This is a somewhat gloomy topic: approaching death then dying. Not to worry -- it's just topics to be considered.
A few months back my cousin died. Rather quickly and (for me) unexpectedly. Despite the rush, his immediate family gathered -- one from half way round the world -- with time to say goodbye. His wife, now widow, was glad of that. Which made me think...
Do I want my family round my bedside watching me die?
I mentioned this to Deb. Thought about it. No, not really, I told Deb. No need for the family to watch me die.
We're lucky, our kids live close, close enough that we see them most weekends. No need for a final -- at the final knell -- farewell. I'm sure there will be hugs and warm (but manly) handshakes when it seems certain that I'm nearly dead. If I need more comfort than that then it's probably painkillers that I need rather than emotional comfort.
If anyone wants to be there, okay. Anyone who doesn't want to watch, okay. Your choice, whatever will make you feel better. If I grizzle, that's just me. Then I die and all is forgiven … forgotten … no longer relevant.
Deb, though, will need looking after. Others, to their needs. Then get on with living.
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But what about final words? What if I have some last-minute wisdom to leave to the world? Well, if I haven't covered it in 400-plus pages of blog, too bad. And if you didn't listen to my words of wisdom the first half-dozen times, too bad again :-)
I know that I would not like to watch someone die. I can grieve quite adequately without having been an actual witness. And when it comes to the point, I'm sure I'll be able to die with or without company.
If it turns out to be messy or painful or prolonged, I expect that I would rather not have witnesses. Though I'm not there yet, so I can't be absolutely sure...
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Why document this today? I was checking the ABC news site and it lead to several articles about people dying. Dying at home was the theme, that's another iffy point...
If I have any say in it, I'd like to be at home for as long as possible. The actual death, it doesn't really matter.
How would Deb like it if I die in the marital bed? Yuk! (Hint to kids: a new bed may be a good present.)
If I *can* have a say, dying at home sounds good -- for me. If I'm past sensible conversation -- it doesn't matter where I die. Anyway, as long as death is really really close, I doubt that I will really care about where I am.
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Then the articles lead to discussion of what people want for their last gasps. Do I (for example) want to be resuscitated if I am nothing more than a drooling vegetable? (Not really.) I download a "living will" form (it has a different name, I forget what). I read through the form. With no intention of filling it in. (Not yet, anyway!)
And you know what? I now feel quite cheerful. Just like writing this blog: I consider the facts, the options -- and feel better for having considered "the worst". So much better that I stop lying around and start doing things.
Of course it could be that I've rested long enough... Even I can't sleep all day and every day... Time to stop claiming post-chemo exhaustion :-)
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And now our aged cat has peed on the floor. Sheesh! so much for my attempt at good cheer. Sigh...
Dr Nick Lethbridge / Consulting Dexitroboper
... Agamedes Consulting / Problems ? Solved
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"Why be difficult? Be impossible." … Ginger Meggs
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I reckon going in your sleep is as good as it gets. Provided one is very old.
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