When the Doctor Calls

 

Do you know what a loved one will want if they suddenly get really sick?

When my mother was told she had six months to live we talked about what she wanted in terms of treatment. In the event that she was not able to speak for herself, I knew exactly what she would want. She had a plan and I knew how to follow it.

Do you know what you or a loved one would want in terms of medical care if something happens?

My mother lived for 18 months following that initial prognosis.  She did pretty well for a while and then the inexorable decline started to accelerate, and she transitioned from home to hospice, back to home and finally to the hospital wing of a rest home facility. I had power of attorney for her welfare and so did everything I could to ensure that she got the pathway through it all that she had wanted.

Dad went into rest home care after mum died. Then he moved to a secure dementia unit. Then at Christmas time he had a stroke and was moved to the hospital wing of the rest home he is in. They look after him so well. They are amazing, and he is not always easy. His path is up and down.

It is about an hour or so round trip to see him, which I do a few times a week. Most of his friends do not visit him anymore because they are faced with the discomfort of his decline. The less other people go see him, the more I go to see him. He can’t talk very well but he is still aware. I try to shield him from the absence of friendships.

Then. Last Friday. I got the call.  The call from the doctor that requires you to make choices; potentially life or death choices, about the care options for your loved one. It was at this moment that I realised that Dad and I did not really have a plan.

I have tried a few times over the past few years to get Dad to talk about what he would want in terms of treatment, how he would like to be sent off after he died, what messages he would want passed on to his family or friends. But, like so many people, he has pretty much refused to talk about it. This meant I had to piece together comments he has made at different times over the past couple of years in order to try to think in his shoes.

No matter how hard it may be to get a loved one to talk about what they want, while they can, it is easy compared to the agony of having to make choices when you are not sure what that person truly wants. 

What I learned on Friday when the doctor rang was that no matter how hard it may be to get a loved one to talk about what they want, while they can, that is easy compared to the agony of having to make choices when you are not sure what that person truly wants. So, people, if you have read this far, my message to you is ‘get a plan’.  You need a plan. The reality is you never know when you may need it. Honestly, it is agony if you don’t have one and nothing had prepared me for the ethical crisis I faced with that call. I believe that compassionate care at the end of life works both ways, for the one leaving and for those left behind. I think we owe it to each other to make this as easy to navigate as possible.

So, what happened next? I was able to speak to dad about his situation and he was able to give me thumbs down to having any treatment. I realised how lucky I was to even get this sign. I didn’t have to make the decision on my own. Others are not so lucky. The first couple of days were rocky but as things are at the moment, he seems to be improving. A cold that was turning into pneumonia seems to have stalled and his temperature is down, and he is more alert. Well, by that I mean alert for a man with dementia. Yesterday I asked him if he was feeling better and he gave me the thumbs up.

This is what life is now. Up and down. Up and down. The rush to the bedside. The preparation for the end. The reprieve. The sorrow of seeing someone you love in such an incapacitated state. The relief of not having to say goodbye just yet. The wishes for their freedom. Good days, bad days. Thumbs up. Thumbs down. Exhaustion. In all this unknowing, the thing I know now is that the transition from wellness, to illness, to death is so much better navigated with a plan.

Here is my checklist for caring for the seriously ill and the dying that I am learning from my own experience with my parents:

  1. Make sure you have Enduring Power of Attorney for Welfare and Property sorted out well before there is any sort of problem.
  2. Talk about what the person wants in terms of care, treatment etc. This does not have to be negative – it is a beautiful opportunity to really understand and listen to a loved one’s needs (and to express your own). I cannot emphasize how important this conversation is.
  3. Find out if they would want to be resuscitated or not and get it written down – a living will can be witnessed with their solicitor and kept on file with them and with their GP. My mother found this act very empowering.
  4. Find out how they would like to be sent off, what is their favourite piece of music, or poetry or place where their ashes may be scattered. Do they want a ceremony? A natural burial? A shroud, a coffin, both?
  5. Approach all of this with ‘beginners mind’ – don’t allow your preconceived perceptions to influence discussions.
  6. Write it all down and put it somewhere you can find it!
  7. Remember that doing this will help families navigate the tough stuff, because you can pretty much guarantee that the stuff will get tough.

I hope this helps. Archeus has grown out of responding to the needs of people through different transitions. We are a small business that is informed by, and responds to, real life. If you are dealing with the needs of a loved one who is seriously ill or dying you may find comfort in our Plant Essences and Elixirs, our Anointing Oils, our Energy Medicine sessions and maybe even our botanically infused burial shrouds. Later in 2018 we plan to run workshops helping people with compassionate care for end of life needs.


8 comments

  • Thanks for sharing G – very powerful. I need to sort out a will as much as I will need to have this chat with my folks at some stage (dad being 88 and still going strong).

    Stephen Westwood
  • Beautifully written George. Sharing your insight at this very vulnerable time is a gift. Sending you love as you continue to navigate this journey with empathy and courage. Helen x

    Helen Stewart
  • Hello Georgina, So sorry to hear what you are going through, and no, it isn’t easy and having the distances to travel doesn’t help either. I know exactly what you mean. I have never got to see your dad and am sorry about that but I am not as mobile as I used to be. I think your comments above are very good and should help some people who don’t really know just what to do. It is so good that the parent is able to join the conversation about what they would like to happen even if it is only a thumbs up or down. All the best and will be thinking of you, Shirley Hay

    Shirley Hay
  • Darling George, thank you for writing this. It is generous of you to share what you have learnt with the world whilst learning the hard way. It seems a taboo and embarrassing subject, it feels somehow disrespectful to us to bring up someones death with them, as if it cant bear thining about. But it is in fact completely the opposite. And I thank you for having the right words at the right time… as I head back to the UK in a few weeks to celebrate an 80th birthday, and to create conversations about ourplans for Dad. I will have your checklist with me. I feel and share in your pain and I am on the end of the phone if you need someoneto express to. Lots of love

    Ella Flack
  • Thankyou for sharing the journey so far. I’m thankful you and your dad are finding a way through but such a hard time of life, watching and supporting our parents through this stage of their lives. As visits from friends slowed for my mum in her lengthy time in care with sever dementia it really broke my heart though I also understood. I’m so very grateful I was able to be present and support her at the end of her time. I Love and miss my mum.
    So challenging in life to be there as much as you wish to be as daughter. Much strength to you.

    Steph

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