Volunteers hooked on helping others
By Susan Kreimer
Knight Ridder News Service
DALLAS — The altruistic bug bit Tom Simon Jr. in 1988. While working in retail management, he supported a fund-raiser for muscular dystrophy.
"People would come in and donate a dollar, and they could put their name on a shamrock. We'd put the shamrock up in the store," said Simon, 44, who works in Dallas.
Since 1993, he has spent a week every summer volunteering at a muscular dystrophy camp. The experience led him to quit selling residential real estate and start selling home medical equipment such as wheelchairs, walkers and canes:
"All of a sudden, you give them the means to be mobile again and get a drink of water or go outside by themselves. It means a lot to them and to me to be able to do that," said Simon, who took a big pay cut with the job move to a medical supply firm.
As healthcare volunteers become immersed in patients' lives, experts say, the desire to switch careers isn't all that unusual. Some consider it a tryout that can turn into a lifelong line of paying work.
"Look at me," said Carol Bourland of Odyssey HealthCare Inc., a nationwide hospice provider based in Dallas. "I volunteered for 20 years, not knowing that I was going to end up as a professional volunteer coordinator."
Under her direction are about 60 volunteers, many of them community college students.
"It gives them a chance to test the waters," said Bourland, 55. "They might decide it's not for them. It's much easier to volunteer for a few hours than to be hired into a position and find out later."
If interest remains, the unpaid service becomes an impressive resume builder. "It shows they're well-rounded," Bourland said. "I've given out several professional references for volunteers who are looking for positions."
Among them is Sharyn Hamilton, who donates her time to Odyssey and Bryan's House, a home for kids in families with HIV/AIDS. Bottle-feeding, spoon-feeding, playing with toys — for three years, Hamilton has been there to help with smiles at the darkest times.
"I always walked out feeling better than when I walked in," she said. "You make someone else happy, and it makes you feel so special inside."
Hamilton, who turns 61 in October, sat with an 86-year-old man dying of lung cancer. "I would walk in and he would be kind of sad," she recalled about their yearlong friendship. "As soon as I saw his face, I would sing, 'Hey, good lookin', whatcha got cookin'?' I would be really animated, and he'd always smile."
When he died, relatives invited her to speak at his funeral.
She decided to abandon her longtime occupation — selling fragrances at big-name department stores — to do this kind of work for a living.
Her first paying client, last year, was a man in his 30s who suffers from multiple sclerosis. Since then, she has cared for a half-dozen others. "I do almost anything they want," Hamilton said. "I do their nails. I give them massages. I would take them on errands if they needed to go, or to the doctor's office."
Working as a volunteer rubbed off on David Waks, too. During high school in Dallas, he joined a program that offers young people a look at careers with police and fire departments. While riding with paramedics, he measured vital signs.
"I've seen the versatility and practicality of being a nurse," said Waks, 19, a junior at Drexel University in Philadelphia who hopes to apply his nursing school training in a law-enforcement career — " for example, the ability to rapidly treat patients while on patrol as an officer," he said.
