In the I.C.U., Dying Sometimes Feels Like a Choice

By By Daniela J. Lamas

My patient’s wife had just one question: Was her husband dying?

She knew that he was still on the ventilator even after all these weeks, his lungs too sick and his body too weak to breathe on his own. That he still needed a continuous dialysis machine to do the work of his kidneys. That he had yet to wake up in any meaningful way, though his brain scans showed nothing amiss. That it had been more than 50 days since he entered the hospital and we needed to talk about what would come next.

But when she stood there at the bedside, her husband looked much the same to her as he had a week ago, much the same as he might look next week if we continued to push forward. And she had to ask: Why did we need to have this conversation today? Was her husband dying?

You might think this is an easy question to answer. And yet here in the intensive care unit, it is not. Our medicines and machines extend the lives of patients who would otherwise have died. But what happens when it becomes clear that a patient is not actively dying, but not getting better either? How do doctors and family members navigate death when it is not imminent and unavoidable, but is instead a decision?

During my medical training, death happened in one of two ways. It was either a moment of crisis, doctors rushing into a room, all sound and fury and chest compressions for minutes that felt like hours. Or it was something quieter, entirely divorced from machines, family gathered for the last breaths when the lungs were failing, or the cancer had spread too far.

But there’s a third form that dying takes, when it becomes clear that the life that we can offer is not one that would be acceptable to the patient. It is a death that is made imminent only by the withdrawal of medicines and machines — a death that we plan for. It is a strange thing to plan a death, but I have come to understand that this is part of our work in the I.C.U.

A few months ago, I took care of a cancer patient in her 70s who had been intubated because of a flare-up of an underlying lung disease. In the moments before the anesthesiologists put her to sleep and placed the breathing tube down her throat, she had given her son instructions: Give her a chance to get better, but if that failed, she did not want a tracheostomy tube for a longer-term connection to the ventilator or months at a rehabilitation hospital. Her cancer was progressing, and that was not the way she wanted to spend the last year of her life.

I told her family that we would continue our intensive interventions for two weeks, a “time-limited trial of critical care,” as we often call it. If my patient was not breathing on her own at that point, then she never would never be — not without a trach and protracted rehab, a best-case scenario that she would find unacceptable. A week passed. She improved a bit and her family let themselves hope, only to be devastated days later when she worsened again.

Then, the day before the time-limited trial was to end, my patient’s son and daughter took me aside. They could not bring themselves to leave that night and return the next morning to hear the words that now seemed inevitable. If their mother was not going to improve, they wanted to take her off the machines that evening. The next day was her grandson’s birthday. She would not have wanted the little boy’s celebration to be forever intertwined with the sadness of her death. Perhaps they could wait until the day after the birthday, but that might only prolong their mother’s suffering.

There is something uncomfortable about these conversations, where it feels as though we are asking family members to plan the end of a life. It begins with a moment in the family meeting, when we have made the decision to “transition to comfort,” and family members ask me what comes next. What they are asking, really, is how their loved one will die.

As gently as I can, I tell them that when they are ready — as anyone really can be for any of this — we will stop the medications and the tubes that are prolonging life. I tell them that the bedside nurse will give other meds, often morphine or a similar drug, to make sure that their loved one is not in pain. Sometimes they ask if this medication will hasten death, and I explain that it can, but that our primary goal is always to relieve discomfort.

We even have a term for this balance, the “principle of double effect” — as doctors, we accept the risk of a negative consequence like hastening death, so long as our intended outcome is to help the patient by alleviating symptoms. The pain-relieving meds that we administer do not themselves cause death; instead they ensure that our patients are as comfortable as they can be while dying from their underlying disease.

Some family members ask us to stop everything all at once. Others ask for a longer process, to stop one medicine and then another. Someone recently asked the nurse to let every medication run out and not to replace the IV bags. Some ask us to remove the breathing tube, others do not. I am often surprised to what extent people have ideas about what feels right to them, about how the unimaginable should play out. Sometimes there is music. Jerry Garcia. Beethoven. For others, this is all one decision too many, and they sit in silence.

