Take the opportunity to tell people who are important to you what they mean to you. That is always a good way, but it’s important when death is near, too. Please don’t be afraid of the person you love when they’re dying. It is often not pretty. It is distressing. But often more so for those around than for the dying person, if she is being kept comfortable and out of pain with medication.
A close friend of mine died after 10 years of dealing with parotid gland cancer with resulting disfigurement and miserable life, except she was always so brave. I am happy to say that I did tell her what she meant to me and what our friendship meant to my life. My mom, the same, although she was pretty much demented for several months prior to her death. I am a retired RN and was always appalled at people who sent their loved ones to the hospital to die because they didn’t want them to die at home. It would have been better if they could have just stayed in familiar surroundings. Some died within hours of being admitted.
My mother was diagnosed with inoperable pancreatic cancer in March 1990 and died in November of that year. She was given a few rounds of radiation as a palliative measure, and was in remission for two or three months. When she was given the news that the cancer had returned, she told no one. Finally, when her decline could no longer be hidden, she told us the truth and added that she had withheld the information because she had been so saddened by the way everyone had treated her right after her diagnosis. She described it as "everyone treated me as if I was already dead, and the only thing anyone wanted to talk about was cancer. That was the only thing I *didn't* want to talk about." And she was absolutely right. I had done it myself.
I listened to your conversation with Stephanie on the "You Must Be Some Kind of Therapist" podcast. You are so right about how terrible we are dealing with death now. I highly recommend everyone listen to that episode.
I was at my mom's beside as she lay dying, her 2 brother's and their wives were also there. My mother was heavily medicated and only slightly conscious, but I think she knew we were with her, offering her comfort and promises that my two disabled siblings, one of which is my twin, would be cared for after her death. I've kept my promise to her. Those last moments are for both the dying and the living.
So true, Josh. The hospital said they had never seen a family like ours, as when we were told mam was terminal we basically just moved into the hospital for three weeks. As a result, we got to know everyone in the hospital: from the cafeteria staff to the cleaners. When she died, so many visitors came up to give us their condolences. We had almost become part of the hospital.
Truly, there is no greater love in life than a wonderful mother's love. I thank my lucky stars every day for the mother I had. So many of my friend's mother's have outlived my mam, but it doesn't much matter when they are cluster B or critical or detached.
I make it a point to tell my son and husband how important they are to me each day. It doesn't have to be a speech! I try to let my friends know likewise on a regular basis (I'm not perfect, I often forget)!
Amen, Josh. My sister, stepfather, and I were with Mom until the end. It was not pretty, and I wouldn't wish it on anyone, but I wouldn't trade the experience for anything.
A close friend of mine died after 10 years of dealing with parotid gland cancer with resulting disfigurement and miserable life, except she was always so brave. I am happy to say that I did tell her what she meant to me and what our friendship meant to my life. My mom, the same, although she was pretty much demented for several months prior to her death. I am a retired RN and was always appalled at people who sent their loved ones to the hospital to die because they didn’t want them to die at home. It would have been better if they could have just stayed in familiar surroundings. Some died within hours of being admitted.
My mother was diagnosed with inoperable pancreatic cancer in March 1990 and died in November of that year. She was given a few rounds of radiation as a palliative measure, and was in remission for two or three months. When she was given the news that the cancer had returned, she told no one. Finally, when her decline could no longer be hidden, she told us the truth and added that she had withheld the information because she had been so saddened by the way everyone had treated her right after her diagnosis. She described it as "everyone treated me as if I was already dead, and the only thing anyone wanted to talk about was cancer. That was the only thing I *didn't* want to talk about." And she was absolutely right. I had done it myself.
Thank you
I listened to your conversation with Stephanie on the "You Must Be Some Kind of Therapist" podcast. You are so right about how terrible we are dealing with death now. I highly recommend everyone listen to that episode.
I was at my mom's beside as she lay dying, her 2 brother's and their wives were also there. My mother was heavily medicated and only slightly conscious, but I think she knew we were with her, offering her comfort and promises that my two disabled siblings, one of which is my twin, would be cared for after her death. I've kept my promise to her. Those last moments are for both the dying and the living.
So true, Josh. The hospital said they had never seen a family like ours, as when we were told mam was terminal we basically just moved into the hospital for three weeks. As a result, we got to know everyone in the hospital: from the cafeteria staff to the cleaners. When she died, so many visitors came up to give us their condolences. We had almost become part of the hospital.
Truly, there is no greater love in life than a wonderful mother's love. I thank my lucky stars every day for the mother I had. So many of my friend's mother's have outlived my mam, but it doesn't much matter when they are cluster B or critical or detached.
Thank you, Josh! Death is a normal part of life, but we in the US tend to consider it... "icky." Life goes on - and that's exactly what you recommend.
My Dad, who was a country doctor, was known to say, "But for the certainty of death, birth would be life's greatest tragedy."
I make it a point to tell my son and husband how important they are to me each day. It doesn't have to be a speech! I try to let my friends know likewise on a regular basis (I'm not perfect, I often forget)!
We tend to assume people know.
Amen, Josh. My sister, stepfather, and I were with Mom until the end. It was not pretty, and I wouldn't wish it on anyone, but I wouldn't trade the experience for anything.
This is a long death watch. It's wearing and also tender, and there's a lot of love and family around.