Watching my father dying in slow motion is agony.
I can’t believe that there is any human benefit in prolonging his current state of existence. I use that word, “existence”, because “life” isn’t what he has at this point. He has progressed beyond some tipping point, and no longer has those little moments of pleasure. Food, drink, people, touch, photos, and memories no longer have any meaning for him. If he’s not under the influence of strong drugs, agony is what is left.
He has been getting a couple of drops of morphine to control pain in recent weeks, but was left totally doped up. So the dose was stepped down at the beginning of this week, which in hindsight may not have been the best choice.
When I saw him on Tuesday, he was restless, unable to find any comfortable position in the bed, groaning in endless pain. He did have a couple of moments of some clarity.
I think I arrived just after one of the hospice staff had been there with him.
He opened his eyes, acknowledged my arrival. Then he spoke, with considerable difficulty, his words scraping out of his dry throat into the room.
“Now I know I’m a patient,” he said, then closed his eyes.
In that moment, he no longer thought he was in a fine hotel, as he has through much of the past two years.
Then he added: “I’m in bad shape.”
After that, it he drifted in and out of consciousness.
He knows what’s happening. He endures, so far, but there’s nothing ennobling about the experience, no saving grace for him or for those of us who will survive him.
I’m find myself angry at those who have wielded their particular religious beliefs as political weapons to block “right to die” or “death with dignity” legislation.
I had a haircut earlier this week, and unloaded on unsuspecting Leila, my barber, when she asked how I was doing. She responded with common sense.
“It’s torture, isn’t it?”
Yes, it is.
She pointed out that prisoners sentenced to death have a legal right to die with a minimum of pain and suffering.
Pets, the same. We have always been willing to pay for good veterinary care, but we recognize the point where there is no quality of life remaining and our pets deserve to be put out of their misery.
If my all-time favorite cat were in my father’s present condition, we would be making that last long drive to the vet’s office to say a tearful goodbye.
So pets and criminals have a right to die peacefully. Our parents, friends, and our selves deserve the same option.
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Like others who have commented here, thinking back on my own experience with one parent, I was deeply grateful for the assistance of hospice workers. They helped define that fine line between palliative care and — I’ll just say the word — euthanasia that permitted us to make her comfortable without actually killing her, which no one wanted. Like your Dad, she stopped eating and later talking and communicated only thru her eyes. We could tell when morphine administered by oral drops was needed and responded accordingly. She went quietly within a few days, not entirely without pain, but not wracked by it, either.
There are no “right” answers here. I will say, however, that both the patient and family have more autonomy in these situations when the patient is at home and under the care of family with the assistance of non-sectarian hospice volunteers. I think you catch my drift.
Ah, yes.
Reminds us of near term choices. Vote for a state religion or thoughtful independence. That choice is ours.
“Reminds us of near term choices…Vote… state religion… thoughtful independence”
whaaa…?! Not me. Reminds us of how tenuous “life” is. Reminds us of how near and dear to us our loved ones are and that we want to show them while they are still with us, all they mean to us. Reminds us to not take for granted each day we have with Mom and Dad. Reminds us even though we may know they are going to “a better place”, the passage to there… is not the easiest thing for everyone to experience… No matter how many millennia humanity has endured the “event”. Reminds us we are all human and need to express our selves and our love to each other while we are here. Reminds us although it is not an easy thing to do, being a part of this transitionary period, we will rise to the occasion when the time comes… and be stronger for it.
Reminds us of sooo much, that we seldom think on…
If I may, it also reminds me of much that I learned back in the days of studying esoteric philosophy, which among so much else, taught me: Life and death are not opposites. Birth and death are opposites. For life, it flows into form.. and it flows out of form. The form being our temporal “house” if you will… for the time being. This blink of an eye in the midst of all time, eternal space and eternity… The form of the persona we grow to love so much, in this short earthly duration and at the final note, when they have shuffled off this mortal coil, that we realize it is over all too soon, and where did the years go. I look to my past and it is but the briefest of hours in the total recital of all that has been, in the known and unknown universes… and then in that blink of an eye, it is taken away from us. For what else is our life but that briefest of time in the mind of the gods that created all we see and mostly, do not see. But know that we are connected to the soul that passed and they look kindly upon us and will be with them again.
I’m with you, Ian. Take good care.
Like others who have commented and shared the same experience as you are now going through, I can only say that my heart goes out to you. Take care.
I am with you, Ian, as are many others. Once again, the community gets what the community wants. People have to get out and vote for what they believe. Hawai’i’s citizens have a very poor voting record. If you act like sheep, you will be sheared.
As so many others have, I went through a similar experience with both my parents. I empathize, but can offer little in the way of solace. Stay strong.
Set aside your anger and frustration, sit at your father’s side, hold his hand, talk to him. Even when you think there is no one home, he is there and can probably hear you even if he can not acknowledge you. He is still there. What I did was try and paint word pictures for my father of places he loved as a young man and the friends and family that filled those times. He could not speak but he did smile.
Interesting that so many folks here made personal comments about their thoughts & experiences. I did so as well in my earlier post, but a second before I hit the Submit button, I deleted almost everything. I was concerned that my comments would seem inappropriate.
These issues do need to be discussed more thoroughly in public places.
Hi Ian:
Reading your blog and all comments really makes me sad, and I know that everyone wants to make it better for you, and really no one can.
I know you have a heart for animals and we know we would never allow our animals to experience unnecessary pain. Rick D. and I assisted you and your wife on Likelike when the two dogs (Ipo and Roxy) got loose — it was a successful end — two dogs safely returned to their home. All of us worked together, and it worked!
I lost a teenage brother and a father (two years later) to suicide and there is a big difference between “in our Maker’s time, not ours” and this. Please know that God is good. I know you know this. It’s hard to see sometimes. But, don’t forget. He’s the one we entrust our loved ones to, at least I do.
By the way, I totally support right to die legislation – a friend offered to assist her mother who suffered painfully. I know, if I were in the same place, I would do so too.
I will pray for you, your Dad and your whole family as well. God is good!