A resident doctor in training came to me recently after one such family meeting, worried that by telling a family that their loved one was dying, he had made it true. If we define dying solely by physiology, by a falling blood pressure or oxygen level, then perhaps that concern is valid. But if we broaden our definition, if we think of dying in the intensive care unit as something that begins when an acceptable outcome is no longer possible, then we are acknowledging the inevitable.

Which is what I told my patient’s wife that day outside his room. We had given her husband every chance to rebound, to show us that he could make it through, but the insults his body faced were too great. We could press on, but to what end? He would never make it home, never be able to do the things that made his life worth living.

She was right, the timing of this conversation was, in a way, arbitrary. Had I been dealing with a patient in extremis, I might not have stopped her outside the room that day. But once we recognized the reality of her husband’s medical condition, what choice was there?

That night, my patient’s wife made the decision to take him off the ventilator. The nurses titrated the pain medications that ran through his veins as she held vigil at his bedside. And after weeks of critical care limbo, the answer to her question was finally clear. Her husband was dying.

Complete Article HERE!

End of Life Stages Timeline

— What to Expect

By Angela Morrow, RN, BSN, CHPN

When a person is dying there is an end-of-life stages timeline that can help their loved ones understand what is happening to them.

The dying process usually begins well before death takes place. Sometimes, you can recognize the signs that a person is dying by the physical, mental, and emotional changes that are part of the end-of-life timeline.

Death is a deeply personal journey. Nothing about the process is certain or set in stone except for the outcome. There are many paths a dying person can take, but the stages at the end of life do have some similarities.

This article will go over the end-of-life timeline. You will learn about each stage of dying, starting with what happens about one to three months before death; during the last two weeks before death, and in the last few days of life. Understanding the signs of each stage of death will help you prepare and understand what is happening when your loved one is dying.

The End of Life Stages Timeline

The end-of-life timeline starts when someone is very ill and will not recover. At this point, your loved one may have been ill for a long time, or they may have just recently learned that the end is near. In either case, the dying process is set in motion.

Dying is a journey from the known life of this world to the unknown of what lies ahead. Each person starts on a mental path of discovery knowing that death will happen and believing in their own mortality. Ultimately, they will leave their body.

There are several milestones on the dying journey, but not everyone stops at them all. Some people may stop at only a few, while others experience each one and take their time throughout the process of dying. Sometimes, the process takes only days, while other people travel a road for months.

While the paths they take can differ, here’s where the dying process begins for most people.

End of Life Timeline: 1 to 3 Months Before Death

The dying process often comes into view about one to three months before death. Many of the experiences that take place at this first end-of-life stage are broadly common but the specifics can depend on the individual.

There are also social and cultural factors that shape a person’s dying experience—for example, gender roles can be a factor. Research has shown that men are less likely than women to openly talk about their mortality and end-of-life wishes. One reason might be that men find it more difficult to ask for help and want to avoid coming across as being “needy.”

That said, these differences are not necessarily unique to one gender identity; there are plenty of women who struggle to talk about their death and do not want their loved ones to feel “burdened” by caring for them during the dying process.

As a person approaches their death, their religious and cultural background also influences how they feel about the dying process. Depending on their beliefs, certain practices, rituals, and customs can be steps along the end-of-life timeline.

Mental and Behavioral Changes

As a person starts to accept their mortality and realizes that death is approaching, they may start to withdraw. They are beginning the process of separating from the world and the people in it.

During this stage, your loved one may say no to visits from friends, neighbors, and even family. When they do accept visitors, it might be hard for them to interact with you. In those moments, you may struggle with your feelings about them because you feel rejected.

This stage is also one of reflection. A dying person is thinking about their life and revisiting old memories.

