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While at the Cancilla residence, Jeanne slips an envelope to Anthony's side of the table. Her co-worker landed extra free tickets to the Great America theme park and Jeanne knew exactly who should have them. The uncle is almost reluctant to accept the gift, but he finally opens the envelope and repeats several thank-you's.

For Antonio's uncle, Jeanne's visits are vital. "She explains everything step by step, and I can call any time of night," Anthony explains. "It takes a lot of pressure off."

Sometimes, she offers clinical information, like explaining that Antonio's medication causes his face and limbs to swell. Other times, she simply listens.

He's not doing well," the uncle says to her. "We sat and talked, and he keeps saying he doesn't want to die."

Fabricius admitted that experiences like this would have frustrated her in the past. Earlier in her hospice career, she questioned God's reasons for allowing the death of children. But after taking care of more than 500 patients ranging from 1 week old to 100 years old, she's found peace in knowing she can't understand why, at least for now.

"I do get sad sometimes, but I know my mission is to help patients die as comfortably as possible," she said. "I feel very fulfilled when my patients die comfortably in their own homes."

A secondary mission for hospice nurses is to offer support to caregivers who are often bewildered by a slew of new responsibilities. Deborah Gates, 48, had been married to Stephen Gates for less than two years when doctors told the couple in July that her husband's renal cancer had spread to his liver, spine and chest. Gates remembers feeling emotionally wrenched when her husband said he wanted to go fishing one last time before he died.

"Jeanne [Fabricius] told me that I shouldn't tell him 'No,' but instead to tell him 'We're seeing what we can do about that,' " Gates said.

Gates also said she felt irritated when her husband would tear off clothing she had just carefully dressed him with, but Fabricius explained that this behavior, called terminal agitation, was normal.

Consoling caregivers is a particularly crucial part of the job for Christy Torkildson, MSN, RN, coordinator of the pediatric palliative care program at University of Texas Health Science Center in San Antonio. She provides hospice-type care to children who are dying, and regularly sees just how much pain these parents experience. "Some parents do very well, but some have a hard time and it takes a long time to work through their grief," she said. "The ones who do best are the ones who embrace the experience in some way and have support and spirituality."

In many cases, it's the children who help the parents embrace the situation. Torkildson remembered one 13-year-old boy with bone cancer who recorded tapes for his little sister to open on special birthdays because he wouldn't be there. There was also a 17-year-old girl who told her mother she'd die on her birthday because this way her mother would have to be sad only one day a year. She did. Torkildson also recounted the story of a 5-year-old girl who made a will and gave her favorite toys to specific people.