| ozarque ( @ 2007-01-18 08:53:00 |
Death and dying; part seven....
I went Googling for definitions and discussions of the concept of "a good death," and found a great deal of material, including this paragraph from a British Medical Journal editorial by Richard Smith (titled "Death, come closer"), at http://www.bmj.com/cgi/content/full/3 27/7408/0-f :
"What is clear from reading this theme issue on a good death is that one size won't fit all. We want to be as different in dying as in living. Different cultures, times, and religions have different concepts of a good death. Some want it sudden, some slow. Some want a quiet death with minimal medical involvement. Others want to follow Dylan Thomas and 'rage, rage against the dying of the light,' squeezing every last drop from life."
This is surely true; there seems to be no way to construct a consensus definition of a good death that will work for every individual in every culture. I thought, therefore, that what I'd do in this post is describe what I would consider a good death for my own self, if I had a choice in the matter, just as an example.
I have two personal advantages in this context. It is of course possible that as the years go by some dementia or other medical misadventure will take them both away from me, but at the moment I have them. The first is my firm religious faith, which includes an absolute belief in an afterlife (and in eternal life) and an absolute disbelief in the existence of any form of "Hell" in that afterlife. The second advantage I have is that I've been through childbirth four times -- I'm already very familiar with a physical process that is natural, that is going to happen for sure whether you like it or not, that cannot be reversed once it begins, that is going to be messy and to some degree uncomfortable, and that has nevertheless all four times had a happy ending. These two things make it possible for me to accept the prospect of death and dying with a certain amount of serenity, and they let me reject that Dylan Thomas version in the quotation.
Suppose I knew that I was dying....
I would keep that information to myself for as long as I possibly could. For me, two or three days of the "saying goodbye" process are plenty, and I believe that dragging it out only causes needless pain for those left behind.
I would do everything possible to avoid going into a hospital. I realize that I might be unable to prevent that, but I would do my best. And if in spite of my efforts I did find myself in a hospital I would do everything I could to refuse any medical heroics or interventions to delay my death, and everything I could to accept only palliative care. I have gone out of my way to make sure that my doctor, my lawyer, and all my family members know that that's what I want, and the moment I arrived at any hospital I would start making sure that every hospital staffer I encountered was made aware that that's what I want.
If I perceived that staying at home to die -- my preference -- was going to become a burden for my family or other caregivers, I would go into a hospice if that was available as an option. If that wasn't an option, I would stop eating -- which would simplify matters -- and do everything I could to make that burden less.
I would spend my final days and hours in music, reading, walking (if I were able to walk), meditation, and prayer, at home or in hospice -- with the members of my household who wanted to be with me allowed to be there, and those who preferred not to be with me not expected to be. And at the end, I would hope to have strength enough not to make a fuss.
With all that said, I have to take a great deal of it back if I am to be totally honest. Suppose I really were in complete control of my death and dying: I would choose an appropriate time and place, I would simply walk away to the chosen place at the chosen time, and I would sit down there and die. Without making a fuss. If I thought I could do that, it's what I would do. In contrast to a good death, which I hope for, I would call that a "best" death. I set that option aside only because I believe that it's probably impossible for the average human being to do that, and I am very much an average human being.
Notes
1. All the articles in the special issue of BMJ are available free on links at the end of the editorial.
2. See also "Defining a good death" -- which provides a number of links to other resources -- at http://dying.about.com/b/a/000137.h tm .
I went Googling for definitions and discussions of the concept of "a good death," and found a great deal of material, including this paragraph from a British Medical Journal editorial by Richard Smith (titled "Death, come closer"), at http://www.bmj.com/cgi/content/full/3
"What is clear from reading this theme issue on a good death is that one size won't fit all. We want to be as different in dying as in living. Different cultures, times, and religions have different concepts of a good death. Some want it sudden, some slow. Some want a quiet death with minimal medical involvement. Others want to follow Dylan Thomas and 'rage, rage against the dying of the light,' squeezing every last drop from life."
This is surely true; there seems to be no way to construct a consensus definition of a good death that will work for every individual in every culture. I thought, therefore, that what I'd do in this post is describe what I would consider a good death for my own self, if I had a choice in the matter, just as an example.
I have two personal advantages in this context. It is of course possible that as the years go by some dementia or other medical misadventure will take them both away from me, but at the moment I have them. The first is my firm religious faith, which includes an absolute belief in an afterlife (and in eternal life) and an absolute disbelief in the existence of any form of "Hell" in that afterlife. The second advantage I have is that I've been through childbirth four times -- I'm already very familiar with a physical process that is natural, that is going to happen for sure whether you like it or not, that cannot be reversed once it begins, that is going to be messy and to some degree uncomfortable, and that has nevertheless all four times had a happy ending. These two things make it possible for me to accept the prospect of death and dying with a certain amount of serenity, and they let me reject that Dylan Thomas version in the quotation.
Suppose I knew that I was dying....
I would keep that information to myself for as long as I possibly could. For me, two or three days of the "saying goodbye" process are plenty, and I believe that dragging it out only causes needless pain for those left behind.
I would do everything possible to avoid going into a hospital. I realize that I might be unable to prevent that, but I would do my best. And if in spite of my efforts I did find myself in a hospital I would do everything I could to refuse any medical heroics or interventions to delay my death, and everything I could to accept only palliative care. I have gone out of my way to make sure that my doctor, my lawyer, and all my family members know that that's what I want, and the moment I arrived at any hospital I would start making sure that every hospital staffer I encountered was made aware that that's what I want.
If I perceived that staying at home to die -- my preference -- was going to become a burden for my family or other caregivers, I would go into a hospice if that was available as an option. If that wasn't an option, I would stop eating -- which would simplify matters -- and do everything I could to make that burden less.
I would spend my final days and hours in music, reading, walking (if I were able to walk), meditation, and prayer, at home or in hospice -- with the members of my household who wanted to be with me allowed to be there, and those who preferred not to be with me not expected to be. And at the end, I would hope to have strength enough not to make a fuss.
With all that said, I have to take a great deal of it back if I am to be totally honest. Suppose I really were in complete control of my death and dying: I would choose an appropriate time and place, I would simply walk away to the chosen place at the chosen time, and I would sit down there and die. Without making a fuss. If I thought I could do that, it's what I would do. In contrast to a good death, which I hope for, I would call that a "best" death. I set that option aside only because I believe that it's probably impossible for the average human being to do that, and I am very much an average human being.
Notes
1. All the articles in the special issue of BMJ are available free on links at the end of the editorial.
2. See also "Defining a good death" -- which provides a number of links to other resources -- at http://dying.about.com/b/a/000137.h