Physical Changes

As the body starts to slow down, a dying person may have a reduced appetite and weight loss. This is actually OK because the body no longer needs as much energy. A dying person may start sleeping more and stop doing their regular activities—another reason why they need less nourishment.

The body chemistry is naturally altered during this end-of-life stage and that can cause a mild sense of happiness and well-being (euphoria).

The dying person may stop feeling hungry or thirsty at this stage. While this can alarm their loved ones, they are not suffering in any way by not eating; it is an expected part of the journey they are taking.

End of Life Timeline: 1 to 2 Weeks Before Death

The dying process starts to move faster in the last week or two of a person’s life. The acceleration can be frightening for their loved ones, especially if they are upset by the changes taking place.

As your loved ones’ death is approaching, you may want to “correct” them if they say things that don’t make sense but try not to. At this stage, it’s better to listen to and support your loved one.

For example, your loved one might say that they see or hear a person who died before them. In those moments, just let your loved one tell you about it. You might feel frustrated because you can’t know for sure what they are going through in those moments—are they hallucinating? Are they having a spiritual experience? The uncertainty can be unsettling but it’s part of the process. The best thing you can do is love them.

Mental and Behavioral Changes

During this stage of the end-of-life timeline, a person will mostly be sleeping. When they are awake, confusion and altered senses are common. It’s possible that a loved one will experience delusions, like fearing hidden enemies or feeling invincible. It can be hard for you to witness these changes, but it’s important that you remain supportive.

The dying person may have hallucinations at this stage. They may see or speak to people who are not there, including those who have already died. Sometimes, people feel that this is like the veil between two worlds lifting.

The dying person can be restless during this time. They may pick at their bedsheets or clothing and their movements and actions can seem aimless and make little sense to those around them.

Physical Changes

At this point in the end-of-life timeline, a dying person’s body is having a hard time maintaining itself. Your loved one may need help with just about any form of activity. For example, a person may have trouble swallowing medications or may refuse to take the ones they are prescribed. If they have been taking pills for pain, they may need liquid morphine now.

During this end-of-life stage, signs that death is near include:

  • Body temperature that’s a degree lower than normal (or more)
  • Lower blood pressure
  • An irregular pulse that may slow down or speed up
  • Increased sweating
  • Skin color changes, with pale or bluish lips and nail beds
  • Breathing changes (e.g., a rattling sound and cough)
  • Less or no talking
  • Sudden arm or leg motions

End of Life Timeline: Days to Hours Before Death

The last couple of days before death can surprise family members. At this stage, your loved one may have a sudden surge of energy as they get closer to death. They may want to get out of bed, talk to loved ones, or eat food after having no appetite for days or weeks.

You may take these actions as signs that a dying person is getting better, but the energy will soon go away. It can be hurtful to watch this happen but know that this is a common step within the end-of-life timeline. These energy bursts are a dying person’s final physical acts before moving on.

The surges of activity are usually short. The previous signs of being close to death return more strongly once the energy has been spent.
At this stage, a dying person’s breathing becomes more irregular and slower. Rapid breaths followed by periods of no breathing at all

(Cheyne-Stokes breathing) may occur. You may also hear a “rattling” sound as a dying person breathes.

These changes can be unpleasant to witness but you should try to remember that your loved one is not uncomfortable.

Your loved one’s hands and feet may start looking blotchy, purplish, or mottled. The changes in skin appearance may slowly go up the person’s arms and legs. Their lips and nail beds will turn bluish or purple, and their lips may droop.

At this end-of-life stage, a dying person usually becomes unresponsive. They may have their eyes open but not be able to see their surroundings. It is widely believed that hearing is the last sense to leave a dying person. Knowing this can remind you that it’s still valuable to sit with and talk to your dying loved one during this time.

When your loved one stops breathing and their heart stops beating, death has occurred. They have reached the end of their journey.

