Discussion
Yes, my mum, last Febuary- I was in hospital all night with her.
She wasnt conscious. I'd driven all the way from Germany for 10 hours straight.
She was so frail and skinny, and she was whining as she tried to breath- mouth agape.
I think some people call this the death rattle.
Her eyes were flickering, and tinged in yellow due to her liver problems.
Her eyes seemed like they were sunken and her cheek bones were sticking out, she must have been down to 35 kgs
I talked to her, but doubt she knew I was there. I tried to rememeber the last time I talked to her- when she was cogniscent, must have been the week before- but I couldnt rememeber the conversation- this final stage of her illness came so fast.
A few times she stirred and it was as if she was fighting to get up to say something but I told her to relax- I sometimes wonder what she would have said and if it would have been coherent.
I told her I would be moving to America in a month. I dont know if she understood.
She died within 1 hours of my sister arriving-as if she was waiting.
These vivid images were the subject of dreams a long time after.....
The worst was going though her stuff and throwing her stuff away in the house we all grew up in-there was no time and no space.
She wasnt conscious. I'd driven all the way from Germany for 10 hours straight.
She was so frail and skinny, and she was whining as she tried to breath- mouth agape.
I think some people call this the death rattle.
Her eyes were flickering, and tinged in yellow due to her liver problems.
Her eyes seemed like they were sunken and her cheek bones were sticking out, she must have been down to 35 kgs
I talked to her, but doubt she knew I was there. I tried to rememeber the last time I talked to her- when she was cogniscent, must have been the week before- but I couldnt rememeber the conversation- this final stage of her illness came so fast.
A few times she stirred and it was as if she was fighting to get up to say something but I told her to relax- I sometimes wonder what she would have said and if it would have been coherent.
I told her I would be moving to America in a month. I dont know if she understood.
She died within 1 hours of my sister arriving-as if she was waiting.
These vivid images were the subject of dreams a long time after.....
The worst was going though her stuff and throwing her stuff away in the house we all grew up in-there was no time and no space.
Spent many weeks with my dad, my sister, my wife and my sisters partner caring from my mum as she went from quite healthy to an eventually peaceful end in 2005.
Rampant cancer raged through her despite her never being even a slight drinker and barely smoking. It moved from her liver to most of her organs and then her spine in the space of a few frightening weeks
A diamorphine driver was the only way to stop her pain reaching distressingly agonising levels and as people may know and realise, the net result of a steadily increasing dosage is a quiet, peaceful end but, (as is becoming clear seemingly always), something that is not achieved without argument and distress being caused by physicians who really don't get the meaning of words like 'no resuscitation' or 'no further treatment required'.
Her last few days were at least spent in a clean side ward with clean sheets and her family around her, as she always wanted it to be.
My dad had a complicated lymphoma that was semi- linked to increasing vascular dementia. My sister had to call in assistance from some very big medical / legal guns to get him out of a truly hellish hospital near her and back to the excellent care home (clean, modern, great staff, no pissy smell) for the last few weeks of his life.
He had become a shadow of himself after my mum died, losing some 50%+ of his body weight and having some 'incidents' that were barely disguised suicide attempts (in my opinion) during last year.
Again, we had to make sure that the no resuscitation requirements were met - almost using a restraining order to keep some over-zealous GP away but in the end, he too had a calm and really quite dignified last few days. He passed away on December 19 last year.
Watching a person die, whether their last few minutes, hours, days or months is both stressful and deeply depressing for all involved. If it's your own parents and you've had a good relationship with them it's doubly, trebly so, or at least it was for me and my wife, my sister and her partner.
When my mum died, as mentioned, she was relatively comfortable and in a clean, bright side ward even if the last hour or so was obviously just a cloud of 'nothingness' for her anyway - there were no more moments of distress at that point, just counting the increasing number of seconds between breaths before there were none.
For my dad, long weeks of increasing physical discomfort meant he had very little mobility but, as his diamorphine took final effect, he say bolt upright in one smooth movement with eyes startlingly wide and then slid back with his eyes closed as he died.
I'm told by those who've seen people die as part of their job that both these 'manners of passing' are actually quite usual.
If the OP or anybody else reading this is in a similar position, please remember a few things for your own sakes. You do not have to take everything a hospital doctor says as being 'the only thing to do' - if you or your loved one has a de facto requirement not to be treated for illness until just a ball of pain and distress, get people like the Macmillans on your side www.macmillan.org.uk and insist that you are allowed as much access as you wish and as much as possible if they are in hospital.
