AMHERST — The smell of smoke has mostly faded and the ashes have been swept away. From the outside, it all looks the same — bright flowers and big windows. But on the inside, it’s hollow, lonely rooms awaiting their inhabitants.
One town over, they’ve tried to go on as usual. There’s work to be done, work they love. They’re grateful things weren’t any worse, but when they pass each other in the hallway, they always say the same thing.
“I want to go home.”
When a fire damaged its building and displaced six patients on July 22, Hospice of the Fisher Home in Amherst moved its residential operations to New England Health Center in Sunderland. No one was hurt and the transition was smooth, but they’re aching to move back where they belong.
At first, she could smell it, but she couldn’t see it.
Maribel Hammond, a certified nursing assistant, heard the smoke alarm beeping in the Fisher Home when the fire began. She smelled smoke and checked the stove, wondering if something was burning.
The fire started somewhere in the ceiling above the kitchen, gnawing at the insulation, wiring and wood frame. When the smoke drifted into the halls, Hammond and the other staff members snapped into gear. Someone called 911, and then they scrambled to get their six patients out of the building.
In the moment, things were simple, Hammond said. She rushed to her patients’ rooms, lifting them out of bed and into Geri chairs, wheeling them outside to safety. In retrospect, it seems wilder.
“I can’t believe I was able to do that,” Hammond said.
Belchertown and Amherst fire departments, as well as the Amherst Police Department, responded within seven minutes and helped move the patients out of the building. Ambulances whisked away those who required oxygen tanks.
Maria Rivera, clinical director at the Fisher Home, had set up a disaster plan with New England Health Center a few months earlier. As soon as she was out of the building, Rivera called and was relieved to hear that they could house all of Fisher’s patients.
“These are not your average patients. They’re at the end of their lives and they’re fragile,” Rivera said. “We needed good communication on both sides, to keep track of their conditions and make sure they made it to New England safely. We were lucky to have that.”
Liz Weissbach was writing letters to her family when she got a call from one of her staff members, telling her that something was very wrong.
Weissbach, executive director of the Fisher Home, jumped in the car without knowing what she was heading toward.
“Frankly, I couldn’t even imagine it. The worst thing I could think of was a fire,” Weissbach said.
The street was lined was fire trucks, ambulances and police cruisers when she arrived. Firefighters were containing the blaze, and some patients were already being moved to New England Health Center. Others were sitting in wheelchairs in the gazebo, watching the events unfold while staff members took their vital signs.
The fire scorched the back wing of the building — offices, a sitting room and the kitchen. A week before, all the cabinets had been repainted, a pleasant sandy color. A donor had recently paid to have the flooring replaced with bright blue tiles. Other donors had just gifted the Fisher Home with a new refrigerator and dishwasher.
“We had all these new things, sparkling fresh. Everyone was so happy,” Weissbach said. “Now we don’t know if they’ll be totaled or kept, even though all these wonderful people had just donated them. That’s one of the sad parts.”
The fire activated the sprinkler systems and flooded the ceilings, adding water damage in addition to what the fire destroyed. The combined damage has led to much uncertainty for the Fisher Home — they’ve heard varied estimates about when they’ll be able to move back, ranging from one month to four.
The days since the fire have been a blend of grief and gratitude, Weissbach said. Fisher Home’s insurance will pay for much of the cleanup and rebuilding, which is expected to cost hundreds of thousands of dollars. Neighbors, volunteers, friends and family have offered all kinds of help: transportation, office space, food, carpentry. The easiest way for people to help, Weissbach said, is to donate online at www.fisherhome.org.
The fire never made it to patients’ rooms, but the smoke permeated the entire building. Mattresses, clothing and personal effects were sent to be cleaned, soon to be returned to their owners.
“That’s a big deal, because if someone has something with them here, in hospice, you know it’s very important to them,” Rivera said.
Susan Ferron rested in her new home, tucked into bed beneath a fuzzy blanket bearing the Virgin Mary, with Ed Olander, a registered nurse at the Fisher Home, to keep her company.
Ferron had been in hospice care at the Fisher Home for about six months before the fire. Nurses and CNAs like Olander have striven to keep Ferron and other patients comfortable in its wake. Fisher Home’s staff of 22, and its 50-odd volunteers, are drifting back and forth between their temporary, crowded home and their permanent, empty one.
New England can house Fisher Home’s current patients, but cannot fit any additional ones. Fisher Home can normally keep up to nine patients in residential care, but cannot take any new referrals until they are back in their own building. They can, however, take on new patients in need of private care in their own homes.
Fisher Home’s staff has fit right in, said Robin Martin, director of nursing at New England. They brought their own supplies and patients but share the space.
“They’ve been amazing,” Martin said. “They’re so full of passion and so respectful to us and our staff. The transition couldn’t have been any smoother.”
Although they’ve managed to transfer their operations smoothly to New England, Hammond said the Fisher people miss their home. Divided between the new building and the old, staff members don’t get to spend the time together that they usually do. They feel like a family separated.
For now, Fisher Home is just an empty building. When they move back, it’ll be home.
“When it comes down to it, it’s a building, but what we do in it sets us apart,” Hammond said. “When people think of hospice, they think of dark, dreary halls and sadness. But there are embraces and laughter there, too. It’s a beautiful place, and a beautiful thing that we have.”