So much of what you write here rings true for me. My mother, who had advanced Parkinson's (and, as we later discovered, Lewy Body dementia and Alzheimer's) broke her hip at the end of January 2018, three weeks before her 90th birthday. My husband and kids and I were flying from our home in western Canada to Milwaukee for her birthday. My sister was certain that Mom was going to die the day she broke her hip, but after a few days the hospice nurse said I didn't need to fly down there, it was apparent she wasn't going to die right away. My family and I flew to Milwaukee a couple of days before her birthday, which was on a Sunday. We flew home that Tuesday. Mom died the following Sunday, exactly a week after her 90th. I really believe she was hanging on for our visit. My mother-in-law went into hospice earlier this year, the last day of January. She had advanced Alzheimer's. My husband and I visited her pretty much every day, but my father-in-law was very reluctant. She'd been there for a week before he went for a visit. It was a Tuesday. The following Monday some cousins went to visit and sang her show tunes one afternoon. My husband and I went at night with a friend who brought his banjo, and I had my guitar and another friend was massaging moisturizer into my mother-in-law's very crepey skin. The next afternoon, shortly before 5, the hospice nurse called to say my MIL was dying. It took a half hour to reach my husband, get to the hospice, get the stupid parking meter to work, and get upstairs to her room. She died three minutes before we arrived. Her father had done the same thing 14 years earlier: she and my FIL had gone to see him at the hospital. He'd fallen and had hit his head, so he wasn't conscious, but they visited him and then went down to the cafeteria and by the time they returned to the room, he'd died. My mother, on the other hand, did not want to be alone when she died; she'd told my sister as much, and my sister was with her. So interesting....
Well, you certainly have a lot of experience on which to draw. Too bad we can't interview all these people and ask what was in their minds or their hearts. Thanks so much for your detailed informatrion.
My MIL was in a hospital for three weeks before she was moved to the hospice (and before that she'd been in care homes for more than two years). The hospice was, in my opinion, the nicest place—so calm and peaceful. I'm still trying to figure out what made the atmosphere there so (for lack of a better word) inviting. Was it that this is the last place people will be before they die, so there's none of the urgent "must produce, must work, must accomplish, must do-do-do" energy that seems to permeate everything else in our lives? What do you think, Ann?
I think you're right about that. I worked in a hospice as a volunteer for four years and subsequently wrote a book, based on interviews with hospice staff, about what they do, why they like it and its impact on their lives. Called Life in a Hospice: Reflections on caring for the dying, you might like to read it. It was written nearly twenty years ago but it still resonates with people. getbook.at/Hospice
I worked in a Nursing home passing medications for 20 years and witnessed many deaths and it's fascinating. I have seen many touching moments and some that were cold and void. But death I come to realize is not the worst thing to happen and lingering and suffering is devastating and soul crushing. I feel that being beside the dying is as important and needed as when a new life is born. I feel satisfied knowing that although I could not save them or heal them I can make that last part of their journey less lonely and more peaceful and it's a blessing to do that and I miss it.
You might like my book on hospice care. It is all about the many ways different people are beside the dying. Indeed, several people made the analogy with being a midwife.
Interesting, I should have replied earlier. Did your husband say this accorded with his experience? He presumably had seen a lot of deaths in the course of his work.
Of course, I can't know why he liked it, but if it was the sex discussion, I can add that my father told me that his geriatrician thought that his new relationship, at age 90, was excellent for his health!
Oh dear, I think I was replying to this on my phone where everything seems jumbled. Now that I see these comments, it is clear which one he was talking about.
My grandfather kept himself alive well past the doctors wildest dreams because he would not die before seeing his son. He literally died immediately after holding his son's hand and uttering ' I love you don't.