Also remember that, if you are doing exactly what your father or mother wanted you to do for them, keep on doing it. You will feel better for doing what you were asked to do even if you are, in effect, shepherding them to their grave.
Rampant cancer raged through her despite her never being even a slight drinker and barely smoking. It moved from her liver to most of her organs and then her spine in the space of a few frightening weeks
A diamorphine driver was the only way to stop her pain reaching distressingly agonising levels and as people may know and realise, the net result of a steadily increasing dosage is a quiet, peaceful end but, (as is becoming clear seemingly always), something that is not achieved without argument and distress being caused by physicians who really don't get the meaning of words like 'no resuscitation' or 'no further treatment required'.
Her last few days were at least spent in a clean side ward with clean sheets and her family around her, as she always wanted it to be.
My dad had a complicated lymphoma that was semi- linked to increasing vascular dementia. My sister had to call in assistance from some very big medical / legal guns to get him out of a truly hellish hospital near her and back to the excellent care home (clean, modern, great staff, no pissy smell) for the last few weeks of his life.
He had become a shadow of himself after my mum died, losing some 50%+ of his body weight and having some 'incidents' that were barely disguised suicide attempts (in my opinion) during last year.
Again, we had to make sure that the no resuscitation requirements were met - almost using a restraining order to keep some over-zealous GP away but in the end, he too had a calm and really quite dignified last few days. He passed away on December 19 last year.
Watching a person die, whether their last few minutes, hours, days or months is both stressful and deeply depressing for all involved. If it's your own parents and you've had a good relationship with them it's doubly, trebly so, or at least it was for me and my wife, my sister and her partner.
When my mum died, as mentioned, she was relatively comfortable and in a clean, bright side ward even if the last hour or so was obviously just a cloud of 'nothingness' for her anyway - there were no more moments of distress at that point, just counting the increasing number of seconds between breaths before there were none.
For my dad, long weeks of increasing physical discomfort meant he had very little mobility but, as his diamorphine took final effect, he say bolt upright in one smooth movement with eyes startlingly wide and then slid back with his eyes closed as he died.
I'm told by those who've seen people die as part of their job that both these 'manners of passing' are actually quite usual.
If the OP or anybody else reading this is in a similar position, please remember a few things for your own sakes. You do not have to take everything a hospital doctor says as being 'the only thing to do' - if you or your loved one has a de facto requirement not to be treated for illness until just a ball of pain and distress, get people like the Macmillans on your side www.macmillan.org.uk and insist that you are allowed as much access as you wish and as much as possible if they are in hospital.
Also remember that, if you are doing exactly what your father or mother wanted you to do for them, keep on doing it. You will feel better for doing what you were asked to do even if you are, in effect, shepherding them to their grave.
Yes, my Mum 5 weeks ago from cancer.
It's not like on the tv that's for sure. Very distressing death rattle as the lungs fill up with mucous due to being unable to swallow. It wasn't peaceful but my Mum was aware throughout until the last moment when she opened her eyes wide before leaving.
The most awful day of my life but I'm thankful that I could be with her to comfort her and see her on her way. It's truely a privilege to witness the passing of someone you love.
It's not like on the tv that's for sure. Very distressing death rattle as the lungs fill up with mucous due to being unable to swallow. It wasn't peaceful but my Mum was aware throughout until the last moment when she opened her eyes wide before leaving.
The most awful day of my life but I'm thankful that I could be with her to comfort her and see her on her way. It's truely a privilege to witness the passing of someone you love.
My Dad, last May. He had cancer which spread to his blood, but it was diagnosed some 4 years ago and only really took holy in the last 12 months of his life. He was 77 and still working a job at a local car parts delivery firm, bombing about in his little Transit Connect when the oral morphine wasn't sending him to sleep. He only worked a couple of days a week but if he hadn't I don't think he would have lasted those last 12 months. He actually rang me 10 days before he died, to say he was going into the local hospice (Willen Hospice in MK, possibly the most wonderful institution in the known universe imho) rather than hospital, and that his GP (an excellent practitioner, it saddens me to read the posts above where staff were less than helpful, I feel for the person who posted that) didn't seem confident. I went down to see him and he slipped away under a morphine driver, much like the posts above. The last 2 days were, frankly, terrible. He managed to hang in in various states of consciousness until all his family had come and seen him and said goodbye, then that night said to the nurse who was administering his morphine driver "I've had enough". From then on he was unconscious, and when we left the following night he passed half an hour later. I'm convinced that was his decision, however silly that may sound. I just know he didn't want to go in front of us, and I don't feel I missed anything by not seeing it.
