Category: Death Education

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What Our Cells Teach Us About a ‘Natural’ Death

Effigies in Scotland from the 17th century, when death was simpler.

By Haider Javed Warraich

[E]very Thursday morning on the heart transplant service, our medical team would get a front-row seat to witness an epic battle raging under a microscope. Tiny pieces of heart tissue taken from patients with newly transplanted hearts would be broadcast onto a gigantic screen, showing static images of pink heart cells being attacked by varying amounts of blue immune cells. The more blue cells there were, the more voraciously they were chomping away the pink cells, the more evidence that the patient’s inherently xenophobic immune system was rejecting the foreign, transplanted heart.

There was so much beauty to be found in the infinitesimal push and pull between life and death those slides depicted that I would fantasize about having them framed and put up in my house. Yet the more I studied those cells, the more I realized that they might have the answers to one of the most difficult subjects of our time.

Throughout our history, particularly recently, the human race has looked far and wide to answer a complex question — what is a good death? With so many life-sustaining technologies now able to keep us alive almost indefinitely, many believe that a “natural” death is a good one. With technology now invading almost every aspect of our lives, the desire for a natural death experience mirrors trends noted in how we wish to experience birth, travel and food these days.

When we picture a natural death, we conjure a man or woman lying in bed at home surrounded by loved ones. Taking one’s last breath in one’s own bed, a sight ubiquitous in literature, was the modus operandi for death in ancient times. In the book “Western Attitudes Toward Death,” Philippe Ariès wrote that the deathbed scene was “organized by the dying person himself, who presided over it and knew its protocol” and that it was a public ceremony at which “it was essential that parents, friends and neighbors be present.” While such resplendent representations of death continue to be pervasive in both modern literature and pop culture, they are mostly fiction at best.

This vision of a natural death, however, is limited since it represents how we used to die before the development of modern resuscitative technologies and is merely a reflection of the social and scientific context of the time that death took place in. The desire for “natural” in almost every aspect of modern life represents a revolt against technology — when people say they want a natural death, they are alluding to the end’s being as technology-free as possible. Physicians too use this vocabulary, and frequently when they want to intimate to a family that more medical treatment may be futile, they encourage families to “let nature take its course.”

Yet, defining death by how medically involved it is might be shortsighted. The reason there are no life-sustaining devices in our romantic musings of death is that there just weren’t any available. Furthermore, our narratives of medical technology are derived largely from the outcomes they achieve. When death is unexpectedly averted through the use of drugs, devices or procedures, technology is considered miraculous; when death occurs regardless, its application is considered undignified. Therefore, defining a natural death is important because it forms the basis of what most people will thus consider a good death.

Perhaps we need to observe something even more elemental to understand what death is like when it is stripped bare of social context. Perhaps the answer to what can be considered a truly natural death can be found in the very cells that form the building blocks of all living things, humans included.

Though we have known for more than a century how cells are created, it is only recently that we have discovered how they die. Cells die via three main mechanisms. The ugliest and least elegant form of cell death is necrosis, in which because of either a lack of food or some other toxic injury, cells burst open, releasing their contents into the serums. Necrosis, which occurs in a transplanted heart undergoing rejection, causes a very powerful activation of the body’s immune system. Necrosis, then, is the cellular version of a “bad death.”

The second form of cell death is autophagy, in which the cell turns on itself, changing its defective or redundant components into nutrients, which can be used by other cells. This form of cell death occurs when food supply is limited but not entirely cut off, such as in heart failure.

The most sophisticated form of cell death, however, is unlike the other two types. Apoptosis, a Greek word used to describe falling leaves, is a programmed form of cell death. When a cell becomes old or disrepair sets in, it is nudged, usually by signaling molecules, to undergo a form of controlled self-demolition. Unlike in necrosis, the cell doesn’t burst, doesn’t tax the immune system, but quietly dissolves. Apoptosis is the reason our bone marrow doesn’t weigh two tons or our intestines don’t grow indefinitely.

As important as apoptosis is to death, it is essential for life. While as humans, we often consciously or unconsciously hope to achieve immortality, immortality has a very real existence in the cellular world — it’s called cancer. In fact, most cancers occur because of defects in apoptosis, and most novel cancer therapies are designed to allow cell death to occur as it normally would.

