“But at least he’d died at home and not some hospice. Who in their right mind wanted to die among the dying? Or surrounded by a load of caring, sharing hospice nurses hell-bent on making sure you’d drawn up a “good death plan.” If you were having an OK day, somebody might wheel you into the hospice garden and sit you on a wooden bench donated by relatives of a former dying person. From there you would, no doubt, have an uninterrupted view of the ornamental fountain and fiberglass flamingos.”