Do you want to die at home? Here’s why you probably won’t.

Hospice care for terminally ill patients
Hospice volunteers caress the hands of terminally ill patient Annabelle Martin, 92, as her health quickly declined at the Hospice of Saint John on September 1, 2009 in Lakewood, Colorado.

HAIDER JAVED WARRAICH

Late on a Sunday night in the hospital, my Haitian patient’s wife came in to help translate. I don’t know what I would have done without her. I needed to tell my patient that the tumor growing in his chest was pressing on his aorta. If he needed CPR overnight, the chest compressions might prove fatal.

As I explained all this, I looked back and forth from the wife to the patient like a spectator watching a tennis match. Her face contorted in horror at the news, but he remained stoic, with his arms crossed, and kept repeating one word: lakay. Finally I asked the wife, “What islakay?” She looked at me and said: “Home. He wants to go home.”

One of the few things that people across all backgrounds and cultures value in common is home. An overwhelming amount of research from around the world has shown that home is where most patients and their family members would like to take their last breath. But not everyone has that option.

Often, the underlying disease, rather than the patient’s wishes, dictates their place of death. Patients with cancer, for example, die at home more often than those with heart disease. (Cancer progresses in a more predictable way, so those patients are more likely to use hospice services at home.)

Social support is another factor. Frequently, those close to the end require 24-hour supervision, which a relative may not be able to provide. And caring for the terminally ill is extremely taxing — for caregiver and patient — so hospitals seem like the better option.

Geography can also determine where one is more likely to die. How far one lives from a hospital is directly associated with the chances of dying there. No surprise, then, that the nation with the greatest density of hospital beds — Japan — is also where patients are most likely to die in one. (On the flip side, in areas without adequate medical and hospice resources, patients may die at home when they could have been saved by professional care.)

Race, finally, plays a role. Although the proportion of home deaths since the 1980s has risen, 43% of blacks and 44% of Latinos die in hospitals, compared with 34% of whites. (In the 1970s, the percentage of blacks and whites who died in the hospital was the same: 54%.)

That’s in part because home care is expensive, and whites are more likely than other racial and ethnic groups to have access to home services through their insurance.

Culture, however, often is an even more important determinant. Many studies have found that minorities generally receive fewer medical services over the course of their lives when they are relatively stable. But at the end of life, minorities are more likely to receive aggressive care, are more likely to want resuscitation and intubation, and therefore end up spending more time in the intensive care unit than whites.

One important solution to so many people dying in hospitals would be to build more hospice homes in inner cities. But if we want more people to have the option of dying in their own homes, we need to push insurance providers to increase end-of-life options. Although most insurance pays for hospice care, many patients also require increased support at home, which is not typically covered.

But we also need a culture change, convincing patients and their families that more is not always better in healthcare, particularly when death is inevitable.

Many patients want to die at home but are pressured by relatives and even some physicians to keep trying Hail Mary procedures that end up prolonging suffering. Having the option to die at home is perhaps one means for patients to regain some semblance of control.

Given how advanced my Haitian patient’s cancer was, I knew that there was no way we could win this war, which made me desperate for every small victory. So I savored the moment as he collected his belongings to go home to hospice services, knowing that a death in one’s own bed was a privilege that many do not have.

Complete Article HERE!

The courage to die

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The day he was to die, Vernon Gearhard had breakfast with Fran, his wife of 57 years, their three children and their spouses.

He listened to some of his favorite music – classical pianist Johannes Brahms and opera singer Kathleen Battle – and around noon, he and Fran sat on their terrace. The sun peeked out from behind rain clouds and two bald eagles and several raven flew around nearby, lingering in the area as the couple watched.

The 84-year-old master mason had planned for this day. Friends and family had been visiting for the past month, many from nearby towns, others from as far away as Vermont. He had spent the last week with his family, including his seven grandchildren and three great-grandchildren.

It was time.

