Wednesday, April 26, 2017
Friday, April 14, 2017
Wind Telephone – Ōtsuchi-chō, Japan - Atlas Obscura
Thursday, April 13, 2017
In the early weeks after Dave died, I was shocked when I’d see friends who did not ask how I was doing. I felt invisible, as if I were standing in front of them but they couldn’t see me. When someone shows up with a cast, we immediately inquire, “What happened?” If your life is shattered, we don’t.
People continually avoided the subject. I went to a close friend’s house for dinner, and she and her husband made small talk the entire time. I listened, mystified, keeping my thoughts to myself. I got emails from friends asking me to fly to their cities to speak at their events without acknowledging that travel might be more difficult for me now. Oh, it’s just an overnight? Sure, I’ll see if Dave can come back to life and put the kids to bed.
I ran into friends at local parks who talked about the weather. Yes! The weather has been weird with all this rain and death.
Many people who had not experienced loss, even some very close friends, didn’t know what to say to me or my kids. Their discomfort was palpable, especially in contrast to our previous ease. As the elephant in the room went unacknowledged, it started acting up, trampling over my relationships. If friends didn’t ask how I was doing, did that mean they didn’t care? My friend and co-author Adam Grant, a psychologist, said he was certain that people wanted to talk about it but didn’t know how. I was less sure. Friends were asking, “How are you?” but I took this as more of a standard greeting than a genuine question. I wanted to scream back, “My husband just died, how do you think I am?” I didn’t know how to respond to pleasantries. Aside from that, how was the play, Mrs. Lincoln?
At first, going back to work provided a bit of a sense of normalcy. But I quickly discovered that it wasn’t business as usual. I have long encouraged people to bring their whole selves to work, but now my “whole self” was just so freaking sad. As hard as it was to bring up Dave with friends, it seemed even more inappropriate at work. So I did not. And they did not. Most of my interactions felt cold, distant, stilted. In the moments when I couldn’t take it, I sought refuge with my boss Mark Zuckerberg. I told him I was worried that my personal connections with our coworkers were slipping away. He understood my fear but insisted I was misreading their reactions. He said they wanted to stay close but they did not know how. The deep loneliness of my loss was compounded by so many distancing daily interactions that I started to feel worse and worse. I thought about carrying around a stuffed elephant but I wasn’t sure that anyone would get the hint. I knew that people were doing their best; those who said nothing were trying not to bring on more pain, those who said the wrong thing were trying to comfort. I saw myself in many of these attempts—they were doing exactly what I had done when I was on the other side. I thought back to a friend with late-stage cancer telling me that for him the worst thing people could say was, “It’s going to be O.K.” He said the terrified voice in his head would wonder, How do you know it is going to be O.K.? Don’t you understand that I might die? I remembered the year before Dave died when a friend of mine was diagnosed with cancer. At the time, I thought the best way to offer comfort was to assure her, “You’ll be O.K. I just know it.” Then I dropped the subject for weeks, thinking she would raise it again if she wanted to. Recently, a colleague was diagnosed with cancer and I handled it differently. I told her, “I know you don’t know yet what will happen—and neither do I. But you won’t go through this alone. I will be there with you every step of the way.” By saying this, I acknowledged that she was in a stressful and scary situation. I then continued to check in with her regularly. As people saw me stumble at work, some of them tried to help by reducing pressure. When I messed up or was unable to contribute, they waved it off, saying, “How could you keep anything straight with all you’re going through?”
In the past, I’d said similar things to colleagues who were struggling, but when people said it to me I discovered that this expression of sympathy actually diminished my self-confidence. What helped was hearing, “Really? I thought you made a good point in that meeting and helped us make a better decision.” Bless you. Empathy was nice, but encouragement was better.
I finally figured out that I could acknowledge the elephant’s existence. At work, I told my closest colleagues that they could ask me questions and they could talk about how they felt too. One colleague said he was paralyzed when I was around, worried he might say the wrong thing. Another admitted she’d been driving by my house frequently, not sure if she should knock on the door. Once I told her that I wanted to talk to her, she finally rang the doorbell and came inside.