Summary

Many people wonder if they will recognize that a loved one is dying. There are often signs that begin a month to three months before death. Knowing these signs may help you prepare for your loved one’s death, and bring comfort to you as you face the physical and mental changes that happen along the end-of-life timeline.

Complete Article HERE!

Researchers Identify 8 Signs of Impending Death

Findings could help families prepare and aid in end-of-life care choices

By

Researchers say they have identified eight specific physical signs that strongly indicate that someone with advanced cancer is entering the last days of life.

The investigators focused on telltale signs that a patient has, at most, just three days to live. The hope is that this information will help family members and other caregivers better handle an impending death, as well as be more prepared for choices that may have to be made during end-of-life care.

“I think the bottom line is that our study identified several classical signs that can be observed by the bedside by doctors, nurses and even family caregivers, which may help them to determine with confidence that the patient has entered the final days of life,” said study lead author Dr. David Hui. He is an assistant professor in the department of palliative care and rehabilitation medicine at the University of Texas MD Anderson Cancer Center in Houston.

He also said that “we believe these signs may apply to both cancer and even non-cancer patients, because these signs occur as part of the natural process of dying.”

Hui and his colleagues reported their findings in the Feb. 9 online edition of Cancer.

To compile their list, the researchers monitored physical changes that occurred just prior to death among more than 350 advanced-stage cancer patients. They were being treated at one of two cancer centers: one in the United States and one in Brazil. All of the patients were in an acute palliative (end-of-life) care unit.

Physical changes were noted twice daily, according to the study.

During the study time frame, more than half (57 percent) of the patients died. And in the end, the authors settled on eight indicators that seemed to most accurately predict imminent death.

Those included: an inability to close the eyelids; diminishing ability to react to visual stimulation; a reduced ability to react to sounds and words; facial drooping; non-reactive pupils; hyperextension of the neck (this causes the head to tilt further back when lying down); vocal cord grunting; and bleeding in the upper digestive tract.

“It is important to point out that only a small proportion of patients may have each of the signs before death,” said Hui, “although a majority would have at least one of the signs in the last three days of life. The presence of these signs strongly suggests that death will occur in the next three days. However, absence of these signs does not suggest that death will not occur.”

Some signs seemed to be more common than others, with some occurring among just 5 percent of the patients while others were seen among nearly 80 percent during the last three days of life, according to the study.

Hui also cautioned that there will always be exceptions to the rule, and his team’s list will not cover all situations. Exceptions, he said, would include cases of sudden death or when intensive care unit patients are breathing by means of mechanical ventilation.

Dr. R. Sean Morrison is director of the Lilian and Benjamin Hertzberg Palliative Care Institute at the Mount Sinai Icahn School of Medicine in New York City. He said that, while doctors are already very familiar with signs of impending death, the list could be very helpful for families struggling to come to grips with a disorienting set of circumstances.

“Within the palliative care community, this is very well understood,” Morrison noted. “And this is certainly not just about cancer. This would apply to anyone dying of heart disease, lung disease or even dementia, because the symptoms that are identified in this cancer population are almost universal for anyone approaching the end of life.

“But from a clinical perspective as physicians, I don’t think this list will prove terribly helpful,” he added. “Because what we’re talking about here is really people hours from death who really can’t respond or are not interactive or are essentially in a coma approaching death. So I would hope and expect that by this point a discussion of patient goals and family needs would have already taken place, long before, along with any decisions about blood tests and treatments.”

Still, Morrison said the list could be “helpful for the family, and for helping us guide families. Because one of the things that families wrestle with is how long do I have with my loved one? And we’re not always that good at predicting that. So this may help give families a time frame for knowing how long the vigil is going to be.”

Complete Article HERE!

Preparing Yourself or a Loved One to Die at Home

by Ray Burow

Death is not a fun topic, but failing to talk about end-of-life plans results in a lack of preparation and exacerbates emotional strain when a loved one passes away at home.