In many ways, therefore, life and death at a cellular level are much more socially conscious than how we interface with these phenomena at a human level. For cells, what is good for the organism is best for the cell. Even though cells are designed entirely to survive, an appropriate death is central to the survival of the organism, which itself has to die in a similar fashion for the sake of the society and ecosystem it inhabits.

We humans spend much of our lives denying death. Death, however, is not the enemy. If there is an enemy, it is the fear that death arouses. The fear of death often induces us to make choices that defy the biological constraints of our existence. Such choices often lead us to a fate that more closely resembles necrosis, involving the futile activation of innumerable resources eventually resulting in a cataclysmic outcome, rather than apoptosis. Furthermore, even as we hope to defy our mortality, our cells show the devastation that can occur for the organism if even one cell among billions achieves immortality.

When I asked Robert Horvitz, the Nobel Prize-winning biologist at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology who was part of the group that discovered apoptosis, what lessons we could learn from cell death, his answer demonstrated exactly why we have failed to understand death in the context of our lives: “Only once before has someone approached me to discuss the existential questions that might relate what is known about cell death to human existence.”

The question for us, then, is: What is the human equivalent of apoptosis in the context of our society? One way to approach that question is to look at what the human equivalent of necrosis is. To me, if a human being is in the hospital with intensive, life-sustaining therapies such as artificial respiration, nutrition or dialysis sustaining them with little hope of recovering reasonable brain function, such a state could be considered necrosis. Almost any other alternative, whether one dies in the hospital having rescinded resuscitation or intubation (DNR/DNI), at home with hospice services or with the aid of a physician’s prescription, has much more in common with apoptosis.

We have striven endlessly to answer some of our most crucial questions, yet somehow we haven’t tried to find them in the basic machinery of our biology. Apoptosis represents a pure vision of death as it occurs in nature, and that vision is something we might aspire to in our own deaths: A cell never dies in isolation, but in clear view of its peers; it rarely dies of its own volition; a greater force that is in touch with the larger organism understands when a cell is more likely to harm itself and those around it by carrying on. Apoptosis represents the ultimate paradox — for the organism to survive, the cells must die, and they must die well. “There are many disorders in which there is too little apoptotic death,” Dr. Horvitz said, “and in those cases it is activating apoptosis that could increase longevity.”

And finally, a cell also understands better than we humans do the consequences of outlasting one’s welcome. For though humanity aspires to achieve immortality, our cells teach us that a life without death is the most unnatural fate of all.

Complete Article HERE!

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Nursing my dying mother made me determined that everyone should have a ‘good’ death

By Adrienne Betteley

[W]hen my mum Joan died of oesophageal cancer in 2014, she was in the place she wanted to spend her last days – the spare bedroom at home – with me and my dad, Cliff, by her side.

I’d spent the last week in a camp bed next to Mum, wiping her lips and mopping her forehead as we shared memories.

On the night she died, she put her arm around me and said “Adrienne, I have to thank you for being the most wonderful daughter.” Afterwards, our district nurse made my dad a whisky and me a cup of tea as we said our final goodbyes.

Not without serious difficulty

Mum had a ‘good death’, but not without serious difficulties at times. I can’t help thinking it was my background as a district nurse that allowed her to die at home with her family. My experience meant I was listened to, and I pushed for her to get what she needed, such as acupuncture at the local hospice to relieve her crippling pain from arthritis. I knew what to expect and what conversations to have. We had early discussions about how she wanted to die (at home, not in hospital) and where (not next to Dad in their bed), which we call Advance Care Planning in the medical profession. At Macmillan, we believe that more needs to be done to ensure people are planning for their deaths, so their wishes – such as where they die – can be met.

Sadly, a death like my mum’s is denied to so many in this country. And I believe it would have been impossible for her too, had she not happened to have a nurse for a daughter. I had to fight to get her the care she desperately needed. Services are depleted, especially out of hours. You can’t choose when advanced cancer will cause you pain, but getting pain-relief at night or on weekends can be impossible. In her final days, there was no availability for a night sitter. Thankfully, I could be by her bedside, but had I not been, I’m convinced she would have died in hospital against her wishes.