When people asked how I was doing, I started responding more frankly. “I’m not fine, and it’s nice to be able to be honest about that with you.” I learned that even small things could let people know that I needed help; when they hugged me hello, if I hugged them just a bit tighter, they understood that I was not O.K.
Sheryl Sandberg: Read an Excerpt From Option B | Time.com
Choosing To Die - A Personal Story - www.phyllisshacter.com
Tuesday, April 11, 2017
I Learned The Hard Way That You Can't Take A Vacation From Grief | The Huffington Post:
Nurses Ignore Hospital Regulations To Grant Dying Man His Final Wish | The Huffington Post:
Saturday, April 8, 2017
Cancer Taught Me To Live Like I'm Dying | The Huffington Post
"So-called living funerals are "on the rise," says Denise Carson, author of Parting Ways (University of California Press, $35), which explores alternatives to traditional end-of-life mourning rituals. "Some look like a cross between a wedding and a funeral," she says. These celebrations provide an opportunity for someone who is near death to gather close friends and relatives and share memories. No rules or customs govern these get-togethers. They can take place anywhere, from a community center to a church or synagogue to a funeral home. "I've seen the honoree dressed in everything from a hospital gown to a tuxedo," Carson says. "Others are more somber, with prayers, psalms, anointing and last rites by clergy." Some attendees bring mementos, such as photos from a family vacation, or poems to recite. In the 1997 bestseller Tuesdays With Morrie by Mitch Albom, the book's subject, Morrie Schwartz, who knows his death is imminent, holds a living funeral in his home because he doesn't want to miss out on tributes to himself.
Celebrating Life When Death Draws Near
How to Make a Shiva Call | My Jewish Learning:
Tuesday, April 4, 2017
In the words of Amy Cunningham, a lecturer and in-demand funeral director in the New York City area, “We’ve mastered the wedding—but the funeral needs a lot of work....The funeral industry may have assumed it was safe from the whims of supply and demand; everyone dies, after all. But modern consumers are educating themselves and demanding more. If the funeral industry is to survive the 21st century, it will need to shed its old ways and begin to participate in open, frank discussions around what we truly want out of life—and death.”
Funeral homes and the death industry are undergoing radical shifts toward DIY death — Quartz:
Sunday, April 2, 2017
Physical Intimacy and the Dying - SevenPonds BlogSevenPonds Blog
Friday, March 31, 2017
In hospice, the family is your patient. They’re truly living their darkest days. For many of them, this admissions meeting is an overwhelming process. Every emotion that they have inside of them that maybe even hasn’t ever surfaced might come to the top. But I don’t want families to cry.
During that first meeting I don’t say: “So this is what we do for people who are dying.” I say: “Hospice is not about dying. It is about living the remainder of your life how you want to. Not how I want you to, not how your husband, wife, daughters, or sons want you to, and not how the doctor wants you to, but how you want to.”
If you think about the last time you went to the doctor, he probably said, “Okay, this is what I think. These are the tests I want to run.” Nobody asks you, “What do you think? Does this sound reasonable? Do you want to do it?” Nobody tells patients how their quality of life is going to go down the toilet when they get chemo. So it’s sometimes hard for patients to wrap their head around the idea that everything is their choice now, they’re driving the ship. That’s the mission of hospice.
Thursday, March 30, 2017
Monday, March 27, 2017
Dying2Learn is the second Massive Open Online Course (MOOC) to be offered by online palliative care resource CareSearch. The five-week course, which starts on 3 April, 2017 will have the same content as the Dying2Learn MOOC offered in the middle of last year.
CareSearch research fellow Deb Rawlings says about 800 people actively participated in the previous MOOC, and many said they were surprised to have really enjoyed it. “You don’t go into this sort of thing thinking ‘I’m going to have a great time here’, but people did and they were surprised by how many like-minded people they met,” she says.
Dying2Learn will have four modules:
- How does today’s society engage with death and dying? How do we use language to describe it? What about the role of television and film?
- What does death ‘look’ like? How is death and dying portrayed in the media?
- If death is the problem, is medicine the answer? A look at what we die of, the role of medicine, and prolonging life versus prolonging death.
