chance to be in a safe place and have greater dignity and more support at a time when she still thought, ‘I’m going to beat this mom,’” said Davis.

The INN Between is a place where sick people can go if they have nowhere else to stay.

“A place where they can receive 24/7 caregiver support and access to hospice care, which is not available on the streets, or in shelters or motels,” said Kim Correa, executive director of the Inn Between.

Wednesday morning, Bryson and Jan Garbett of Garbett Homes helped break ground on the memorial garden, a charitable project they spearheaded.

One of the cornerstones at the Inn Between is to memorialize their residents. They prepare an obituary and post it on the website.

“We hold a memorial service and we also put a name plaque in our memorial garden so that they’re memorialized forever somewhere, knowing that they really probably don’t have the resources to have any other type of memorial,” said Correa.

The new garden will have space for hundreds of memorial plaques, including those for the 75 people they have already helped through the end-of-life process.

COVID-19 has had a big impact on the facility. But so far, they’ve kept the virus out.

“It’s hard on everybody,“ said Correa. “Very early in the process, we went on a total lockdown. So, we weren’t allowing visitors. We weren’t allowing our residents to leave.”

Some clients left because of the restrictions. There were 27 residents in the facility Wednesday, down from about 40 residents before the pandemic.

“Our clients are very grateful that we’re taking these extreme precautions because they know they’re safe, and we haven’t had any COVID-19 in our facility so far,” said Correa.

The Inn Between was not taking any new residents without a 14-day quarantine as of Wednesday. Those already there were eating meals in their rooms, wearing masks and avoiding personal contact.

“Our frontline staff is working really, really hard to make sure our clients are fed, they have the 24/7 care that they need. It’s been an extreme challenge,” Correa said.

The Inn Between gets all of its funding from community and government grants and generous donations.

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