Sting’s lyrics from “If you Love Someone, Set them Free’ plays in my head as I awakened this morning. I am being challenged to set my sister free. Yesterday THE Conversation took place. The doctors stated, “We can make her comfortable.”
The sister I know is already gone even though her body is lying in a hospital bed. Technically she is still here, thanks to a ventilator.
It is our selfishness that insists the doctors “do whatever is possible” to keep her here in this realm. On the other hand, I want to dance my big sister into the next dimension.
The Wait
After all, she has released us. I know this because she has left several times over the past two days. But they have shocked her heart back into a shallow rhythm with the defibrillator. Some of the people who loved her are holding vigil around her hospital bed until they can release her.
While understandable, this ritual is not humane. In the time that we’ve had to acknowledge her impending end, we have spoken every platitude to explain the mystery of our coming and going in life to ourselves.
Holding on much too tightly
Every time someone dies we wrestle with our own mortality. It’s like, “Oh-oh that was close.” We know our life will end at some point but we cannot conceive of our end except perhaps existentially. We hope we will not suffer. But we do not see ourselves curled into that fetal position.
At the same time our rational mind questions whether the death of the loved one could have been avoided if the person had eaten better, taken their medicine, exercised more or drank less. Death makes us ask whether we are doing our part to prolong our lives?
The real truth comes from the lines of Luciano, the Rasta Man’s song that, ” Just like the wind, we come and go.”
Letting Go
My sister could see and accept her end. She chose not to follow her oncologist’s treatment recommendations until it was too late. I know this because she began to mend fences with our brothers, her children and friends in preparation for leaving.
She gave me instructions regarding her children. She was not sentimental and she did not complain. I found that she laughed a lot and she said thank you often. Breaking tradition with what has been family custom, she asked to be cremated.
I know she would not want her children or husband to fret as they work through the guilt of giving her permission to leave. Unfortunately she did not have an Advance Health Care Directive, so someone must say, “Do not revive her when she leaves again.”
What can we learn from this?
Many of us are hesitant to focus on end of life questions. Yet, communicating our medical wishes is the best gift we can give our loved ones. In life we learn how not to force our will upon others but to, more accurately, make our wishes known in a socially acceptable way. Here’s the one time when letting our loved ones know our wishes will be met with little resistance.
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Think about what types of treatments you are opposed to? Try to find out what your options are relative to in home care or a nursing home. What are my options in Palliative Care, Pain Management or Hospice Care?
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Talk to your physician to understand your end of life options.
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Identify the people you want to make decisions on your behalf.
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Complete your Advance Health Care Directive Form. Provisions may vary from state to state
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Notify the person you’ve designated to carry out your wishes?
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Advise your doctor, family, and close friends about your end-of-life preferences.
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Keep a copy of your signed advance health care directive accessible and let someone know where it is.
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Image: Dr. Joseph Valks
http://www.freedigitalphotos.net/images/view_photog.php?photogid=902
Sarah O says
My condolences for the loss of your sister. It is always so painful to lose a close family member, and how compounded by having to make those difficult decisions! It sure does remind us to get our house in order! Best of luck to your family.
boomrwiz says
Sarah
Thanks so much for your well wishes. We got through it this past weekend and there was surprisingly lots of light and laughter. In truth I am exhausted from all the good family interaction. BTW took a look at your site. I will be returning.
boomrwiz says
Janet
I so appreciate your comment and you sharing your Father’s painful release. I know you know where I am coming from. My sister’s youngest daughter held her Mom’s hand a few nights before the end and did several meditations hoping she could hear us permit her to go. One minute there is something, then there is nothing Kind of blows your mind, huh. But it also reminds me to get my house in order.
Best
Patricia
Janet Goldner says
Hi Patricia,
I’m so sorry to hear that you, your sister, your family have reached this point so soon.
This not dealing with death is part of our American denial. In Malian culture as in many traditional cultures, death is part of life. There are large funerals that involve not only the extended family but a more extended community as well. And the ways of bringing people back that you describe are largely unavailable.
My father died of a cerebral hemorrhage. He was kept on a ventilator til we could all gather. I spent about an hour with him in that state, sitting in the hospital listening to the sound of the ventilator, the assorted pings and beeps and watching the monitors. And also trying to see if talking to him, holding his hand, would cause a response. None. When the ventilator was removed, he was gone in 15 minutes. The physical change was quick and amazing. But really my father had been gone the whole time.
Thanks,
Janet