Findings published in the British Medical Journal last week help explain why some people aren’t getting enough support when they are dying. Care for dying people varies hugely across different regions, both in how much money services are allocated and what care they offer. Figures suggested that, in most parts of the country, there are no specialist pain control teams, and, where they are in place, most operate only in normal working hours with no cover overnight. Until you’ve had a loved one in pain, with no way of providing them relief, it’s hard to appreciate the urgency of this situation.

Having a choice

Pain relief is the very least we should expect at the end of our lives. But it’s also important that, where possible, patients can die in a place of their choosing. We know that most people with advanced cancer would prefer to die at home, but not many of them actually do. Without round-the-clock community nursing, it’s hard to see how this will improve.

My days as a district nurse taught me that getting things right for people at the end of their life takes time. Decisions made about treatment affect how that person will spend their last months, weeks, hours, in this world. But time is something our overstretched workforce doesn’t have. Last month came another heart-breaking revelation – that over two thirds of nurses ‘don’t have time’ to care for dying patients. Is this really what we’ve come to? Something has to change.

Painless death must be priority

I know what a good death looks like, and that it is achievable. But to give everyone a chance to die without pain, and in the place they want to, care for dying people needs to be a priority across the country. As the NHS and local councils set out their plans to transform healthcare, it’s vitally important that they take into account how they will care for people at the end of their lives. At Macmillan, we’ll be monitoring these plans closely to make sure they do.

Those last few weeks with my mum were exhausting, but they were special and irreplaceable. Helping her in her final days with the people she loved, in the house she knew, was the most meaningful thing I’ve ever done. Caring how people die isn’t just about death, but about the value we place on life.

Complete Article HERE!

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New research identifies a ‘sea of despair’ among white, working-class Americans

Princeton economists Angus Deaton and Anne Case continue to report on sickness and early death among white, middle-aged, working-class Americans.

By Joel Achenbach and Dan Keating

Sickness and early death in the white working class could be rooted in poor job prospects for less-educated young people as they first enter the labor market, a situation that compounds over time through family dysfunction, social isolation, addiction, obesity and other pathologies, according to a study published Thursday by two prominent economists.

Anne Case and Angus Deaton garnered national headlines in 2015 when they reported that the death rate of midlife non-Hispanic white Americans had risen steadily since 1999 in contrast with the death rates of blacks, Hispanics and Europeans. Their new study extends the data by two years and shows that whatever is driving the mortality spike is not easing up.

VIDEO: Here’s what you need to know about the life expectancy drop

The two Princeton professors say the trend affects whites of both sexes and is happening nearly everywhere in the country. Education level is significant: People with a college degree report better health and happiness than those with only some college, who in turn are doing much better than those who never went.

Offering what they call a tentative but “plausible” explanation, they write that less-educated white Americans who struggle in the job market in early adulthood are likely to experience a “cumulative disadvantage” over time, with health and personal problems that often lead to drug overdoses, alcohol-related liver disease and suicide.

“Ultimately, we see our story as about the collapse of the white, high-school-educated working class after its heyday in the early 1970s, and the pathologies that accompany that decline,” they conclude.

The study comes as Congress debates how to dismantle parts of the Affordable Care Act. Case and Deaton report that poor health is becoming more common for each new generation of middle-aged, less-educated white Americans. And they are going downhill faster.

In a teleconference with reporters this week, Case said the new research found a “sea of despair” across America. A striking feature is the rise in physical pain. The pattern does not follow short-term economic cycles but reflects a long-term disintegration of job prospects.

“You used to be able to get a really good job with a high school diploma. A job with on-the-job training, a job with benefits. You could expect to move up,” she said.

The nation’s obesity epidemic may be another sign of stress and physical pain, she continued: “People may want to soothe the beast. They may do that with alcohol, they may do that with drugs, they may do that with food.”

Similarly, Deaton cited suicide as an action that could be triggered not by a single event but by a cumulative series of disappointments: “Your family life has fallen apart, you don’t know your kids anymore, all the things you expected when you started out your life just haven’t happened at all.”

The economists say that there is no obvious solution but that a starting point would be limiting the overuse of opioids, which killed more than 30,000 Americans in 2015.

The two will present their study on Friday at the Brookings Institution.

“Their paper documents some facts. What is the story behind those facts is a matter of speculation,” said Adriana Lleras-Muney, a University of California at Los Angeles economics professor, who will also speak at Brookings.

She noted that less-educated white Americans tend to be strikingly pessimistic when interviewed about their prospects.

