This is a post of mine from last year:
Good Morning, Students,
I thought you might want to know that I witnessed a death early this
morning, while I was on-shift with hospice in the 11th hour program. I
took the 3am-8am shift because I didn't have work today and knew I could
sleep during the day if necessary.
The nurse came in maybe around 4am? I explained who I was, said I was
on-shift until 8am. She said, I don't think you'll be here that long.
And she was right. The death was very peaceful -- breathing slowed and
then finally stopped. No "death rattle," nothing dramatic, just
stopped. I got the nursing aid to confirm the death, which she did, and
then the nurse came back from wherever she had been working.
I didn't pay attention to the time when I thought she had stopped
breathing. I wanted confirmation from a professional that what seemed
to have happened really did happen. I was a tiny bit surprised when the
nurse asked me what time she died, which was needed for the official
paperwork. I checked the time I called in to hospice and then subtracted
a few minutes. I think I was responsible for the official time of
death. Interesting, eh? But, obviously, who else would know better
than the person who was there when the death happened?
Time of death. We mark it by the hour and the minute, but I'm not sure
it is really that precise. Breathing stops, so the heart must follow
soon after. But the body is still warm. If a spirit or soul leaves,
when does that happen? It makes the most sense to me -- and I'm not
even certain that we have spirits or even individual souls/spirits --
that the soul/psyche/anima/spirit/energy just kind of fades away. I
think that's how much? most? dying must be -- just falling asleep,
losing connection, fading away. Not the dramatic, fighting against
death kind of dying, but the "normal," end-of-a-reasonably-long-life
kind of dying. The energy source just runs out.
It feels significant to be with someone who is actively dying, but, at
least for me, it doesn't feel mystical. It feels more . . . ."natural"?
Not trivial by any means, but not dramatic. And not scary, either.
Don't be scared about this kind of dying. Other, horrible accident,
rushed-to-the-ER dying probably is very scary (we can ask Melissa to
weigh in here), but not all dying is out of a movie. This is just
companionship, a walking-with, holding a hand or just touching the
person's arm or forehead. And then your work is done and there is a
different kind of work to do by others -- washing and dressing the body,
moving the body to the funeral home or wherever. Don't be scared of a
body, either, in this kind of natural dying. Skin color can look
different -- but someone who is alive and very sick also might have an
"unnatural" skin color. Being with someone you don't know is moving,
meaningful, significant and that moves me to tears, but it isn't sad the
way the death of someone you know, or know well, is sad, wrenching,
dizzying, and/or disorienting.
The facility was Catholic, but I'm not sure if this patient was. But
how meaningful to die or be with someone dying on Good Friday, right?
It was comforting to leave in the light, to come home to furry, playful
cats and have breakfast with my husband. I'm looking forward to seeing
friends and family this weekend and a bright, beautiful, joyous Easter.
Peace.
This tale is very sad. This makes me think of the night when my great-grandmother passed away back in December. When I arrived at my grandmothers house she was still alive, but she was not speaking. The only way of communication for her was how tight she would squeeze your hand. She had an 'unnatural' color when I arrived as well. She died maybe three hours later in the Emergency Room. When I went in to say my goodbye to her, she still had that 'unnatural' skin color, but it had changed in a way. Like the light in her disappeared. She passed away with her children that was still living in the room holding onto her, letting her know that they were there and that it was ok to pass on and that everything would be alright.
ReplyDeleteThe comment above me reminds me of my experience with death as well. Since I was little I've experienced all different kinds of death. When I was three years old I was at my grandparents house with my parents. My mom and grandpa were in the living room and he was handing my mom an old antique clock and telling her a story behind it and how she deserved it because of her new raise. As soon as he handed her the clock, my grandpa fell over with a heart attack. I was so close to him that my mom threw the clock across the room, and pushed me so hard I flew back into the next room. If she wouldn't have done that, my grandpa would have landed on my little body. That was the most intense and scariest death I have personally experienced. However, I don't think it was scary for my grandpa but scarier for all of us because it was not in a hospital, it was not something we were prepared for, and there were no previous signs. With that being said, My yiayia died in hospice and it was very natural and peaceful. We were all prepared, but it was still very hard. I remember her being unconscious but she was still there I could tell. Right when she died you just felt the life leave. I can't really explain it but I think it was an experience I needed to have. To watch someone I love peacefully leave this earth and move on to a next one.