- Digital dying: Death during the internet-age."
Second chance to learn about death and dying through free online course - Palliative Care:
Eulogy for a Fairy Princess – Medium
Sunday, March 26, 2017
We tend to defer the question of living or dying well until it’s too late to answer. This might be the scariest thing about death: coming to die only to discover, in Thoreau’s words, that we haven’t lived.
Facing death, though, is rarely simple. We avoid it because we can. It’s easier to think of “dying” as an adjective than a verb, as in a dying patient or one’s dying words. This allows us to pretend that dying is something that is going to happen in some distant future, at some other point in time, to some other person. But not to us. At least not right now. Not today, not tomorrow, not next week, not even next decade. A lifetime from now.
Dying, of course, corresponds exactly with what we prefer to call living. This is what Samuel Beckett meant when he observed that we “give birth astride the grave.” It is an existential realization that may seem to be the province of the very sick or very old. The elderly get to watch the young and oblivious squander their days, time that they now recognize as incredibly precious.
When dying finally delivers us to our unexpected, inevitable end, we would like to think that we’ve endured this arduous trial for a reason. Dying for something has a heroic ring to it. But really it’s the easiest thing in the world and has little to do with fame and fortune. When you wake up and eat your toast, you are dying for something. When you drive to work, you’re dying for something. When you exchange meaningless pleasantries with your colleagues, you’re dying for something. As surely as time passes, we human beings are dying for something. The trick to dying for something is picking the right something, day after week after precious year. And this is incredibly hard and decidedly not inevitable.
Whether someone dies in a hospital, hospice or residential aged care facility, it’s not unusual for their possessions to be passed back to their family in a plastic garbage bag. An End of Life Care Committee in Queensland has developed a more sensitive and respectful approach, which it hopes will be adopted nationally.
The Committee, from Sunshine Coast Hospital and Health Service (SCHHS), developed handover bags, which are printed with a tree symbol designed to represent the cycle of life.
“The aim of the handover bags is to convey to the family and staff that whilst the person was a patient with us, we cared for them and respected them,” says SCHHS principal project officer for End of Life Care, Wendy Pearse.
“This care and respect begins the moment they arrive with us, until the time they leave. We will treat their belonging with the same care and dignity that we showed to the person who died.”
The same purple symbol is printed on resources which can be given to families in the bag, including a bereavement card and a booklet titled “When someone dies…”. It also features on door signs which indicate to staff and visitors that a patient has died.
Thursday, March 23, 2017
Amy Cunningham, wearing Buddhist prayer beads and rose-colored pom-pom earrings, prepared to lead the discussion. She's run the Brooklyn Death Café, an offshoot of the international movement to normalize conversations about death, since 2015. "These Death Cafés are, in our own way, bringing the dead back into our daily lives," Cunningham explained, "by visiting and communing with them and going to spaces like the crematory and seeing the urns in the wall. This is altogether a healthy and positive thing." Cunningham, who worked as a writer and editor for decades, became involved in the death industry after her own father's passing, with hopes of helping others cope with the passing of a loved one as her own funeral director had helped her. She is now an independent funeral director focused on eco-friendly burial and cremation. The cafés, which she leads as a volunteer, are another element of her practice. "I just thought it'd be a nice way to educate people," Cunningham says. "Death shouldn't be so scary. The more we move in toward death, the more we'll learn and put ourselves at ease about our own inevitable demise."
At Green-Wood Cemetery, a Friendly Place to Talk About the End | Village Voice:
Sunday, March 19, 2017
Hospice Chaplain Writes About Her Talks with the Dying
A doctor writes about the mistake of "adding time but not life."
When it comes time for us to be called home, those of us in the know will pray that when we gaze down upon our last breath we will be grateful that our own doctors and families chose to do what they should instead of what they could, and with that we will close our eyes to familiar sounds in a familiar room, a fleeting smile and a final soft squeeze of a familiar hand.