“It’s just a background of continuous decline. You’re worse off than your parents,” Lleras-Muney said. “Whereas for Hispanics, or immigrants like myself” — she is from Colombia — “or blacks, yes, circumstances are bad, but they’ve been getting better.”

David Cutler, an economics professor at Harvard who also will be discussing the paper at Brookings, said the declining health of white, working-class Americans suggests that Republican plans to replace the Affordable Care Act are akin to bleeding a sick patient. As he put it, “Treat the fever by causing an even bigger fever.”

Whites continue to have longer life expectancy than African Americans and lower death rates, but that gap has narrowed since the late 1990s. The picture may have shifted again around the Great Recession, however: Graphs accompanying the new paper suggest that death rates for blacks with only a high school education began rising around 2010 in many age groups, as if following the trend that began about a decade earlier among whites.

White men continue to die at higher rates than white women in every age group. But because women started with lower death rates, the recent mortality increase reflects a greater change in their likelihood of dying early. The numbers reported by Case and Deaton suggest that white men today are about twice as likely as they were in 1999 to die from one of the “diseases of despair,” while women are about four times as likely.

Case and Deaton play down geography as a factor in the epidemic. Yet they note that white mortality rates fell in the biggest cities, were constant in big-city suburbs and rose in all other areas. The Washington Post’s analysis published last year highlighted the same geographical signature, with a break in death rates between the two most urban classifications (big cities and big-city suburbs) and the four less urban classifications, which The Post described as an urban-rural divide.

Last week, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention published a report on U.S. suicides by level of urbanization between 1999 and 2015, a period in which 600,000 Americans took their own lives. The report showed rising rates in each of the six urbanization classifications but found “a geographic disparity” in which rates increased as urbanization decreased. That urban-rural divide appears to have widened, particularly in recent years, the CDC reported.

Complete Article HERE!

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I went to a death cafe to learn how to talk to dying patients

Medical students do not learn how to talk about death. Junior doctors are forced to learn on the job – and that isn’t fair on patients or families

‘Death cafes aren’t a solution to lack of teaching, but all medical students should attend one.’

By Isabella Laws

[I]t is taboo in British culture to talk about death. We say someone has “passed away”, “kicked the bucket” or “left us” – anything to avoid even using the word. This has consequences. While 70% of people wish to die at home, half of us will actually die in hospital. Our reluctance to talk about death and make our wishes known is part of the reason for this.

So I didn’t expect to enjoy visiting a death cafe. As soon as I arrived, I knew I had made the right decision, however. The room hummed with a low level of chatter, and I felt prepared to practise talking about death and dying.

On that particular morning there were six of us in the cafe: two academic psychologists, a woman who had lost her husband in her early 30s, a grief counsellor and a man who had had a near-death experience. There was also a group leader, although the conversation was completely unstructured save for initial introductions – and the proviso that everything we discussed must be about death.

Death cafes were founded in the UK in 2011, inspired by a Swiss model, and the aim is simple: to increase awareness and openness about death with a view to helping people make the most of their (finite) lives. There are now more than 4,000 cafes held around the UK, Europe and north America.

After the death cafe, I couldn’t believe that I had spent two hours talking exclusively about dying. It was satisfying to talk to others who were honest about their experiences and fears. Nearly everyone regretted not speaking more frankly about it with their parents before they died. They also worried about raising the topic with their children: who should raise it? When is the right time? What if they shut the conversation down? One woman asked the group what kind of legacy we each wanted to leave behind. She worried that she had not been close to her family and they would not remember her in the way she wanted when she dies.

I was by far the youngest person there. This is unsurprising – people in their 20s don’t often think about death. I went because there is a fundamental lack of teaching at medical school to prepare you for the fact that this is something I will have to deal with every day as a doctor. In six years of study, I will have had just one small group session on “breaking bad news”. Yet as soon as I am qualified, I will be expected to talk about death and dying to patients and their loved ones on a daily basis. Last year, I saw a doctor only months out of medical school comfort a woman after her husband’s death. The same would be expected of me in just over a year’s time – and I was not ready.

In 2000, an average of 20 hours (pdf) were dedicated to palliative care teaching at medical school. I certainly haven’t experienced any increase on that figure, 17 years later.