For what it's worth, the last 2 days were the only horrible ones really, and were only tough for me because I knew he didn't want to be there in so much pain, and I just wanted him to be at peace. I've never been more anxious or stressed in my life, but once it was all over and we had had the funeral, it felt so much better to know he wasn't in pain any more. We had talked about the whole thing about 6 months before the event, and I viewed it the same as Dad. Nobody can live forever, it's a shame to pass but it's an inevitability of life, and he didn't want our family to be too depressed. I wrote a piece for the funeral which said "... while he may be gone to our eyes, he will never be gone from our hearts, and that's the most important thing". He's buried in the local green burial place where you have a tree instead of a headstone. We chose Crab Apple, because we used to go and pick crab apples as kids with him and make jam
For what it's worth, the last 2 days were the only horrible ones really, and were only tough for me because I knew he didn't want to be there in so much pain, and I just wanted him to be at peace. I've never been more anxious or stressed in my life, but once it was all over and we had had the funeral, it felt so much better to know he wasn't in pain any more. We had talked about the whole thing about 6 months before the event, and I viewed it the same as Dad. Nobody can live forever, it's a shame to pass but it's an inevitability of life, and he didn't want our family to be too depressed. I wrote a piece for the funeral which said "... while he may be gone to our eyes, he will never be gone from our hearts, and that's the most important thing". He's buried in the local green burial place where you have a tree instead of a headstone. We chose Crab Apple, because we used to go and pick crab apples as kids with him and make jam
Graebob said:
He's buried in the local green burial place where you have a tree instead of a headstone. We chose Crab Apple, because we used to go and pick crab apples as kids with him and make jam
What a beautiful thing to do - I wanted to make sure that mine had a spot in our village graveyard which is a really picturesque place but this is a wonderful idea. Having said that my mum and dad told me last week that they wanted to leave their body to medical science...DC
not as yet, I must say I am very touched by your stories & I'm sorry for your losses
I am trying to understand how hard it must be, trying, but will never understand until it happens, of that I'm very aware
We emigrated last year & we have not seen our folks for 6 months but are returning to see them for a few days this week, having read this I will be soaking up every minute with them with plenty of hugs in between.
Thanks
I am trying to understand how hard it must be, trying, but will never understand until it happens, of that I'm very aware
We emigrated last year & we have not seen our folks for 6 months but are returning to see them for a few days this week, having read this I will be soaking up every minute with them with plenty of hugs in between.
Thanks
Yes, my dad. He was diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumour in Feb 03 and died at the end of August the same year. He would have gone a lot faster if it hadn't been for the radiotherapy treatments which, I suppose, gave him the time he needed to say all the things he hadn't said to his family over the last 40 years.
When his pain was really bad I was the only one who could calm him down, which sometimes meant getting out of my bed at 3am, going to my parents house, spending time getting him back to sleep and then going home again.
In the later stages of his illness he was admitted to hospital, but they didn't have the time or the resources to give palliative care to someone with a terminal illness. We were able to get him moved to the Prince and Princess of Wales Hospice for his last few days and the care there was brilliant. He ended his life quietly, without pain and with his family by his side.
When his pain was really bad I was the only one who could calm him down, which sometimes meant getting out of my bed at 3am, going to my parents house, spending time getting him back to sleep and then going home again.
In the later stages of his illness he was admitted to hospital, but they didn't have the time or the resources to give palliative care to someone with a terminal illness. We were able to get him moved to the Prince and Princess of Wales Hospice for his last few days and the care there was brilliant. He ended his life quietly, without pain and with his family by his side.
My Dad and best friend both died within two days of each other and their funerals were two days apart. I wasn't there when they died. No one was. This is one of my deepest regrets. Could I have done anythng? Probably not in the case of my Dad. He had heart disease and died of a massive heart attack. He had had a double bypass eight years earlier and we knew the big one was in the post. We just didn't know when it would arrive. My friend died in the most pointess banal way. Came home from the pub. Wanted to make chips. Fell asleep.
I've always felt that death really isn't the concern of the person who dies. Dying is, but thats different, if you see what I mean. One's death is for those left behind to cope with. I feel that it is vitally important to get the funeral right. It doesn't have to be a massive extravagent affair but it does have to reflect the person who has died. You do have to grieve but you must also celebrate their life.