002The medication – powder from 100 capsules of the barbiturate Seconal – had been mixed with water, creating a slurry-type paste that Vern could drink. He went into the bedroom and grabbed the bar he needed to use to pull himself from his wheelchair into a sitting position on the bed.

“This is the last damn time I have to grab this bar,” he told his wife, Fran.

He drank the medicinal slurry, washing it down with orange juice. His eyes rolled backward and he lay back on the bed. Thirty minutes later, surrounded by his family, his heart stopped beating.

“Just our children came in while he was dying,” Fran said. “I promised him that someone would be touching him the whole time.” She stayed with his body until the hearse arrived.

Fran remembers that day – March 17, 2015 – with tears and joy.

“It was so easy for him, finally,” she said. “It has been a long time since anything had been easy. … It was really a joyful thing.”

Vern, who had Parkinson’s disease, was given less than six months to live when he decided to end his life by taking prescribed medication through Oregon’s Death With Dignity Act.

On President’s Day, Feb. 16, 2015, Fran and Vern gathered their family together and told them of his decision. Their three children and their spouses were supportive. So was the rest of the family.

That support, Fran said, made it possible. “The kids really, really, really were there for us. I couldn’t have done it without their support.”

Since Oregon’s Death With Dignity Act was enacted in 1997 more than 860 terminally ill people have chosen to use it to end their lives. To do so, a patient must get the agreement of two doctors that he or she has six months or less to live. The patient also must go through an intensive interview process to determine his or her mental state and decision-making capabilities.

It’s not easy, Fran said, noting that the Gearhards had help from Compassion and Choices, a nonprofit advocacy group that provides trained volunteers and consultants to help terminally ill patients seeking end-of-life options. The Gearhards connected by phone with a Compassion and Choices volunteer in Ashland.003

Vern was diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease about 20 years ago, when he was in his early 60s though family members say he had symptoms of the disease, including tremors, in his late 50s. He took medication and led a physically active lifestyle, which seemed to keep the disease’s symptoms at bay.

Parkinson’s disease is a progressive disorder of the nervous system that affects movement. It develops gradually, and early symptoms include tremors. In the later stages, muscle stiffness makes it difficult or impossible for patients to walk and take care of themselves.

Vern was born in Chicago, and grew up in Martinez, Calif. He joined the Navy and served in the Korean War from 1950-54. He then attended Cal Poly on the GI Bill and earned a degree in agronomy. Vern and Fran began dating while she was in college – she earned an education degree from San Francisco State University. They married her sophomore year in college. Several years later they bought acreage north of Merrill in 1965 and started farming.

Fran taught for 34 years, 28 of those as a fifth-grade teacher at Shasta Elementary in Klamath Falls. They raised three children – Theresa, Marcus and Paul.

The family farmed for 15 years, but masonry was in Vern’s blood. His grandfather, an Austrian immigrant, was a mason and Vern apprenticed under him. As farming changed, Vern spent more time on masonry and eventually worked at it fulltime, earning a reputation as master mason with an artistic and signature style.

After his Parkinson’s diagnosis, Vern continued to work as a master mason, creating artistic fireplaces, homes and other pieces for private clients as well as for local businesses. Some of his more prominent pieces include the Klamath Rotary sign downtown, the sign at the Herald and News building off Foothills Boulevard and the rock sign at Kla-Mo-Ya Casino off Highway 97 near Chiloquin.

004He helped build his house, high on a hill, an artistic nod to a mason’s mastery of his craft. Inside, a rock fireplace dominates the great room and touches of his work are throughout.

Vern loved classical music, opera, and good literature. He belonged to two book groups and owned the first version of Kindle, an electronic book reader that launched in November 2007. By the time he died, he owned his eighth Kindle.

He also was a huge San Francisco Giants fan. “He always recorded the games he couldn’t watch,” Fran recalled. “God pity you if you told him the score before he could watch it.”

