Anonymous wrote:I was with my mom when she died at 90. She had been diagnosed with cancer three months earlier. She was mostly lucid and relatively normal, although not leaving her bedroom much, most of the three months. Two days before she died she was sitting up on the side of her bed opening her Christmas presents and talking to her kids and grandkids. She didn't have much appetite but she did eat.
The next day she never really fully woke up. She wasn't unconscious, she was sleeping restlessly. She seemed to be uncomfortable so we gave her morphine on her gums every few hours (per hospice.) We played music and talked to her and held her hand. She had an expressed fear of dying alone so we definitely stayed with her, meaning me and my siblings.
Day two of not really being awake or alert was a little worse so we increased the morphine to about every hour. She died that night about 11. We were there with her when she died. I am very glad for that. It was kind of hard but also somehow comforting for us. She was never in a lot of pain but definitely some. She had the breathing rattle the last few hours. So, that's what it was like.
Anonymous wrote:When people say they said their goodbyes, do they mean that literally? Does the dying person know they’re dying and is it mutually acknowledged? Or do folks just say I love you and show appreciation? With Covid you hear people say they had to say goodbye on FaceTime. Are they saying goodbye or wishing them to get better and saying I love you, even though the person may be dying?
Anonymous wrote:Anonymous wrote:Anonymous wrote:Anonymous wrote:Anonymous wrote:Decreased eating, weakness, labored breathing.
This. Breathing was very strange and scary. Colder to the touch. Lots of sleeping. Hospice spoke with us a lot including a social worker.
This. Labored breathing, poor circulation. Having a few days of that, then one good day where you think they might pull through, then two more bad days, then gone.
A deep turning inwards, sleeping deeply and hard or impossible to wake them up. Focused on the journey ahead, detatched from the present.
Slipping away peacefully if they are left alone for a short time, or in the night. I think some people need solitude.
This is such an important point. I read a lot about death toward the end and there seems to be the common lore that you are supposed to hold vigil by their bedside until the end. Many experts say that is often more for YOU than for them. So many people finally pass when given peace to be on their own. They even found among those families where they were determined to have someone their 24-7 and they took turns for hours on end, it wasn't until someone left for the bathroom or got a drink of water, the person passed. In fact, sometimes when the holding vigil goes on for weeks on end, a kind medical professional will suggest you give the loved one a break for an hour so if they are ready, they can pass and sure enough they do.
I think it's good to do final visits and if it helps you spiritually to be there for the last breath than so be it, but what is wrong is the families that guilt trip people into being there for 8 hour stretches when in reality you may be making the loved one uncomfortable. This whole "nobody should die alone" should really mean, try to visit and say your goodbyes, show you love and let them be at peace with letting go. It does not mean drop everything and be there every second. If you were fully living and not about to pass would you want your family there every second of every day with no break?
Anonymous wrote:Anonymous wrote:Anonymous wrote:Anonymous wrote:Decreased eating, weakness, labored breathing.
This. Breathing was very strange and scary. Colder to the touch. Lots of sleeping. Hospice spoke with us a lot including a social worker.
This. Labored breathing, poor circulation. Having a few days of that, then one good day where you think they might pull through, then two more bad days, then gone.
A deep turning inwards, sleeping deeply and hard or impossible to wake them up. Focused on the journey ahead, detatched from the present.
Slipping away peacefully if they are left alone for a short time, or in the night. I think some people need solitude.
Anonymous wrote:Anonymous wrote:Anonymous wrote:Decreased eating, weakness, labored breathing.
This. Breathing was very strange and scary. Colder to the touch. Lots of sleeping. Hospice spoke with us a lot including a social worker.
This. Labored breathing, poor circulation. Having a few days of that, then one good day where you think they might pull through, then two more bad days, then gone.
A deep turning inwards, sleeping deeply and hard or impossible to wake them up. Focused on the journey ahead, detatched from the present.
Slipping away peacefully if they are left alone for a short time, or in the night. I think some people need solitude.