Let me tell you a story. When my friend's father died my Dad and brother attended the funeral. Now this man was a big drinker, occasionally slapped his wife and she was divorcing him when he died. The clergyman's eulogy described him as a wonderful family man, pillar of the community etc. I know sensitivities have to be protected but honesty is important too. My Dad wanted to go and open the coffin to see if it really was my Friend's Dad in there. He thought he was at the wrong funeral. My Dad was a lifelong atheist and, after that, always said he didn't want any clergymen near him when his time came.
Well, come it did and we respected his wishes. He had a humanist funeral conducted by a wonderful lady who visited us and spent a long time learning about my Dad. The good, the bad, the funny, the sad. The servce was magnificent. She told my Dad's life story. It was utterly moving, yet at times the whole congregation were rolling with laughter when she related the daft things he had done. He rolled down the conveyor with Frank Sinatra's 'Thats Life' playing - it was his favourte song.
My friend's funeral couldn't have been more different. It was a 'council' affair, cold, impersonal and undignified - like a production line. We stood outside while another group of mourners watched their loved one go down the line. Smoke billowed from the crematorium chimney and ashes fell on the mourners outside. I remember thinking as I brushed the ashes from my sleeve "who is this?". The service took 20 minutes, read from a script about a God that few of us cared about. My friend's name was mentioned once. As we departed through one door, the next group was being ushered in through another. I was left feeling not sad, but angry. Thats not how you're supposed to feel.
I've always felt that death really isn't the concern of the person who dies. Dying is, but thats different, if you see what I mean. One's death is for those left behind to cope with. I feel that it is vitally important to get the funeral right. It doesn't have to be a massive extravagent affair but it does have to reflect the person who has died. You do have to grieve but you must also celebrate their life.
Let me tell you a story. When my friend's father died my Dad and brother attended the funeral. Now this man was a big drinker, occasionally slapped his wife and she was divorcing him when he died. The clergyman's eulogy described him as a wonderful family man, pillar of the community etc. I know sensitivities have to be protected but honesty is important too. My Dad wanted to go and open the coffin to see if it really was my Friend's Dad in there. He thought he was at the wrong funeral. My Dad was a lifelong atheist and, after that, always said he didn't want any clergymen near him when his time came.
Well, come it did and we respected his wishes. He had a humanist funeral conducted by a wonderful lady who visited us and spent a long time learning about my Dad. The good, the bad, the funny, the sad. The servce was magnificent. She told my Dad's life story. It was utterly moving, yet at times the whole congregation were rolling with laughter when she related the daft things he had done. He rolled down the conveyor with Frank Sinatra's 'Thats Life' playing - it was his favourte song.
My friend's funeral couldn't have been more different. It was a 'council' affair, cold, impersonal and undignified - like a production line. We stood outside while another group of mourners watched their loved one go down the line. Smoke billowed from the crematorium chimney and ashes fell on the mourners outside. I remember thinking as I brushed the ashes from my sleeve "who is this?". The service took 20 minutes, read from a script about a God that few of us cared about. My friend's name was mentioned once. As we departed through one door, the next group was being ushered in through another. I was left feeling not sad, but angry. Thats not how you're supposed to feel.
Edited by BruceV8 on Sunday 25th January 10:58
Edited by BruceV8 on Sunday 25th January 11:01
rolex said:
I guess this is taboo subject but fact of life i guess? Anyone watched a close one die in hospital?
Yes. Twice. Both my grandfathers. Both tall, imposing, domineering men when alive, but absolute shells when I was sitting there alone in their final moments. Interestingly, one of my grandfathers was one of six brothers, who all went to fight in the Second World War (both G-F's fought, but in different theatres). They all came back, which became a bit of a news story. And as much as I used to quiz him on the War as a kid, he never gave much up. Would have liked to have spent more time with the pair of them, but yes, that is life.
If you have a chance read 'On death and dying'by Elizabeth Kubler-Ross. A bit deep and detailed and 30 years old now but gives great insight to the process of dying itself and of grief. I bought my daughter a copy when she went off to uni to become a doctor in the hoope she could understand better the needs of patients and relatives in her job.
Brown and Boris said:
If you have a chance read 'On death and dying'by Elizabeth Kubler-Ross. A bit deep and detailed and 30 years old now but gives great insight to the process of dying itself and of grief. I bought my daughter a copy when she went off to uni to become a doctor in the hoope she could understand better the needs of patients and relatives in her job.
Further to that I'd say to those who know someone who's grieving. Ask them how they're getting on. They might get upset but they'll be glad to hear that someone cares and is thinking of them. Quite a few people I know just totally avoid the subject. I think they just don't know what to say.
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