I have witnessed good practice during my training, but there have also been times when I wished I wasn’t in the room. Last year, while sitting in on a neurology clinic, I watched as a patient was told they had motor neurone disease. Their face went blank and pale with shock, but the doctor seemed oblivious and launched into a monologue about the patient’s treatment options and prognosis. I sat in the corner of the room, powerless to intervene. Without teaching doctors effective communication skills as students, how can we be expected to fare any better?

A survey of junior doctors by the Royal College of Physicians of Edinburgh in 2013 found that only half felt prepared for communicating with dying patients and their families. This figure rose to 70% for their clinical trainers.

This lack of teaching lets down not just students, but patients too. A lack of guidance means junior doctors are forced to learn on the job. Undoubtedly, they will improve in time. The patients and families who experience unsatisfactory or even upsetting communication along the way are simply collateral damage.

Death cafes aren’t a solution to lack of teaching, but I think they make a good start. All medical students should attend one. It’s something all of us, without exception, will be affected by. Only through practising these skills can we hope to be effective and sensitive communicators when the time comes for us to break bad news.

 Complete Article HERE!

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How to talk about death and funeral planning

[D]eath and funeral planning are not subjects most people enjoy talking about. Although we know that it will eventually come to us all, it is human nature to avoid discussing our own mortality and it’s easy to convince ourselves that we don’t need to worry until much, much later in our lives.

Sadly, thousands of people die every year without ever making any arrangements for their funeral, leaving grieving families to plan and pay for this without any clear understanding of their wishes.

Why express final wishes?

No one can know exactly when they will die, so taking the time now to talk about your wishes for your funeral makes sense for everyone, whether you are just starting out in life or enjoying a peaceful retirement.

According to a 2015 Comres survey on ‘Public Opinions to Death and Dying’, eight out of 10 British people say they have strong wishes for the end of their life and more than two thirds of us think that if people were more comfortable talking about dying, it would be easier to have our end-of-life wishes met.

The same survey showed that less than 20 percent of us have actually asked our nearest and dearest about their end-of-life wishes.

Graham Jones, director at Sun Life, discussing the insurer’s latest ‘Cost of Dying’ report, said it’s not just details like what flowers to have. “A third of those organising a funeral had no idea whether the deceased would have wanted to be buried or cremated,” he said.

End of life plans and making them known

The reality is accepting that it’s important to have the conversation with your loved ones and knowing how to raise the issue are two very different things. There’s no easy way to say ‘I’ve been having a think about what I want to happen when I die’.

Rather than springing it on unsuspecting family and friends, it might help to raise your own funeral wishes in relation to the passing of a friend or even a celebrity.  If you are met with a refusal to discuss it, try to point out that it won’t be any easier if you die without anyone knowing what you wanted for your funeral and beyond.

Talking about dying doesn’t make it happen and can bring peace of mind, allowing us to relax knowing that our plans are understood and, when the time comes, our loved ones will know exactly what to do.

“We all need to get better at discussing our end of life plans, including our funeral plans,” said Claire Henry, chief executive of the Dying Matters Coalition. “It gives us peace of mind to know we’ve made and shared our plans, and it makes life easier for our loved ones to know they are giving us the perfect send-off we want.”

Reduce financial burden and stress by planning ahead

By planning ahead, you can help to ease the emotional and the financial burden on loved ones at a very difficult time. One of the best ways to make sure that your family and friends are not left to pay for your funeral is to consider a funeral plan.

Pre-paid funeral plans make sure you have the funeral you want, planned and paid for in advance. When you purchase your plan, a local funeral director is appointed to take care of your requirements and to make sure that your family receives personal service when it really counts.

A pre-paid funeral plan gives you the opportunity to pre-arrange your burial or cremation, choose your coffin and specify transport. With your wishes laid out and a local funeral director appointed all your loved ones have to do when the time comes is make one phone call to the chosen funeral director.

Save by fixing funeral costs

A pre-paid funeral plan not only gives you control of your funeral arrangements, it also allows you to pay for your funeral director’s services included in the plan at today’s prices despite constantly rising costs.

According to the SunLife Cost of Dying Report 2015, in 2004, the average cost of a funeral was £1,920. Today it is £3,897, and at that rate of increase, in another 10 years, the average cost of a funeral could be more than £7,000.