ReplyDeleteOh and my mom still has the antique clock which we found out was called "a stairway to heaven".
DeleteMy only experience with witnessing a death occurred on the night of my mom's 42nd birthday and it happened to be my best friend's mom. Her family was supposed to be on vacation, but we had found out she had been admitted to the hospital and she was not doing very well; she had been fighting a rare form of spinal cord cancer for several years. After school on October 5, 2007, my mom and I went straight to the hospital to be with their family. She ended up passing later that night. I don't remember much of that day besides the crying and stories that were being shared, but I remember as soon as they told us she passes away there was a bell that went off in the hospital that signified that a baby had been born. I was comforted knowing that she would no longer be suffering and knowing that a new life began as one ended.
ReplyDeleteWhat a great experience that you shared. I have been in the "last moments" situation more than one would want to be. It is interesting that when placed in the role of being by the side of the dying, the closest details of the moment(s) stand out to you. We notice the color of skin, breathing changes and facial expression. We can recall the song playing when the person passed on and even what happens after death. Most gather around and talk about the good times and how their loved on is not suffering any longer. The ritual is beautiful and certainly memorable. Personally, it is a honor to hold the hand of the person transitioning to the afterlife. I was the nurse in a nursing facility and one man was alone even when no one else came to see him, not even family. The other staff were going about their routine and there he was laying in bed holding onto his last breaths going unnoticed. He had pneumonia but was not improving. With experience it was evident that he was minutes from dying. I sat down next to him on the bed... grabbed his hand and he squeezed it. His eyes were partially open and he tried to speak but was unable. The fluid in his lungs prevented him from talking. I reassured him that he was not alone and said a prayer. I also told him it was alright to let go if he felt like he needed too. A tingle went through my body and at that moment he stopped breathing with my hand around his held with a tight squeeze. I began crying and smiled that he was not alone. Being a nurse at that moment made all of the bad days seem so small and all of the work little. His family did not even want to come to see him before he was taken to the funeral home. There are so many like him that do not have the chance to have someone by their side and if anyone can help I encourage all of you to be involved. It will be the best decision you ever make.
ReplyDeleteThank you for sharing that experience with us. I have never actually watched someone die or been in the room when someone died but I have lost a couple of older family members recently. I already shared this story with Dr. Cate but did not feel comfortable sharing this story in class so I will share it on the blog...
ReplyDeleteAbout a month ago on a Sunday, my great-uncle was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. My family was told that he would live a couple weeks longer. On Thursday night during the same week I had a dream that he died. The next day, my mom came home from work crying and told me that he had passed away over night. This was such a strange occurrence and I'm not sure I will ever know if I just had the dream because I had been thinking about him the night before or what. Maybe I had that dream so that I could be stronger for my mom and my grandma the next day.
I’ve had a very similar situation occur with my adopted father. He had a very aggressive form of throat cancer that spread throughout his body in a very short time. Toward the end hospice was called to help him be comfortable and to help our family with the transition. The cancer had totally ravished his body to where he could barely stand and the medication that he was put on took away his mental capacities. We all had our emotion days but at the end when he finally went in his sleep surrounded by many people and much more love, it was a relief when he finally died. The peaceful deaths after a long time of suffering in my opinion are a relief to the people who have had the battles and especially the family.
ReplyDeleteI have never had someone in my family have to go through anything like this as a patient but I am no stranger to hospice. My mom is a registered nurse and has had to do some work there in aiding the patients. My mom would tell me stories of how sad that it is and what it is like for the patients that are going through the process. I never thought that I would have to witness the process first hand. But during my senior year of high school my best friends grandfather was diagnosed with cancer and was not doing well at all. I had grown up with him ad we are really close to this day, he is like a member of my family so we were all together every step of the way. From the doctor visits all the way until his last day in hospice. It is something that I will never forget.
