The soft afternoon light streams through the windows of Ty Watson House, a converted heritage home nestled on a quiet Port Alberni street. The hospice’s living room, usually a haven of hushed conversations and gentle care, buzzes with unusual energy today as staff prepare for a significant visitor.
When B.C. Health Minister Adrian Dix arrives, he removes his shoes at the door—a small gesture that speaks volumes to the staff who’ve created this home-like environment for end-of-life care. It’s not his first visit to this community hospice, and the familiarity shows.
“This is one of the most exceptional hospice facilities in the province,” Dix tells me as we tour the six-bed facility. “What makes Ty Watson House special isn’t just the care they provide, but how they’ve woven themselves into the fabric of this community.”
Operated by the Alberni Valley Hospice Society since 2008, Ty Watson House represents something increasingly rare in healthcare—a community-driven solution that preceded government involvement. Long before provincial funding became available, local volunteers raised funds, renovated the heritage home, and staffed it with trained caregivers.
Teresa Ludvigson, the hospice society’s executive director, walks alongside the minister, pointing out renovations completed during the pandemic. “We’ve been here for fifteen years now, but the need keeps growing,” she explains. “Our community has really embraced this place as their own.”
That community ownership is evident everywhere—from the handcrafted quilts on each bed to the fully stocked kitchen where volunteers prepare meals. A memory garden behind the house offers families a place for reflection, with plants donated by local nurseries.
What strikes me during this visit is how Ty Watson House embodies an alternative to the clinical approach to death and dying. Here, care extends beyond medical needs to embrace the human experience of life’s final chapter.
“People shouldn’t have to leave their community to die with dignity,” says Dr. Carrie Marshall, a local physician who provides medical support to hospice patients. “Having Minister Dix see firsthand what we’ve built here matters because rural communities often feel overlooked in healthcare planning.”
The minister’s visit comes as British Columbia faces increasing pressure to expand palliative care options. According to the Canadian Hospice Palliative Care Association, only 30 percent of Canadians have access to quality palliative care despite growing demand as our population ages.
In Port Alberni, a city still recovering from the decline of resource industries, the hospice represents both practical healthcare and community resilience. Volunteer coordinator Janet Schlackl tells me they have over 120 active volunteers, many of whom first encountered the hospice when their own loved ones received care here.
“We couldn’t exist without them,” she says. “They’re the heart of what makes this place work.”
During a roundtable discussion, Dix listens as staff describe challenges—sustainable funding, recruiting specialized staff to a smaller community, and the increased complexity of care needs they’re seeing. The minister takes notes, asking pointed questions about what provincial supports would make the biggest difference.
“The pandemic taught us how important community-based care is,” Dix acknowledges. “Places like Ty Watson House kept providing compassionate care even when larger systems were strained.”
While government funding now supports some operational costs, the hospice still relies on community donations for about 40 percent of its budget. This hybrid model offers both challenges and benefits—the freedom to respond to local needs without bureaucratic delays, but also the constant pressure of fundraising.
As we move through the kitchen, a volunteer is baking cookies, filling the house with a comforting aroma. It’s these small touches of normalcy that residents and families frequently mention in the guest book displayed in the entry hall.
“My father spent his final days here,” one entry reads. “He said it felt like coming home.”
The ministry’s increased focus on hospice care reflects growing recognition that how we die matters as much as how we live. Provincial health authorities report that patients who receive appropriate palliative care often experience better symptom management, fewer emergency room visits, and more meaningful final days with loved ones.
Yet challenges remain, particularly in smaller communities like Port Alberni. Geography creates access barriers. Healthcare worker shortages hit rural areas hardest. Cultural attitudes toward death and dying evolve slowly.
As the minister’s visit concludes, he sits with a resident’s family in the sunroom. Their conversation is private, but the family’s gratitude is visible. Later, they tell me what a difference it made to have the minister hear their story directly.
Walking through the garden before departing, Dix reflects on what he’s seen. “When we talk about healthcare transformation, we often focus on technology and specialized medicine. But sometimes, the most innovative care looks like this—a home where people are seen as whole human beings right to the end.”
For the staff and volunteers who’ve created this sanctuary, the minister’s visit offers validation of their approach. But tomorrow, when the cameras and officials have gone, they’ll return to the quiet, sacred work that happens here every day—helping people live fully until they die.
As I leave Ty Watson House, the sun is setting over the mountains that embrace this valley. A volunteer arrives for the evening shift, carrying fresh flowers from her garden. The door closes softly behind her—another day of community care beginning as the outside world fades away.