I Know You Love Me — Now Let Me Die
Sunday, March 12, 2017
We didn’t think Randy’s mother would thrive or even survive when she was widowed. Larry and she had also been together since they were teens. She wasn’t eager to move into a senior living community, but we wanted her to be closer to us, so we insisted. It took months for her to go from resentful to enthused. She made friends and signed up for chair yoga, current events, and every museum outing. She dyed her hair red. She was an energetic dumpling zipping around on her walker, usually with a banana or two tucked inside the seat. (When we flew to Chicago for my stepdaughter’s wedding, Ruth was stopped going through security. A gun-like object had appeared in the seat of her walker: a banana.)
Then, over a hot bridge game, she met Otto, now 94 years old.
He’d had so many illnesses and operations that even he couldn’t believe he was still alive. “I have no organs left,” he said. “I’m held together by pills.” By then, Ruth was back and forth to hospitals with heart problems. But that failing heart adored Otto. At night they’d take turns visiting each other’s apartments and watch reruns of Hogan’s Heroes, sometimes The Carol Burnett Show....
Last December, when the doctor told Ruth that her heart had weakened, she said, “No more hospitals.” He explained that she would “most likely pass from this.” Her response: “I’ve led a blessed life. I’m ready to go home.”
Hospice care was set up in her apartment. The way she wanted. When we received the early morning call from an aide saying that Ruth’s pulse had stopped, that she was gone, we hurried over to find hospice workers waiting in her living room. But it was a sobbing Otto who was sitting by her bedside, watching over her, until Randy and I arrived.
Wednesday, March 8, 2017
The therapeutic humor movement is catching on. Last year, the Minnesota Network of Hospice and Palliative Care, which serves Minnesota, Wisconsin, Iowa, North Dakota and South Dakota, closed its annual conference with a session from a humorist. And this year, the conference will open with a session on laughter yoga. “Laughter, of course, is a healthy thing,” said Susan Marschalk, the network’s executive director. “It’s certainly good for people who are caregivers. It’s really good for hospice providers and the people who are working with patients who witness people dying every day. They need laughter.” The connection between humor and health also is recognized by the Association for Applied and Therapeutic Humor. Based in Illinois, the group was started by a registered nurse and has members in Minnesota from various professions — including scholars, psychologists, nurses and doctors. Therapeutic humor is “any intervention that promotes health and wellness by stimulating a playful discovery, expression or appreciation of the absurdity or incongruity of life’s situations,” the group’s website says. “There is a very close relationship between laughter and tears,” said Mary Kay Morrison, president of the association and a self-described “neurohumorist.” “Laughter is a relief. When you laugh so hard that you cry, there is a close connection there. It’s something that brings relief from the stress and anxiety. “Even in hospice, I believe when someone is able to laugh about the situation, you know they are starting to accept it and starting to cope with it,” she said. “Even in hospice, I believe when someone is able to laugh about the situation, you know they are starting to accept it and starting to cope with it,” she said.
When is dying a laughing matter? Hospice humor gains a following - StarTribune.com:
Monday, March 6, 2017
A post shared by Mari Andrew (@bymariandrew) on
My friend Frank (not his real name) answers his phone. He has this notoriously unreliable Bluetooth earpiece that he loves to use. Today it’s having a bad day. He sounds like a Martian. I tell him I’ll call back. When he answers the second time he’s no longer a Martian. I say, “Ah! It’s my old friend Frank – the one I know and love!”
This joke brings him to tears because he’s not my old friend Frank, he’s the new Frank. The one who is fighting a disease that will shorten his life dramatically. This sort of painful moment has become more and more common in our conversations. We’ve been doing these regular phone calls for several years now, starting long before the disease was discovered. In the beginning, our conversations were sometimes awkward, maybe even boring. But they were meaningful enough that we kept having them. Today, neither of us would give them up for the world. They have become a touchstone of sanity for us, a sanctuary from an increasingly chaotic and unpredictable world. We have discovered that we love these conversations and we love each other.