When he was 80, his symptoms — tremors, muscle and balance issues — forced him to retire. The disease progressed quickly after he stopped working. First, he had to use a cane and later, a wheelchair.

As the disease progressed, Vern needed help with everyday tasks, and then could no longer use his hands well enough to turn the pages on his Kindle. In his last month, he was sleeping nearly 20 hours a day and had limited energy.

“When he had to quit work, that was huge. When he had to quit driving, that was huge,” Fran said. “When he lost the ability to read, that was it.”

In November 2014, Fran, 78, faced her own mortality when she was diagnosed with stage 4 colon cancer. She decided to go through treatment so she could be there for Vern, who was thinking about his end-of-life options. She had surgery, followed with chemotherapy in January, and currently is cancer free.

Vern approached his doctor, who said though he supported Vern’s decision, he couldn’t write the Death With Dignity prescription. His physician did prescribe hospice, which is for patients who have been diagnosed with six months or less to live.

The Gearhards were able to find two other Klamath Falls physicians who were willing to consider Vern’s decision and work with them. The law requires both a prescribing physician and a consulting physician to agree on a diagnosis and prognosis as well as whether Vern was mentally capable of making the decision to end his life.003

Klamath Hospice helped with Vern’s care and supported the family during his last months of life. Hospice does not advocate for or against the Death With Dignity Act, but provides support for patients and their families, Fran said.

When the time came, the law required that Vern take the prescription himself, holding the mug and drinking the medication without aid.

“His big worry was that he would be beyond the point where he could do it on his own,” said Dennis Ross, Vern’s son-in-law. “Your ability to follow through could be ended at any time.”

Ross was there the day of Vern’s death. An hour before he was to take the prescription, he had to take anti-nausea medication. The medication made him sleepy and he told his family: “I’m getting sleepy. We better get on with it.”

Ross, who had watched his parents die, believes the dying should have choices. His parents lived in California and didn’t have the same end-of-life options Vern did.

He watched Vern’s quality of life decline and supported his decision. “There’re just a thousand little things that take your dignity away,” he said. “It just piles up.”

But the end game is up to the patient.

“You can make all the plans, but when it comes down to drinking that stuff, that’s an incredible amount of courage,” Ross said.

Vern’s memorial was March 21 at his daughter’s home, a rock house he helped build near his own, and cars lined the road as family, clients and friends came to celebrate his life. Vern had picked the music he wanted played at his funeral – Mozart’s “Concerto in D-Minor, Second Movement” and John Lennon’s “Imagine.”

The Concerto in D-Minor was a piece Vern fell in love with in 1981 while he was collecting rock in Langell Valley. “He always listened to classical music while he worked,” Fran said. “That day he came home and said, ‘This is what I want played at my memorial.’ Before he died, he played it for his friends who came to visit, and for the hospice worker.”

Vern was an atheist and was curious about death.

“He always said he wanted to know so he wanted to be aware,” Fran said. “He was always very articulate about his perspective of life and death.”

“For us and for Vern – it was his decision – it was right,” she added. “It’s not for everyone, I understand. I just want to share the opportunity this law gave us.”

Fran recalled her husband’s last hours with joy.

It was around noon, just before the two of them went to sit on the terrace.

“Vern started to sob, and I asked, ‘What’s going on?’ He said, ‘I just feel so much love.’”

Fran smiled. “It’s a story with a beautiful ending.”

Complete Article HERE!

If These Bones Could Talk: The Stories Human Skeletons Can Tell

By ELISSA NADWORNY

There’s an open box of skulls on the floor. A table is covered with pelvis bones. Nearby: a pile of ribs, tied up with a piece of string.

I’m standing in a basement room, underneath the bleachers of the football stadium at the University of Tennessee, Knoxville. Looking at floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with cardboard boxes. More than a thousand boxes, and each one contains a human skeleton.