ReplyDeleteI agree with you in saying that death is not a dramatic experience as people who have never viewed a death may expect. I watched my dad pass away when I was 15. We all knew it was coming, and leading up to it, I had definitely played out scenarios in my head as to how it would happen and how I would feel. My dad died at 5:15 pm on a Wednesday night, but I also agree with you in saying that I don't think it happened at that exact moment. The whole day was downhill for my dad and 5:15 was simply after he had taken his last breath. On the last day, he couldn't speak to us, he could barely open his eyes. Part of me thinks he had died the day earlier, when his mental capabilities had left him. After he had "officially" died, I didn't cry like I thought I would. I just felt numb and it was surreal, nothing like I had seen on the medical TV shows. We did sit there with his body for about two hours, saying our final words to him, collecting the rings he was wearing off of his fingers. I don't think anyone can ever prepare themselves to witness a death, because each dying process is unique and will have individual effects on each person. However, each death does have something in common, and that commonality is that it makes each witness reflect on how they are living life and may also make their own death more tangible. I still wear one of my dad's rings sometimes to remind me that this life is short and that I need to live it to the fullest.
ReplyDeleteEach death is a special and unique experience; all of them end differently, whether they are dramatic, or peaceful. Two deaths in particular that happened in my family show how opposite deaths can be. When I was about 9 years old my mom received a phone call while the rest of us were watching The Simpsons. The day had been a good day up until that moment. My mom's voice began to get sad and I knew something bad had happened. She hung up of the phone and came to sit with my brother and I on the couch. She then explained how my uncle had a sudden heart attack and had passed away. It is crazy to think that earlier that day he was sitting and watching a Bengals game, and then that night he was laying in a morgue dead. I can't grasp how life can be pulled away from a healthy 50 year old that quickly. On the opposite side of the spectrum was my Aunt who had ALS. She lived with it for 6 years. It was horrible to watch her slowly become like a child again; at first she would just fall going up and down stairs a lot. Then, as it progressed she was put into scooter like chair, and had to be fed by others, etc. Her death was a slow and tortuous process. When she was moved to Hospice she wasn't hooked up to any ventilators or tubes, and so she slowly died by her lungs filling up with fluids and suffocating to death. Everyone in the family had time to prepare for her death, we knew that she was going downhill and we had time to say our goodbyes. With my Uncle though, no one saw it coming, and we couldn't saw bye. Death is scary, especially because so much is unknown to us; one of the most frightening aspects is will we be able to say our goodbyes at the end or will it be immediate?
ReplyDeleteWhat a powerful experience that must have been. I remember with both of my aunts and my grandpa the situations were different as to when I felt the soul had left them. For one Aunt, she overdosed on cocaine. It was an overnight difference and it was obvious her soul was gone once her body "came back" from the overdose. For my grandfather and my other aunt it was a little different. It was much slower and goes along with what you say in regards to the soul fading away. We would notice here and there that they would experience major behavioral changes and memory issues. Eventually it went from every now and then to a daily routine and it was obvious their soul was slowly going away, being pushed out by multiple strokes and dementia. The departure of a soul can differ from person to person in my experience, sometimes it's immediate, sometimes it fades quickly, and sometimes it fades slowly.
ReplyDeleteWhat a powerful experience that must have been. I remember with both of my aunts and my grandpa the situations were different as to when I felt the soul had left them. For one Aunt, she overdosed on cocaine. It was an overnight difference and it was obvious her soul was gone once her body "came back" from the overdose. For my grandfather and my other aunt it was a little different. It was much slower and goes along with what you say in regards to the soul fading away. We would notice here and there that they would experience major behavioral changes and memory issues. Eventually it went from every now and then to a daily routine and it was obvious their soul was slowly going away, being pushed out by multiple strokes and dementia. The departure of a soul can differ from person to person in my experience, sometimes it's immediate, sometimes it fades quickly, and sometimes it fades slowly.
ReplyDeleteI could only imagine witnessing this experience. The point about how death occurs was one that I found very interesting. I think we all long to pass like you described. Peacefully without any drama. Just slowly stop breathing, comfortably and I agree with your thoughts that the soul fades out at that very moment leaving only the body to be buried in the Earth. Back to soil we return.
ReplyDeleteThis story is very relatable, being I just had a recent death in the family. It's sad to see someone go even if it is in the most natural circumstance. My girlfriend's grandma, who I consider my own, just passed away after being relieved of life support. After having multiple strokes, she was forced to have immediate brain surgery. The surgery was successful and she started to get better, but then it started to get worse. After that it was downhill, there was nothing more they could do. We had to let her go.
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