It mattered to me... the flow of my parents' transitioning into death, and that everyone in the picture was on the same page as to 'what' exactly was happening. The 'what', in our death phobic culture, being DYING. Dying was happening. It is happening for all of us, and yet for many, it is actively happening, and quickly.
There was a bit of a hiccup in this flow when my Mom was approaching the end of her life. It rubbed me, and gave me a prickly sensation. I listen to those direct body sensations. The rub came when the doctor suggested that Mom be on the list for a long-term care facility, when to us and from what we were seeing, Mom was clearly showing signs that she would never make it as long as the waiting lists were... 3-6 weeks. Mom's doctor was so confused as to why Mom wasn't on a list and made a big deal about it and even came down on the home-care people, who obviously saw what we saw and didn't encourage us to put Mom on a list. It was confusing and created some self-doubt for us during a time when that's the last thing we needed.
Mom declined very quickly after that interaction and it wasn't an issue anymore, and her Doctor slipped off the scene, and we didn't see her visit Mom again during the last week of her life. I guess she finally recognized that long-term care was scratched off the list.
I knew deep in my heart it was never on the list, and I have a bit of resentment around the doctor's push to instill false hope. That's what it felt like to me. Like Mom's decline was not being honoured and recognized by her own doctor, who she became quite attached to because it is so hard to get in as a new patient with a young doctor in Camrose. And then when it's clear that there is no life-saving happening, the doctor disappears. There is a gap in this scenario.
It is interesting, because after having such an up-close and personal time with Dad during his dying, the signs became very clear to us as Mom progressed. I understand that it is within the Hippocratic Oath for doctors to save lives, and if they were not so attached to that commitment, and used their gut instincts, they may consider a more graceful approach with their dying patients, and certainly a more graceful exit from the scene. My Dad's doctor was intuitive enough to call me directly on my cell phone the day before he died, to wish me her condolences. I only met her once the whole time I was at the Cross Cancer Institute, and spent more time with her fill-in, who was there until the last day and was very sincere about what was happening with Dad. So, there are some who use their gut, and I do appreciate their work within the medical system. The gap might also be filled with more spiritual / grief counselors... who could be there when family couldn't, and who may have some guidance about moving through pain, letting go of attachments, reaching a place of forgiveness and coming more into a space of love as death approaches. They could sit with family members and caretakers as well, for support and guidance.
So, in a culture that is NOT so rooted in hope and life-supporting methods and care, what would it look like when someone you love is dying? I believe you could BE anywhere... home, hospital, outdoors... and as long as everyone was on the same page with their gut instincts and the dying process was accepted and understood as the current path to travel, then do everything possible to facilitate that process as a dying process. Not as a life-saving process, or a 'no, don't leave me' process. Be there...surrender, witness, share stories, share love, cry tears of grief, sing a song or call in some bedside singers, play beautiful music on the CD player, laugh, hold hands, rub shoulders and foreheads, and listen, listen, listen.
With love to you, I leave you with a song, for soul food and tears...
~Mamaleah
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