With a pre-paid funeral, you ensure your wishes are shared with your loved ones and in turn, it provides you with peace of mind that your funeral will not burden your loved ones and guarantees that your funeral director’s costs will be covered, even if you stick around for decades.

Complete Article HERE!

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Northwest doctors rethink aid-in-dying drugs to avoid prolonged deaths

Doctors seeking to help terminally ill patients under state Death with Dignity laws have come up with a new drug mixture. It’s the latest alternative to one drug that suddenly got too expensive and a mixture that took too many hours to work.

Valium, also known by the name diazepam, is one drug used in a mixture of aid-in-dying medications.

[T]wo years after an abrupt price hike for a lethal drug used by terminally ill patients to end their lives, doctors in the Northwest are once again rethinking aid-in-dying medications — this time because they’re taking too long to work.

The concerned physicians say they’ve come up with yet another alternative to Seconal, the powerful sedative that was the drug of choice under Death with Dignity laws until prices charged by a Canadian company doubled to more than $3,000 per dose.

It’s the third drug mixture recommended by the doctors whose medication protocols help guide decisions for prescribers in the six U.S. states where aid-in-dying is allowed.

The first Seconal alternative turned out to be too harsh, burning patients’ mouths and throats, causing some to scream in pain. The second drug mix, used 67 times, has led to deaths that stretched out hours in some patients — and up to 31 hours in one case.

“[Twenty percent] of the cases were three hours or more before death, which we think is too long,” said Robert Wood, a retired HIV/AIDS researcher who volunteers with the advocacy group End of Life Washington, in an email. “The longest was 31 hours, the next longest 29 hours, the third longest 16 hours and some eight hours in length.”

Patients and families are told to expect sleep within 10 minutes and death within four hours. When it takes far longer, family members get worried, even distressed, said Dr. Carol Parrot, a retired anesthesiologist who has prescribed drugs for dozens of aid-in-dying patients in Washington.

The doctors say this can be addressed with larger doses of the three drugs they have been using — diazepam, often used to treat anxiety; digoxin, used to treat heart issues; and morphine, a narcotic pain reliever — plus another heart medication, propranolol, in a four-drug cocktail aimed at quickly inducing death, Wood said.

Parrot and Wood are part of a seven-member group of doctors in the Northwest who came up with the three-drug protocol after Valeant Pharmaceuticals Inc. acquired the rights to secobarbital, known as Seconal, in 2015 and raised the price sharply.

“We wanted the new drug regime to be safe, reliable and effective — and cost $500 or less,” said Parrot.

How long until death?

Since 1997, when Oregon’s Death with Dignity law became the first in the nation, doctors had relied on fast-acting, relatively inexpensive barbiturates — either secobarbital or pentobarbital — for patients with terminal diagnoses who sought aid in dying in Oregon, Washington, California, Colorado, Montana and Vermont. The practice also has been approved in Washington, D.C., but is being reviewed by Congress.

Pentobarbital became unavailable after drugmakers blocked its use in U.S. death-penalty executions.

Concerns about the overly long deaths surfaced last summer, Parrot said. Nearly all of the problems occurred in patients already taking high doses of opiates.

“We run into patients who are so tolerant or dependent on narcotics that even the astronomically high doses of oral narcotics in our prescription do not stop them from breathing,” she said.

If patients have diseases that slow or alter normal organ function, it can affect the speed and amount of drugs absorbed in the small intestine, metabolized in the liver and sent to the rest of the body. Very large patients, too, may require larger doses.

Deaths aren’t required to be supervised, and no doctor was present with the unidentified patient who took 31 hours to die, so doctors would only be speculating about the reason, Parrot said.

Not all patients — or doctors — experienced overly long deaths with the previous drug mixture. Dr. Lonny Shavelson, a Berkeley, California, physician who has supervised two dozen aid-in-dying deaths under California’s new law, said it worked fine.

“My personal experience is, I haven’t had long deaths with it,” Shavelson said.

And not all doctors think long deaths are a problem. In Oregon, even with fast-acting barbiturates, time to death has ranged from one minute to 104 hours during the 20 years the law has been in effect, state records show.

“I’ve heard stories where it took quite a number of hours to die, and it was fine,” said Dr. David Grube, an Oregon-based medical director for the advocacy group Compassion & Choices.