If your loved one opts to live out their final days in their house, or if you care for an elderly spouse or parent who’s in the advanced stages of Alzheimer’s disease, they could die at home. Are you prepared? What are your loved one’s end-of-life wishes? Would they choose to pass away at home? Is hospice care an option, or is a hospital setting a better choice for your circumstances? Medicare often pays for hospice care.

Why some people prefer to die at home

Passing away at home is often preferred by critically ill or older individuals. According to the Stanford School of Medicine, studies indicate that 80% of Americans would choose to pass from this life surrounded by what’s familiar to them, preferably at home. However, many don’t get their wish. Only 20% of Americans die at home, while 60% die in acute care hospitals and 20% die in nursing homes.

People prefer to die at home for various reasons, but perhaps control is a primary contributor. The family can manage who comes and goes, providing an opportunity to gather, reminisce, and properly say goodbye. Caregivers administer palliative care in a comfortable, familiar environment rather than one that is foreign and starkly sterile.

Hospice care will assist with pain management, and no heroic actions are taken to resuscitate the patient, who is allowed to slip away. Depending on the laws in your state, you may be able to keep the body at the house for a period of time, and some families may choose to have the funeral at home, too.

How to prepare for a death at home

Preparing to die at home is a process that must occur before the person’s final days. If you or a loved one has been diagnosed with dementia, it is essential to decide in the early days of the condition, while the decision is still yours to make. Caregivers and loved ones, acting as surrogates, can carry out your wishes, but only when they know what they are.

Advance directive

An advance health directive is crucial to securing end-of-life wishes. It’s a legal document containing the patient’s desires. If the patient is incapacitated, the document expresses their values regarding end-of-life processes. These include whether first responders and healthcare professionals will administer CPR, if the patient will donate organs, and what comfort measures will be in place during the dying process.

When a person dies at home unexpectedly and without an advance directive, first responders typically can’t pronounce them dead, as required by law. Paramedics transport the remains to the nearest hospital emergency room, where a doctor will pronounce them. If hospice is in place, the hospice nurse can pronounce the person’s death at home, and the family arranges for a funeral home to remove the remains.

Without hospice, a living will, or an advance directive, the family must call emergency services when their loved one dies at home. Paramedics, possibly firefighters, and police officers will arrive at your home, but only a doctor or coroner can pronounce death.

Understand that without the proper documents in hand, paramedics have to follow protocol and will often begin administering emergency procedures and transport your loved one to a hospital where a doctor with authority to pronounce can do so. There are exceptions to this rule depending on where you live, and in some cases, paramedics are permitted to pronounce.

Following death

Some states require an autopsy when a person dies at home. If the deceased was advanced in age, an autopsy might not be necessary. In either case, you must make arrangements for transportation to a funeral home or crematorium. Don’t be shy to ask about cost. Funeral homes are required by law to provide that information when requested.

There is much more to preparing for death at home than what we can briefly discuss in this column, including the emotional and spiritual aspects and mourning through the grieving process. Mourning is necessary and healthy, and it’s futile to try and skip it. Grief will rise to meet you in unexpected places and at random times. A grief counselor, pastor, trusted friend, or family member can help you through the mourning process. You don’t need to mourn alone.

Complete Article HERE!

Death, Dying and Suffering

— The Need for Medical Education Reform

by and

As she closed the door behind her, the palliative care geriatrician whom I (Meghan) was shadowing turned and said, “Remember, there are no difficult patients – just difficult situations.” We walked to our next patient, Mrs. C, who was suffering from congestive heart failure. All cures had been exhausted and she was tired of being at the hospital but was scared to enter hospice care. The doctor clasped hands with Mrs. C and explained that starting hospice did not mean giving up — it meant living life on her own terms in the time that was left. After these discussions, Mrs. C appeared more at ease and decided to pursue hospice care at her home.