Intimacy | Richard Griffin :
Friday, March 3, 2017
"I’m here to say that the West has the concept of grieving all wrong. I’d like to point out that we are a culture of emotionally stunted individuals who are scared of our mortality and have mastered the concept of stuffing our pain. Western society has created a neat little “grief box” where we place the grieving and wait for them to emerge fixed and whole again. The grief box is small and compact, and it comes full of expectations like that range from time frames to physical appearance. Everyone who has been pushed into the grief box understands it’s confining limitations, but all of our collective voices together can’t seem to change the intense indignation of a society too emotionally stifled to speak the truth. It’s become easier to hide our emotional depth than to reveal our vulnerability and risk harsh judgment. When asked if we are alright, it’s simpler to say yes and fake a smile then, to be honest, and show genuine human emotion.
Let me share below a few of the expectations and realities that surround grief for those who are open to listening. None of my concepts fit into societies grief box and despite the resounding amount of mutual support by the grieving for what I write below, many will discount my words and label us as “stuck” or “in need of good therapy.”
I’m here to say those who are honest with the emotions that surround loss are the ones who are the least “stuck” and have received the best therapy around. You see, getting in touch with our true feelings, embracing the honest emotions of death only serve to expand the heart and allow us to move forward in a genuine and honest way. Death happens to us all so let’s turn the corner and embrace the truth behind life after loss."
Stifled Grief: How the West Has It Wrong | The Huffington Post:
"No wonder the word cancer and cancel look so similar. This is when we entered what I came to think of as Plan 'Be,' existing only in the present. As for the future, allow me to introduce you to the gentleman of this article, Jason Brian Rosenthal. He is an easy man to fall in love with. I did it in one day."
You May Want to Marry My Husband - The New York Times
Saturday, February 25, 2017
Nyack’s Newest Boutique Celebrates The Circle of Life with Focus on Eco-friendly Burial - Nyack, NY Patch
A new boutique coming to Nyack will celebrate life by focusing on the green, ecologically-friendly aspects of death to rebirth. That’s right, death. It will happen to all of us. But that’s not news. Sometimes, the discussion of death, its circumstances and everything involved are difficult topics to address. However, there is a growing movement going back to the basics....
Kerry Potter of Suffern has long been an advocate for a greener Earth. She is the founder the Rockland Community Foundation’s “Green Cemetery Fund” and is opening Dying to Bloom, her new, natural burial boutique, with a grand opening on February 25, 2017. The store is located at 48 Burd Street in Nyack, across the street from Squash Blossom. “I lost both of my parents in my twenties. At that time, we didn’t think twice about having them embalmed and entombed in a cement vault. As I became educated about the industry, I realized green burials fall more in line with my appreciation for the environment and the planet we leave for future generations. For what seems like an eternity, I have been looking for a way to help advocate and support the trend back to nature and simplicity. We’ve learned to make recycling cans, bottles and newspapers part of our everyday life. We should strive to do the same in death,” said Kerry Potter, Founder, Dying to Bloom.
Nyack’s Newest Boutique Celebrates The Circle of Life with Focus on Eco-friendly Burial - Nyack, NY Patch:
Friday, February 24, 2017
Leslie Ray Charping obituary. Carnes Funeral Home.:
Wednesday, February 22, 2017
[W]hen brain imaging studies are done on people who are grieving, increased activity is seen along a broad network of neurons. These link areas associated not only with mood but also with memory, perception, conceptualization, and even the regulation of the heart, the digestive system, and other organs. Prevention Magazine
Sunday, February 19, 2017
Dr. Jessica Nutik Zitter writes that death ed is just as important as sex ed:
I am a doctor who practices both critical and palliative care medicine at a hospital in Oakland, Calif. I love to use my high-tech tools to save lives in the intensive-care unit. But I am also witness to the profound suffering those very same tools can inflict on patients who are approaching the end of life. Too many of our patients die in overmedicalized conditions, where treatments and technologies are used by default, even when they are unlikely to help. Many patients have I.C.U. stays in the days before death that often involve breathing machines, feeding tubes and liquid calories running through those tubes into the stomach. The use of arm restraints to prevent accidental dislodgment of the various tubes and catheters is common. Many of the patients I have cared for at the end of their lives had no idea they were dying, despite raging illness and repeated hospital admissions. The reasons for this are complex and varied — among them poor physician training in breaking bad news and a collective hope that our technologies will somehow