Scrabble, then lethal drugs in scotch

Scott and Amy Kreiter, of Wenatchee, didn’t know what to expect when Scott’s mother, Patricia Hansen, 69, decided to take the lethal drugs on Dec. 26, 2016. Hansen, a lively woman who once ran a gourmet ice-cream business, had endured frequent hospitalizations for end-stage kidney failure, congestive heart failure and other ailments.

“She said, ‘I want to listen to Willie Nelson, I want to play a game of Scrabble, I want to drink a Rob Roy or two, and then I want to be done,’ ” said Scott Kreiter, 47.

Hansen proceeded to “kick our butts” at Scrabble, her son said — including fulfilling a goal of getting a triple-word score with a dirty word. Then she mixed the drugs with scotch and drank the solution.

“She didn’t complain. She just took it,” her son recalled. “She said, ‘You thought I’d chicken out, didn’t you?’ ”

Within two minutes of downing the mixture, Hansen was asleep. Within 20 minutes, her breathing had stopped.

“We thought it would take one to two hours,” Amy Kreiter said. “It if had gone on for hours, we would have thought we did it wrong.”

Critics of aid-in-dying say growing reports of overly long deaths underscore their objections. Dr. David Stevens, CEO of Christian Medical & Dental Associations, which has tried to halt or reverse laws, said coming up with new drug protocols could eventually be a step toward Holland’s practice of allowing euthanasia by lethal injection “so the patient could be killed ‘humanely.’ ”

“We are heading down that same path,” Stevens said in an email.

But Parrot and other frequent prescribers of aid-in-dying drugs say they are looking for the best way to honor the wishes of patients in states where the practice is allowed. Doctors recently began using the newest drug mixture and will gather data about its effectiveness.

“We’re not experimenting,” Parrot said. “We are working with available drugs to provide dying patients a comfortable, peaceful death that is reliable and safe for them and comforting for their families as well.”

Complete Article HERE!

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How to Find Meaning in the Face of Death

The time between diagnosis and death presents an opportunity for “extraordinary growth.”

 

By Emily Esfahani Smith

[T]he psychiatrist William Breitbart lives at the edge of life and death. As chairman of the Department of Psychiatry and Behavioral Sciences at Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center in New York, Breitbart specializes in end-of-life care for terminally ill cancer patients. For many of his patients, the most pressing question isn’t when they’ll die or how painful death will be. Rather, it’s what makes life meaningful. They are in search of a meaning that cannot be destroyed by death.

Is there one?

Breitbart has spent the better part of his career trying to answer that question. His ground-breaking research shows that while the specter of death often leads people to conclude that their lives are meaningless, it can also be a catalyst for them to work out, as they never have before, the meaning of their lives.

When people believe their lives are meaningful, according to psychologists, it’s because three conditions have been satisfied: They feel their existence is valued by others; they are driven by a sense of purpose, or important life goals; and they understand their lives as coherent and integrated. Psychologists and philosophers say that the path to meaning lies in connecting and contributing to something that is bigger than the self, like family, country, or God.

Meaning and death, Breitbart believes, are the two sides of the same coin—the fundamental problems of the human condition. How should a human being live a finite life? How can we face death with dignity and not despair? What redeems the fact that we will die? These questions roll around Breitbart’s mind every day as he works with patients facing life’s end.

Breitbart’s interest in meaning took root in his childhood. Born in 1951, Breitbart grew up on the Lower East Side of Manhattan. His parents, Jews from eastern Poland, narrowly avoided Hitler’s death camps. When they moved to America, they carried their memories of the war years with them. Breitbart’s childhood was steeped in that tragic past. Every morning, his mother would ask him at the breakfast table, “Why am I here?” Why, she wondered, did she live when so many others had died?

“I grew up with a sense of responsibility to justify my parents’ survival and to create something in the world that would be significant enough to make my life worthwhile. It’s no coincidence,” he laughed, “that I ended up at Sloan Kettering.”

Breitbart began working at the hospital in 1984 during the height of the AIDS epidemic. Young men his age were dying all around him. As he tended to them, “They were constantly asking me to help them die,” he said. He was also working with terminal cancer patients. “When I walked in the room, they would say, ‘I only have three months to live. If that’s all I have, I see no value or purpose to living.’” They told him, “If you want to help me, kill me.”

