遺愿實現隊

The People Who Make Last Wishes Come True

I’ve learned that people who are going to die have little wishes，” says Kees Veldboer， the ambulance driver who founded the Stichting Ambulance Wens， or Ambulance Wish Foundation.

In November 2006 he was moving a terminally ill patient， Mario Stefanutto， from one hospital to another. But just after they put him on the 1）stretcher， they were told there would be a delay—the receiving hospital wasn’t ready. Stefanutto had no desire to get back in the bed where he had spent the past three months， so Veldboer asked if there was anywhere he would like to go.

The retired seaman asked if they could take him to the Vlaardingen 2）canal， so he could be by the water and say a final goodbye to 3）Rotterdam harbour. It was a sunny day， and they stayed on the 4）dockside for nearly an hour. “Tears of joy ran over his face，” says Veldboer. “When I asked him： ‘Would you like to have the opportunity to sail again？’ he said it would be impossible because he lay on a stretcher.”

Veldboer was determined to make this man’s last wish come true. He asked his boss if he could borrow an ambulance on his day off， recruited the help of a colleague and contacted a firm that does boat tours around Rotterdam harbour—they were all happy to help， and the following Friday， to Stefanutto’s astonishment， the ambulance driver turned up at his hospital bedside to take him sailing.

That was the 5）genesis of the Ambulance Wish Foundation. Veldboer and his wife Ineke， a nurse， started it at their kitchen table eight years ago. Now it has 230 volunteers， six ambulances and a holiday home， and is fast approaching 7，000 fulfilled wishes. On average， the charity helps four people a day—they can be any age and the only 6）stipulation is that patients are terminally ill and can’t be transported other than on a stretcher.

Although other charities offer terminally ill patients a day out， the Ambulance Wish Foundation was the first to provide an ambulance and full medical back-up. There is always a fully-trained nurse on board， and the specialist drivers tend to come from the police and fire brigades. The specially-designed ambulances have a view， and every patient receives a teddy bear called Mario， named after Stefanutto.

“It gives us volunteers so much satisfaction to see people enjoying themselves，” says Roel Foppen， a former soldier who acts as a driver. Over the past six years he has helped to fulfil 300 wishes.

Once he went as far as Romania， a 4，500km roundtrip. It was for a woman called Nadja， who had lived in the Netherlands for 12 years. Her children， aged three and seven， were already back in Romania with her family， and she wanted to go there to die.

“She was so ill we couldn’t even touch her，” says Foppen. They left on a Thursday morning， but as they were driving through Germany Nadja’s condition 7）deteriorated， so they stopped at a hospital. Doctors recommended Nadja stay there， but she wanted to see her children—and her wish was what counted. After a three-hour delay they carried on， through Austria， then Hungary—when they reached the Romanian border， Nadja said， “Take the stretcher out， now I can die！”

Foppen said， “It’s just another 600km to your mother and your children—could you 8）hang on just a little longer？” On the Saturday the ambulance arrived in 9）Bucharest for an emotional reunion. Then the crew drove back， leaving Nadja behind. Her family sent a card to say she died two weeks later.

“If people know we’re coming， they find new reserves of energy，” says Foppen. “Often the family tell us they were about to cancel because the patient was so ill， but when we arrive they are 10）beaming， ready for their day out.”

Knot， who works as a 11）district nurse. She first came across the charity when she was invited along by a cancer patient she had grown close to. The experience made Knot so enthusiastic she wrote to Veldboer to offer her services.

“Every time is special. You discuss it with your colleagues on the way home and it’s always special， no matter how small，” says Knot. “I had one lady who just wanted a glass of advocaat （a thick egg liqueur） at home. So her son bought a bottle， we went to her house， she spooned up the advocaat and we went back. That was her wish.”

“People ask， ‘Isn’t it draining？ Isn’t it emotional， always dealing with last wishes？’ Yes it is， but often people are ready to die because they are so far down the line， and then it’s nice to give them something they really want，” she says.

Frans Lepelaar is a former policeman who now drives for the charity. After 20 years behind a desk， investigating 12）fraud， he wanted to get back to helping people face-toface.

“It can be a long day—you could be back in the middle of the night. We always ask， ‘Do you want anything more？’ They’re always grateful. That’s what you do it for，” he says.

In 2014， Lepelaar and his colleague Olaf Exoo took Mario， a 54-year-old man with learning difficulties， to say a final goodbye to his colleagues at Rotterdam Zoo， where he had worked for 25 years. At the end of his shift as a maintenance man he used to always visit the animals， and they took him on his rounds one last time.

When they reached the giraffe 13）enclosure they were invited in， and it was then that one of the more curious giraffes came over and gave Mario a lick on the face. He was too ill to speak， but his face lit up， says Exoo， whose photograph of the “giraffe’s kiss” made headlines.

“It’s intense， but that’s why it’s interesting，” says Mirjam Lok， a 25-year-old nurse. “You don’t know who you’ll meet when you walk through the door， and at the end of the day you have fulfilled their last wish， you close the door and you think—that was good.”

Following the huge success of his venture， Veldboer has helped to set up similar ambulance services abroad， first in Israel—after taking a Jewish woman to Jerusalem， where she wanted to die—then in Belgium， Germany and Sweden.

A practical， no-nonsense man， he admits that setting up the foundation has given him confidence. “I used to think I didn’t amount to much， but then I discovered my ideas aren’t that bad after all. I’ve learned that if you follow your heart and do things your own way， people will support you.”

“I’m just a very ordinary Dutch guy who does what he likes best， and my hobby is helping others.”

“我了解到將死之人的心里都有一些小小的心愿。”凱斯·韋德波爾說，他就是那個成立了“救護車許愿基金會”的救護車司機。

2006年11月，他當時正準備把一位重病晚期病人馬里奧·斯特法努托轉移到另一間醫院。但正當他們把病人抬到擔架上時，他們被告知轉移工作將會延遲——接收醫院還沒準備好。斯特法努托不想再回到病床上，他之前已經在那里躺了三個月，所以韋德波爾問他有沒有什么想去的地方。

這位退休的水手問他們可否帶他去符拉爾丁根運河，這樣他就能在岸邊與鹿特丹海港作最后的道別。那是個陽光明媚的日子，他們在碼頭邊上待了將近一個小時。“欣慰的淚水劃過他的臉龐。”韋德波爾說道。“我問他：‘你希望有機會再次航海嗎？’他說那是不可能的，因為他躺在擔架上。”

韋德波爾決心要幫助這個男人實現最后的愿望。于是他問上司，他可否在放假時借用一輛救護車，請來一位同事幫忙，并聯系一家提供游覽鹿特丹海港服務的游船公司——他們都很樂意提供幫助。所以在接下來的星期五，斯特法努托大吃一驚，因為韋德波爾這位救護車司機出現在他的病床邊，說要帶他去航海。

這就是“救護車許愿基金會”成立的起源。八年前，韋德波爾和他那位當護士的妻子伊奈可在廚房的餐桌上談起要建立這個基金會。如今，該基金會已經擁有230名志愿者，六臺救護車以及一間假日別墅。此外，該基金會已經幫助病患實現將近7000個愿望。……