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Waiting to die
"Let me die in peace and not in pieces." These words were found scribbled on a notepad, among the property of my father after he died. They clearly sum up his fear of the days and weeks that led up to his inevitable death from terminal cancer.
Can you imagine what it must feel like to be told that you are dying? Nobody can tell you exactly how and when you will die. But you have to painfully witness your body being taken over by disease, losing all control of your life and for some, the total loss of dignity. |  |
My father kept a very detailed diary of the last 11 months of his life. He wanted me to be able to help others through my work, so that his experience of death could be shared and perhaps make a difference to other people who may be diagnosed with a terminal illness. Healthcare workers do their best to always help those who are dying, but are they always able to give the emotional support that is required?
My father believed, despite endless amounts of reassurance, that the dying process would be one of sheer suffering. The fear was not particularly one of being in pain, but one of losing all ability to function as a human being, of being a burden to others, and wondering what part of the body would fail next.
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Each appointment and test brought huge anxiety about whether the cancer would be running wild, or whether a few more weeks or months could be gained. But deep down I believe my father really knew when he wrote the words “I believe there are clear signs that whatever is going on in my lungs is worsening. This is very hard to come to terms with but all I can ask for is time to put everything in order…. |
This is a very difficult period for me since not knowing appears to be worse than knowing the truth.” It certainly is a very hard thing to come to terms with. Even as a nurse I knew exactly what was happening and was always one stage ahead, knowing what lay around the corner. But do you just give up all hope and turn your back to the world, or do you try to find quality in those last few weeks and months. I believe my father left me a true gift when he agreed to write this diary, because through my work others can have a glimpse into the world of a dying man, and perhaps make a difference to someone else’s life. At times there was doubt in his mind when he wrote, “I sometimes ask myself why I am writing this diary when I have never attempted to keep one in the whole of my life. It is not as though I am doing anything interesting or have anything really to say about the human condition. True there is a little information as to what my thoughts and feelings are but in the main it is just repetitive living and of little interest to anyone but me.” Personally I believe his work has already allowed many people to have a great insight into the feelings and emotions associated with the dying process.
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Hospitals can certainly worsen any fears that may be present. Sadly for a terminal ill patient to witness a death that was anything but peaceful, can be extremely traumatic, leaving them to wonder “what kind of society is it that permits this kind of suffering?”. Hearing another patient repeat over and over again “Dr, Dr, please don’t go away I am dying, I am dying” left my father “thinking that if you were a dog they would shoot you.” Hours later that patient died. |  |
There are many hours to contemplate life, as you lie in bed too ill to lead any sort of active life. You have time to sort out all your affairs, say everything you want to say and time to say goodbye. Some days I wondered how many times I could keep saying goodbye. But that inevitable day came. My father died very peacefully in the hospice, where his dignity was maintained and any suffering was extremely well managed with medication. In the final hours of his life the suffering was felt by the rest of the family, who, unlike me, did not know what to expect.
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Life was so beautifully summed up when my father wrote “How quickly life flows and when you are younger you just cannot understand just how short it really is. When you are in my situation the realization finally dawns upon one, but then it is too late”.
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