During this and other palliative care consults, I saw how terminal illness could raise tough questions with patients, families and their providers. However, I also saw that working through these discussions could minimize suffering, give patients a sense of hope and allow them to make the most of their time remaining. Unfortunately, most medical students and doctors report feeling ill-equipped to have conversations about end-of-life care with patients. In this article, we will examine a provider’s role in validating the illness experience and describe how formal medical training on death, dying and suffering can equip physicians to provide better patient care.

According to medical humanist and physician, Eric Cassel, suffering can be defined as a state of distress that occurs when a person’s “intactness … as a complex social and psychological entity” is threatened. Suffering can occur when pain is uncontrollable, chronic or when its source is unknown. Patients may suffer and feel helpless when experiencing such pain due to a lack of perceived control or knowledge of how to relieve it. However, physical pain is just one aspect; there are also psychological, existential and social dimensions that can exacerbate suffering. I (Leonard) lived through this complex experience of suffering secondary to a debilitating illness when I was 19. I had an unusual Clostridioides difficile (C. diff) infection lasting several weeks which was so severe that it caused me to lose 15 pounds. During this period, I felt the uncertainty, vulnerability and alienation associated with being sick. Because it was so rare for a healthy, immunocompetent individual like myself to contract C. diff, it took a week and a half before my doctors were able to diagnose the medical origin of my suffering. To make matters worse, I felt that the doctors cared more about my atypical case of C. diff than about me as a human. Being solely viewed as an “interesting presentation of disease” invalidated my experience and caused me to suffer beyond the pathogenesis of the bacterial infection.

Physicians must work with their patients to identify the underlying and often complex sources of distress. Once a culprit has been identified, a physician can help the patient manage the aspects of distress which they can control, reframe their perceptions and interpretations of the aspects that they can’t control, and ultimately, reassure them that the distress will eventually end. In essence, physicians can empower patients to take control over their distress, thus reducing their suffering.

Regardless of their chosen medical specialty, physicians will inevitably confront death, dying and suffering during their education, training and career. However, due to the curricular gaps in our current medical education system, future physicians are underprepared to hold such conversations with their patients. Indeed, one survey of medical students at two prominent medical schools reported that students received “little or no explicit educational attention to the suffering of patients and their families” or for the clinical management of suffering. Instead, the students learned these clinical skills primarily by ad hoc observation of role models. While ad hoc observation can be a powerful learning method, it could be much more effective when used in tandem with more formal instruction. Not only does this unpreparedness result in suboptimal care, but it may even harm patients, who can suffer more from not feeling heard, validated or supported when discussing their illness with providers.

Medical school curricula should be formalized to teach students how to face suffering and death in clinical practice. We advocate for a longitudinal educational approach: first, incorporating curricula on suffering and death in didactic pre-clinical education will afford students the opportunity to learn foundational concepts, such as how to address suffering and openly discuss death, in a safe space. Secondly, to maximize student learning in the pre-clinical years, lived experience panels and group discussions following the panels may also prove useful; composed of people who have direct, firsthand experience with a particular topic, lived experience panels offer a personal lens through which to view the issue. For suffering and death education, lived experience panels may include patients with terminal illnesses (and their families), palliative care specialists and people living with chronic diseases.

At the University of Texas Medical Branch, we attended such panels during one of our first-year medical courses and found them to be profoundly insightful. These panels deepened our understanding of what patients and families had experienced and demonstrated how providers could better acknowledge and support patients’ needs. Early exposure to formalized curricula on suffering and death through lived experience panels will encourage budding physicians to inquire about their patients’ values throughout all stages of their lives.

Patients deserve to live their lives with dignity. From our experiences, we understand that suffering may interfere with this and cause patients to lose hope. Medical education must address death and suffering early so that such conversations are normalized amongst medical students by the time that they reach the clinical years. By incorporating more instruction on how to acknowledge distress and suffering in medical school curriculum and by learning directly from patients and families, future physicians will be able to work with patients to find the best balance between quantity and quality of life.

Complete Article HERE!

First ever recording of moment someone dies reveals what our last thoughts may be

Does your life really flash before your eyes when you die?