“Pick a box. Any box,” says Dr. Dawnie Steadman, the director of the school’s forensic anthropology program. “What’s your pleasure?”

I scan the rows of boxes. I’m thinking I should pick a female. And so I settle on a box five rows up, just above my head, labeled “Female 57.”

Steadman places it on a table and starts to unpack it. Inside, the bones are tannish brown, not the bleached white I imagined.

She knows how to read these bones, and this one tells a story right away. “So this individual needed to have an autopsy after death,” Steadman explains, “and now I know why.”

She picks up a piece of the skull and points to a place just above the left eye.

I see it: a perfectly rounded hole.

“What we see here,” she says, “is a gunshot wound.”

Allysha Winburn, a Ph.D. student from Florida, came to the Bass Collection to study age estimation, osteoarthritis and obesity.
Allysha Winburn, a Ph.D. student from Florida, came to the Bass Collection to study age estimation, osteoarthritis and obesity.

This moment is why people come from all over the world to study these bones. Female 57 is just one of the 1,200 skeletons here, part of what’s called the Bass Donated Skeletal Collection.

Anthropologists, detectives, demographers — they all come here to learn how to read these bones: How old was this person? Was it a man or a woman? How did they die?

What they learn here can help them identify a missing person, crack an old murder case … or understand how obesity relates to osteoarthritis.

Steadman heads deeper into the stacks.

“There’s no more than one person in each box,” she says, counting off the ages as we walk by: 45, 49, 42. There’s at least one person who lived past 100.

So, how did these bones get here? While they’re still alive, people can sign up to donate their remains to the UT’s body-donation program. When they die, their bodies are sent here to the university.

Contemporary skeletons show researchers the side effects of modern medicine, like a hip replacement.
Contemporary skeletons show researchers the side effects of modern medicine, like a hip replacement.

But before they become skeletons in a box, they have another stop to make: a special fenced-in field across campus. There, the corpses are laid out on the ground and students study them as they decompose. When all that’s left is the skeleton, students clean the bones and send them here.

The donors “give us all sorts of information about themselves,” says Steadman. “They tell us their age, sex … ancestry.”

Everything but their name. To visitors — like me — the bones remain anonymous.

Not Just Old Bones

Because these bones belonged to people who died in the last 35 years, many skeletons bear the marks — and products — of modern medicine.

“Here’s another prosthetic that we commonly see,” says Steadman, pointing to an box open on the floor.

I look closer, and something shiny catches my eye. It’s on the end of a leg bone.

“It’s the ball of the ball and socket joint. They remove that and they replace it with a really nice stainless steel, metal head,” Steadman says. “That’s a hip replacement.”

The collection holds more than 1,200 donated human skeletons.
The collection holds more than 1,200 donated human skeletons.

Pelvises, skulls, vertebrae! Its all so cool. But I can’t stop thinking about Female 57, that first skull with the bullet hole. We head back to her box, still open on the table.

“I can’t believe you pulled out that gunshot wound,” Steadman says, laughing.

She rolls the large piece of the skull over in her hands, looking for more clues.

“This looks to me like it could be either a contact entrance wound or exit wound. I’ll have to keep looking,” she says, sifting through the other bones.

We learn more about this 57-year-old woman. She has a bifurcated rib — meaning she was born with two of her ribs are stuck together. She was about 5 feet 7 — a little taller than I am. I’m dying to know what happened to this woman. Who shot her? Was it a suicide?

But Steadman stops me.

“I’m not gonna say much more because of this … it now may become somewhat identifying.” She trails off.

I get it. We have to protect this women’s identity, and we’re about to learn too many details.

So we pack up the bones. Steadman returns them to the shelf, tucked between a male, 35, and a female, 81.

These bones, they’re silent teachers.

Steadman agrees: “You can absolutely learn something from every single skeleton.”

And here they’ll rest, waiting for the next set of curious hands.

Complete Article HERE!