Dr Peter Gariaev's work on the ' wave genome' sent me down this path-
So much of what you write here rings true for me. My mother, who had advanced Parkinson's (and, as we later discovered, Lewy Body dementia and Alzheimer's) broke her hip at the end of January 2018, three weeks before her 90th birthday. My husband and kids and I were flying from our home in western Canada to Milwaukee for her birthday. My sister was certain that Mom was going to die the day she broke her hip, but after a few days the hospice nurse said I didn't need to fly down there, it was apparent she wasn't going to die right away. My family and I flew to Milwaukee a couple of days before her birthday, which was on a Sunday. We flew home that Tuesday. Mom died the following Sunday, exactly a week after her 90th. I really believe she was hanging on for our visit. My mother-in-law went into hospice earlier this year, the last day of January. She had advanced Alzheimer's. My husband and I visited her pretty much every day, but my father-in-law was very reluctant. She'd been there for a week before he went for a visit. It was a Tuesday. The following Monday some cousins went to visit and sang her show tunes one afternoon. My husband and I went at night with a friend who brought his banjo, and I had my guitar and another friend was massaging moisturizer into my mother-in-law's very crepey skin. The next afternoon, shortly before 5, the hospice nurse called to say my MIL was dying. It took a half hour to reach my husband, get to the hospice, get the stupid parking meter to work, and get upstairs to her room. She died three minutes before we arrived. Her father had done the same thing 14 years earlier: she and my FIL had gone to see him at the hospital. He'd fallen and had hit his head, so he wasn't conscious, but they visited him and then went down to the cafeteria and by the time they returned to the room, he'd died. My mother, on the other hand, did not want to be alone when she died; she'd told my sister as much, and my sister was with her. So interesting....
Well, you certainly have a lot of experience on which to draw. Too bad we can't interview all these people and ask what was in their minds or their hearts. Thanks so much for your detailed informatrion.
My MIL was in a hospital for three weeks before she was moved to the hospice (and before that she'd been in care homes for more than two years). The hospice was, in my opinion, the nicest place—so calm and peaceful. I'm still trying to figure out what made the atmosphere there so (for lack of a better word) inviting. Was it that this is the last place people will be before they die, so there's none of the urgent "must produce, must work, must accomplish, must do-do-do" energy that seems to permeate everything else in our lives? What do you think, Ann?
I think you're right about that. I worked in a hospice as a volunteer for four years and subsequently wrote a book, based on interviews with hospice staff, about what they do, why they like it and its impact on their lives. Called Life in a Hospice: Reflections on caring for the dying, you might like to read it. It was written nearly twenty years ago but it still resonates with people. getbook.at/Hospice
Thanks. I will check that out.
I worked in a Nursing home passing medications for 20 years and witnessed many deaths and it's fascinating. I have seen many touching moments and some that were cold and void. But death I come to realize is not the worst thing to happen and lingering and suffering is devastating and soul crushing. I feel that being beside the dying is as important and needed as when a new life is born. I feel satisfied knowing that although I could not save them or heal them I can make that last part of their journey less lonely and more peaceful and it's a blessing to do that and I miss it.
You might like my book on hospice care. It is all about the many ways different people are beside the dying. Indeed, several people made the analogy with being a midwife.
Thank you I will
Ann, my husband Sam Harrington (retired physician) especially liked this post. For anyone reading. don’t miss this Q&A with Ann! https://debbieweil.substack.com/p/on-savoring-old-age-writing-and-sex
Interesting, I should have replied earlier. Did your husband say this accorded with his experience? He presumably had seen a lot of deaths in the course of his work.
Of course, I can't know why he liked it, but if it was the sex discussion, I can add that my father told me that his geriatrician thought that his new relationship, at age 90, was excellent for his health!
Oh dear, I think I was replying to this on my phone where everything seems jumbled. Now that I see these comments, it is clear which one he was talking about.
Captivating piece, thank you!
Great read. Thankyou.
My grandfather kept himself alive well past the doctors wildest dreams because he would not die before seeing his son. He literally died immediately after holding his son's hand and uttering ' I love you don't.
Dr Peter Gariaev's work on the ' wave genome' sent me down this path-
https://justindaws.substack.com/p/belief-belies-belief
He said ' I love you' not ' I love you don't.
So many examples of the same thing. Interestinger and interestinger.