By

What happens when we die?

Scientists may finally be in a position to answer that question after they recorded the brain waves of a patient as her life ended.

Crucially, they didn’t set out to capture this data – instead it ocurred by happenstance.

Researchers in the United States were running an electroencephalogram (EEG) on an 87-year-old man who suffered from epilepsy.

An EEG measures the electrical activity of your brain and, in this case, was being used to detect the onset of seizures.

However, during the treatment, the patient had a heart attack and died.

As such, the scientists were able to record 15 minutes of brain activity around his death. And what they found was extremely interesting.

Focusing on the 30 seconds either side of the moment the patient’s heart stopped beating, they detected an increase in brain waves known as gamma oscillations.

These waves are also involved in activities such as meditation, memory retrieval and dreaming.

We can’t say for sure whether dying people really do see their life flash before their eyes, but this particualar study seems to support the idea.

And the scientists say the brain is capable of co-ordinated activity for a short period even after the blood stops flowing through it.

‘Through generating oscillations involved in memory retrieval, the brain may be playing a last recall of important life events just before we die, similar to the ones reported in near-death experiences,’ said Dr. Ajmal Zemmar, lead author of the study, which was published in the journal Frontiers in Ageing Neuroscience.

‘These findings challenge our understanding of when exactly life ends and generate important subsequent questions, such as those related to the timing of organ donation.’

In the study, the researchers point out that similar changes in brainwaves have been detected in rats at the time of death.

However, this is the first time it’s been seen in a human.

Dr. Zemmar and his team say that further research needs to be done before drawing any definite conclusions.

This study arises from data relating to just a single case study. And the patient’s brain had already been injured and was showing unusual activity related to epilepsy.

It’s not clear if the same results would occur in a different person’s brain at the time of death.

‘Something we may learn from this research is: although our loved ones have their eyes closed and are ready to leave us to rest, their brains may be replaying some of the nicest moments they experienced in their lives,’ Dr. Zemmar said.

Complete Article HERE!

My dad’s final days

By Ken Dychtwald, Ph.D.

I grew up in the 1950s and ’60s in a mostly blue-collar community in Newark, New Jersey. My father, Seymour, was a fiercely hardworking guy who wanted to be successful. For him, work wasn’t about “finding his bliss,” it was about being a responsible husband and father. His dad had skipped out on him, his siblings and mother for almost 10 years during the Depression. In contrast, my dad was a reliable family man and wanted our family to live the American dream.

Ultimately, Dad rose from selling clothing and home furnishings out of the back of his truck to owning and operating a successful chain of women’s clothing stores. In their mid-60s, my folks retired and relocated to Florida.

Throughout my life, Dad and I had a loving but feisty relationship. He was very opinionated (I guess I am, too) and was skeptical of many of my lifestyle and career moves—from moving to California, from studying physics to the field of psychology and then to gerontology. But he had great love for my family and he eventually developed a deep respect for what I made of myself.

In the 1990s, my father started to lose his vision and with it, control over much of his life. Sadly, Alzheimer’s was also chiseling away at my mother’s mind. Dad loved Mom so much that he railed against the dissolution of her memory and her mind. He got depressed and angry.

“If I die before Mom, she’ll struggle terribly, and if she dies before me, I’ll go crazy. Just as we’ve lived together, we want to die together,” he said. That was quite a lot for me to digest.

One night, he asked me, “If I take my own life and Mom’s, would that be brave or cowardly?”

I said, “I don’t know, Dad. If I was in your situation, I can’t imagine what I’d think or do.”

So, for almost a year, every night I’d go to sleep not knowing if my parents would be alive in the morning.

In 2013, my brother Alan called me in a state of distress to report that our dad’s blood sugar was going haywire. And to make things worse, he’d lost his balance and fallen on his face, giving himself a big gash on his forehead. Alan was already on his way to Florida. I packed my bags and headed east.