If death means non-existence, Breitbart’s patients reasoned, then what meaning could life possibly have? And if life has no meaning, there’s no point of suffering through cancer.

By the ’90s, physician-assisted suicide was a hot topic in Breitbart’s circles and beyond. The doctor Jack Kevorkian had helped his first patient end her life in 1990. As the United States debated the ethics of assisted suicide, other countries were taking steps toward normalizing the practice. In 2000, the Netherlands became the first nation to make physician-assisted suicide legal. Today the practice is legal in the United States in California, Vermont, Montana, Washington, and Oregon.

As Breitbart heard more stories of assisted suicide, he began to wonder what specifically was driving the terminally ill to give up on life. At the time, he was doing research studies on pain and fatigue at the end of life, so he tacked onto those studies some questions that asked his subjects whether they felt a desire for a hastened death. What he discovered surprised him.

They no longer wanted to die. Their spiritual wellbeing improved. They reported a higher quality of life.

The assumption had been that the ill chose to end their lives because they were in terrible pain. But Breitbart and his colleagues found that wasn’t always the case. Instead, those who desired a hastened death reported feelings of meaninglessness, depression, and hopelessness. When Breitbart asked patients why they wanted a prescription for assisted suicide, many said it was because they had lost meaning in life. Unlike clinical depression, which has a specific set of diagnosable symptoms, meaninglessness was more of an “existential concern,” Breitbart said—a belief that one’s life has little value or purpose and is, therefore, not worth living.

Breitbart knew he could treat depression—there were medicines and well-developed psychotherapies for that—but he was stumped when it came to treating meaninglessness. Then, in 1995, he began to see a way forward. He was invited to join the Project on Death in America, which aimed to improve the experience of dying. Breitbart and his colleagues on the project—including philosophers, a monk, and other physicians—had long conversations about death and the meaning of life, “peppered with references to people like Nietzsche and Kierkegaard and Schopenhauer,” Breitbart said. “What I suddenly discovered,” he explained, was that “the search for meaning, the need to create meaning, the ability to experience meaning was a basic motivating force of human behavior. We were not taught this stuff at medical school!”

Breitbart became convinced that if he could help patients build meaning, he could decrease their suicidal thoughts and make their lives worth living even to the very end.

He developed an eight-session group therapy program where six to eight cancer patients come together in a counseling workshop. Each session, in one way or another, helps build meaning. In the first session, for example, the patients are asked to reflect on “one or two experiences or moments when life has felt particularly meaningful to you.” In the second session, patients respond to the question “Who am I?” to tap into the identities that give them the most meaning. One woman responded saying, “I’m somebody who can be very private … [and] have been working on accepting love and affection and other gifts from other people.” In subsequent sessions, they share their life story with the group and think about the role that love, beauty, and humor played in their lives.

In the final session, the patients reflect on the part of them that will go on living even after they are dead—their legacy. That could be their soul, or it could be something they helped to create that will continue to exist—their children, a work of art, or an organization. They present a “legacy project” to the group, generally something they do or create that represents how they want to be remembered. One man brought in a woodcut of a heart sculpted into a Celtic Trinity. “This is what I will teach my children,” he said, “that there is eternal love, and that I will be there for them, far beyond my passing.”

Breitbart performed three randomized, controlled experiments on the meaning-centered psychotherapy. When he analyzed the results with his colleagues, Breitbart saw the therapy had been transformative. By the end of the eight sessions, the patients’ attitudes toward life and death had changed. They were less hopeless and anxious about the prospect of death than they were before they began the program. They no longer wanted to die. Their spiritual wellbeing improved. They reported a higher quality of life. And, of course, they found life to be more meaningful. These effects not only persisted over time—they actually got stronger. When Breitbart followed up with one group of patients two months later, he found that their reports of meaning and spiritual wellbeing had increased, while their feelings of anxiety, hopelessness, and desire for death had decreased.

The time between diagnosis and death, Breitbart has found, presents an opportunity for “extraordinary growth.” One woman, for example, was initially devastated by her diagnosis of colon cancer—but after enrolling in the therapy program, she realized, “I didn’t have to work so hard to find the meaning of life. It was being handed to me everywhere I looked.” And that realization ultimately brought her—and Breitbart’s other patients—some measure of peace and consolation as they faced life’s final challenge.

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