What Really Matters at the End of Life?

What Really Matters at the End of Life?

Dr. BJ Miller, a palliative care doctor and Executive Director of San Francisco’s Zen Hospice Project, shares insights about end-of-life care in the recent TED Talk “What Really Matters at the End of Life.” Beyond his medical training, Dr. Miller’s unique perspective was shaped by a tragic near-death accident that took his feet and arm, but left him with an understanding of suffering and a deep desire to provide a new approach to the way our society cares for the dying. Here are a few things we learned:

Priorities change at the end of life.

“We know from research what’s most important to people closer to death: comfort. Feeling unburdened, and unburdening to those they love.

Over Zen Hospice’s nearly 30 years, we’ve learned from our residents in subtle detail [that] little things aren’t so little. Take [a resident named] Jeanette – she finds it harder to breath one day to the next due to ALS. Well guess what, she wants to start smoking again… not out of some self-destructive bent, but to feel her lungs filled while she has them. Priorities change.”

Don’t numb the senses, indulge them.Dr. BJ Miller

“Seriously, with all the heavy-duty stuff happening under our roof, one of the tried and true interventions we know of, is to bake cookies.  As long as we have our senses – even just one – we have at least the possibility of accessing what makes us feel human, connected. Imagine the ripples of this notion for the millions of people living and dying with dementia.”

Death can give more meaning to moments in life.

“There’s always a shock of beauty and meaning to be found in what life we have left. If we generate and love such moments ferociously, maybe we can learn to live well not in spite of death, but because of it.”

This is only a sampling of the wisdom shared in Dr. Miller’s 19-minute talk. Click here to view the full video.
Complete Article HERE!

California Assembly approves right-to-die legislation

Debbie Ziegler
Debbie Ziegler holds a photo of her daughter — Brittany Maynard, the California woman with brain cancer who moved to Oregon to legally end her life last fall — during a news conference to announce the reintroduction of right-to-die legislation in August.

Jealous Love

Beautiful music video about…well, you’ll see.

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The latest video from Seattle singer-songwriter Noah Gundersen is a relentless attack on the tear ducts. If its visuals, directed gorgeously by Ryan Booth, don’t make you cry, Gundersen’s plaintive voice and aching lyrics might. This track, “Jealous Love,” is self-explanatory in the best ways a folk song can be. It’s got an immediate emotional accessibility reminiscent of The Swell Season — Gundersen’s credibility and sincerity are unshakable from the first note. And that’s just the song.

The video would seem manipulative in its use of heartbreaking imagery, if it didn’t also feel deeply true. Gundersen’s lyrics are perfectly embodied by the (remarkable) actors performing over them — the lead, Ted Johnson, plays a man who has, in the twilight of his life, lost exactly the kind of love Gundersen sings of wanting for himself. “Jealous Love” takes repeat viewings, if your heart can handle it, in order to appreciate how intricately bound Gundersen’s performance is to the actors’. Does the voice singing belong to the young version of the old man onscreen? Or is it perhaps the man’s adult son (played by Marc Menchaca), who knows what he hopes for because he’s seen it lived in front of him? It could be either, and it could be both. From any direction, this song and video are a (devastating) triumph.

 

Join Me on The Death Chicks Crowdcast Show

I’m going to be a guest on The Death Chicks Show!

09/10/15, Noon Pacific and 3pm Eastern

(Does that make me a death dude?  I’ll have to ask them.)

 
 
Who here is an expert in ACTUALLY dying???

Have you done it?

To achieve expert status, one usually has to be proficient in something or have done something over and over again.  Hmmm… kind of tough with the death thing”, eh?.  Even those who have had near death experiences are still amateurs in a way– because they’re back!  They didn’t do it right the first time! 😉

This is why we LOVE the title of this book and the work that Richard Wagner, PhD has been doing for the last 30 years.  Since we are all amateurs at “the death thing”, there is actually a road map for those who are dying and will be dying.  Is that you?