Dad’s doctor admitted him to intensive care. He had internal bleeding and had suffered a heart attack. When he realized that his boys were there for him, he called out to us: “What’s going on? Get me out of here!”

Dad settled down a bit, and Alan and I went to see our mom. Later that night, the phone rang. It was Dad pleading with us to rescue him. 

We shot back to the hospital and went into our anguished father’s room. His arms, chest, face and hair were covered with blood because he kept pulling out his IV lines. In the morning, after a torturous night for both my dad and brother, and a sad night for me and for my confused mother, I returned to the hospital. Alan and I asked: “Dad, what do you want?”

“I’m scared,” he said, “but I know this: I’ve lived my whole life on my own two feet, and I’m not going out on my hands and knees. Please help me bring this to an end.”

Shortly after, Alan and I met with Dad’s physician. He was a kind and decent man who asked us if we wanted our dad to remain in intensive care or if we preferred to shift him to hospice car
Were we going to battle to keep Dad alive for a few more days, albeit in a ghastly, ghoulish fashion? Or were we prepared to make him comfortable and allow him to die a good death? 

What would he want us to do?

We had Dad transferred to the hospice floor, where the nurses and aides removed all the wires and tubes, lovingly sponged all of the blood off him and even gave him a shave and combed his hair. They asked him what his favorite music was and then put on Frank Sinatra.

Next, they began a low dose of morphine to ease his anxiety. My wife and kids all dropped what they were doing to fly to Florida and be with him.

As I contemplated the end of my father’s life, I reflected that even though we had often butted heads, there was not one instance in my entire life when he wasn’t there for me when I truly needed him.

I wanted to show Dad proper respect and kindness, but not knowing how I should handle the situation with my dad nearing his death, I called one of my closest friends, Stuart Pellman, who had already dealt with the death of both of his parents.

He wisely told me, “Get one-on-one time with your dad. Even if he’s unconscious, tell him you love him, ask him to forgive you for anything you may have ever done to trouble him. Tell him you forgive him for anything he might have ever done to upset you, and then tell him you’ll always remember him.”

And that’s what I did.

Dad and I held each other for a long while, and then I left the room and allowed my brother some privacy to do the same.

Later that night, after the other members of my family had gone home, I joined my dad for a very intense and private conversation.

I said, “Dad, you’ve never asked me what I think happens when a person dies.”

“I’d like to know what you think about that, Kenny,” he responded. “Because I’ve begun to see my brothers and sister and they’re reaching out to me.”

My dad had no religious beliefs, but I had some. So I said, “Dad, I don’t know this for sure, but I believe when a person passes, there is another plane that presents itself. In that place are all the people you have known and loved.”

As I began to describe this, he started to cry. Then he turned toward me and told me he was ready.

I asked him if I could record the rest of our exchange on my phone so I could always have it to watch when I missed him. He said okay, and this is what transpired:

Ken: “Dad, you know that what’s going to be next is going to be beautiful and your vision’s going to be back and you’re going to be a young man again.”

Dad: “I’m ready for that, Kenny.”

Ken: “And you know we all love you, and you’ve always loved us.”

Dad: “I know it, Kenny.”

Ken: “So, what you’ll need to do is let go and not worry about anything because everything is going to be looked after. All we need is for you to be relaxed and calm and just drift off into the white light. Can you do that, Dad?”

Dad: “Absolutely.”

Ken: “I love you, Pops.”

Dad: “I love you, Kenny.”

My father died peacefully that night. With help from all of us, he went out on his own two feet.

Ultimately, even with all his frustration and anger, my dad died a good death. At the end, his pain was minimal. His mind was calm. He found a way to think about leaving his body as not being frightening. And although he had been blind for years, at the very end, he began to describe beautiful waterfalls, flowers, birds and castles.

When my time comes, I hope that my wife Maddy will kiss me goodbye and at least one of my kids—maybe even both—will be there to lovingly guide me out of my body.

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