Good People
5questions Story and photo by David Moore
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n Oct. 9, 1989, Rhonda Osborne went to work as the first full-time, bedside nurse at Shepherd’s Cove Hospice. Four years later she became nursing supervisor for the non-profit agency, then served 27 years as its CEO before retiring March 1. That’s 32 and a half years of directly or indirectly assisting people during the final days of their life’s journey. It’s now the second week of March and for a moment Rhonda looks a little lost sitting in her comfortable living room in Albertville. “What was it … 10 days ago I retired? Nine? I heard,” she laughs, “that you can’t keep up with time when you retire.” She and her husband Ray were thinking of rescheduling a Mediterranean cruise they had to cancel back in 2001 because of the 9/11 attacks. Now they’re holding off because of Russia’s Ukrainian invasion. “But we don’t have to be in hurry,” says Rhonda, who has been toying with a tentative to-do list. Closets need cleaning, but what’s the rush there? Maybe she’ll start playing piano again. She enjoyed it in high school. Certainly, she’ll keep singing in the Albertville First United Methodist Church choir, but other than that … “I have not fully wrapped my brain around not having a work schedule,” says Rhonda. When she first went on the work schedule at the then seven-year-old Hospice of Marshall County, the limited staff was licensed to provide only homecare. Under Rhonda’s direction, the agency built a 10-bed inpatient unit, offices and community room, changed its name to Shepherd’s Cove Hospice. Now, with a staff of 90, at any given time it cares for 85-110 terminal patients and their 16
MAY | JUNE | JULY 2022
Rhonda Osborne
Former CEO discusses the world of hospice and the soul of Shepherd’s Cove families in nine counties, totaling 600 patients last year. “Since 1995, we’ve served just over 14,000 patients in hospice programs,” Rhonda says. “And the concentric circles of impact expand to at least a family member or friend, sometimes 10 to 20 of them.” To that, one can add the annual impact of grief counseling that reaches 300 children in 64 schools across four counties, plus another at least 200 adults. Fair to say that, so far, a big part of Rhonda’s retirement has been catching her breath.
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honda’s early life had a Mayberry aura to it. “Opie and I are about the same age,” she says. She grew up in the county, New Harmony, a “suburb” of Asbury. She and her sister Deborah picked cotton on her dad’s farm until second grade when he bought a cotton-picker machine. She thought that would get her out of the hard, sweaty work, but he then sent them to work their uncle’s field. In her spare time, Rhonda not only learned to play piano, she also gave lessons to other kids. “It was not my gift,” she confesses. But singing at churches was, and by eighth grade she was performing solos. Later she sang in Jacksonville State University’s Baptist student choir. About 20 years ago, Rhonda sang solo during a Hospice memorial service at Boaz First Baptist. “Afterward, I saw my old piano teacher from, like, one hundred years ago and apologized for not sticking with piano,” she laughs. “She said, ‘I see you learned something.’” Andy Griffith’s TV comedy downplayed it, but death was a real aspect of county life back then. And it influenced Rhonda. “Living out in the country in the
‘50s and early ‘60s, funeral rituals were different than now,” she says. “People died at home. Bodies were brought home. I was exposed to that as a child. Death was a part of life.” As a ninth grader, she once sat with her ailing grandmother, who was sleeping on the couch. Rhonda knew she was ailing but didn’t know she was dying. “She suddenly raised her arms and said, ‘It won’t be long, I’m coming. I’m coming,’” Rhonda vividly recalls. “I thought she was dreaming.” Her grandmother died a few hours later. “I have seen that repeatedly with patients,” she says. “But I had that exposure to death growing up, and it helped shape me. Hospice was not as frightening to me as a nurse as it might be to some folks.”
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nother aspect of childhood affected Rhonda’s career path. “I wanted to be a nurse since third grade when I got a nursing kit with a Red Cross arm badge,” she says. “I never wavered. I always wanted to be a nurse.” Determination led her to a nursing degree from Jax State. In 1977 she graduated, married, moved and became a night-shift nurse at Redmond Park Hospital in Rome, Georgia, earning $4.56 per hour. “I thought I’d hit the jackpot,” she beams. “I was licensed in a few months and got a 50-cent raise.” One day over lunch with Dr. Gerald McCormick, an oncologist, they discussed the guilt they felt over putting cancer patients through futile treatment. He mentioned a relatively new concept – hospice – that enabled the terminal to die at home with compassionate care. The idea drifted from England to the United States during the 1970s and, in 1982, was legislated for Medicare coverage. The need for such care was furthered