ABOUT OUR GUEST
Richard Wagner, Ph.D. is a psychotherapist/sex therapist in private practice in Seattle, WA, 1981 to present.  He has AGDD_front coverover 30 years of experience working with terminally ill, chronically ill, elder, and dying people in hospital, hospice, and home settings.  He facilitates support groups for care-providers as well as healing and helping professionals.  He provides grief counseling for survivors both individually and in groups settings. He is the Founder of PARADIGM/Enhancing Life Near Death, a cutting edge, health related nonprofit organization.

Dr. Wagner was awarded the prestigious University of California, San Francisco Chancellor’s Award for Public Service in 1999 for this very work.

He is also the author of Longfellow And The Deep Hidden Woods, a critically acclaimed children’s book that touches upon the topics of death and bereavement.

Dr. Wagner was born in Chicago and grew up in Niles, Illinois, a Northwest suburb. He left home to attend the seminary after high school and graduated from Oblate College in Washington, DC in 1972. He moved to Oakland, California in 1972 and studied at The Jesuit School of Theology (part of the Graduate Theological Union) in Berkeley.  He was ordained as a priest in November, 1975 and obtained his Ph.D. in 1981. Dr. Wagner lived in Oakland until 1978 and moved to San Francisco until 1999.  He then relocated to Seattle, Washington where he lives today.

Richard can be reached at https://theamateursguide.com

ABOUT YOUR HOSTS
+The Death Chicks   show was created to shine light on the tabooed topics of death, dying, grief, and loss.  We’re listening to all perspectives and having the conversations that we as human beings who live and die on this earth, need to have, without fear of judgement.

+Patty Burgess Brecht   is the President of Possibility for Doing Death Differently and Teaching Transitions.  She is an End-of-Life Educator and Certified Grief Recovery Specialist.  She is the developer of the End of Life Specialist Training and Certification (CEOLS), and teaches individuals and organizations how to Do Death Differently by not being overwhelmed or afraid of death, but to seek and experience the joy, the passion, and the even the exhilaration inherent in the honor of BEing with the dying.  Her video-based, online, inspiring course is used in hospices, hospitals, home care, colleges and universities across the country and is now open to individuals who are drawn to this work.

www.doingdeathdifferently.com – for Individuals
www.teachingtransitions.com – Hospices and Colleges/Universities

+Myste Lyn  is an Empowerment Coach who specializes in supporting women recovering from loss.  Myste is an intuitive healer who reconnects women with their inner place of peace.  She specializes in reducing fears, alleviating guilt, and creating inner confidence.  http://www.bittersweetblessing.com/

Join  on Thursdays Noon Pacific and 3pm Eastern.

As we like to say NO ONE is getting out of this gig alive!   So we may as well talk about, learn about it, plan for it, lean into it, and feel comfortable with it when it is our time or the time of our loved ones.

Please share and help us get the word out!

Can you think of someone:

  • who is facing their own death and might be comforted by a roadmap
  • who is burdened by very heavy feelings, and could use some help re-entering life after a death?

If you do, please pass this invitation on (or after the fact, recording…).

You never know when a suggestion out of the blue from YOU, can give another a reason to go on.  This could make a true difference for another. And there are people, only a mouse click away to with whom to connect and share.

A GREAT NEW WAY TO WAY TO WATCH THE SHOW:
The new crowdcast app lets you watch the show from Facebook, Twitter, or simply sign in via email, and of course you can always watch it from this page or YouTube.  For those not on Google plus, they can watch it from where ever they are happiest!  Find your happy place here:
https://www.crowdcast.io/e/mystelyn(new)6

See you there!

 

CLICK ON THE LINK BELOW:

The Amateurs Guide to Death and Dying: A Truly Aventurous Way to Explore Your Mortality

 

Thu, September 10, Noon Pacific and 3pm Eastern

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