ultimately triumph against death. By the time patients are approaching the end, they are often too weak or disabled to express their preferences, if those preferences were ever considered at all. Patients aren’t getting what they say they want. For example, 80 percent of Americans would prefer to die at home, but only 20 percent achieve that wish. Many of us would choose to die in a planned, comfortable way, surrounded by those we love. But you can’t plan for a good death if you don’t know you’re dying. We need to learn how to make a place for death in our lives and we also need to learn how to plan for it. In most cases, the suffering could have been avoided, or at least mitigated, by some education on death and our medical system. The fact is that when patients are prepared, they die better. When they have done the work of considering their own goals and values, and have documented those preferences, they make different choices. What people want when it comes to end-of-life care is almost never as much as what we give them. I am a passionate advocate for educating teenagers to be responsible about their sexuality. And I believe it is past time for us to educate them also about death, an equally important stage of life, and one for which the consequences of poor preparedness are as bad, arguably worse. Ideally this education would come early, well before it’s likely to be needed. I propose that we teach death ed in all of our high schools. I see this curriculum as a civic responsibility. I understand that might sound radical, but bear with me. Why should death be considered more taboo than sex? Both are a natural part of life. We may think death is too scary for kids to talk about, but I believe the consequences of a bad death are far scarier. A death ed program would aim to normalize this passage of life and encourage students to prepare for it, whenever it might come — for them, or for their families.
First, Sex Ed. Then Death Ed. - NYTimes.com:
Wednesday, February 15, 2017
“Food is love,” my partner jokes as she unloads mountains of food from her latest trip to COSTCO. “I can’t help it! I’m Jewish!” she protests, when I wonder aloud how the two of us will ever manage to consume all that food.
As the lineups at Super Stores attest, for a great many people being able to prepare and serve meals is a vital way of showing love.
I never expected to encounter this among families caring for someone who is nearing the end of their life. But that is precisely what I see week after week at the residential hospice where I have volunteered for the past 15 years.
When we are caring for someone who is seriously ill or dying, food can be one of the most important sources of comfort for caregiver and patient alike. No longer able to enjoy socializing or dinner at a restaurant, a person with a terminal illness may still enjoy a special meal, a treat, or even a dish of ice cream topped with Bailey’s Irish Cream. At the hospice, family members load the fridge with special items – meatloaf, lasagna, smoked salmon, pickled onions, cream puffs, chocolate chunk ice cream – anything to ensure that their friend or family member feels loved and catered to. This may be especially true if they are no longer able to provide care at home. Losing the caregiver role that has become central to their identity, they can at least still provide sustenance.
When my sister was dying of metastatic melanoma, finding things that she might enjoy became my ongoing challenge. Whether because of the pain medication or the disease itself, Carol felt nauseous nearly every day. This was compounded by the fact that she was lactose intolerant, allergic to many foods, and was perpetually constipated (the result of the opioids she was taking.) Not surprisingly, she was reluctant to eat or drink. I scoured specialty grocery stores in vain searching for something besides ginger ale that she could tolerate.
When someone is dying, they will gradually eat and drink less and less until finally they may be unable to tolerate any food and drink as their organs shut down. This stage can be extremely alarming for family members. A wife who has cooked special meals for her husband in hopes that he would keep up his strength may be devastated when he turns away from her special soup. “My husband is so stubborn I could kill him,” one woman blurted out in frustration. She would have nothing to do with my explanation that his unwillingness to eat might be the natural outcome of the disease process.
The son or daughter who has been bringing supper to their mother throughout her illness may feel lost without that tangible demonstration of their love. A mother or father, caring for their seriously ill or dying child, may feel as if there is nothing else they can do.
In the final stages of life, food and drink can prove to be fatal. A patient who has difficulty swallowing may aspirate even a tiny piece of the food or liquid, causing pneumonia and even death. For patients with a bowel obstruction, any amount of food can cause pain, bloating, and even a perforated bowel.
To prevent such outcomes, it is important for health care providers to explain the dying process to family members and caregivers. Reassure them that refusing food and drink is a natural occurrence at the end of life, not a rejection of their love. They are welcome to offer sips or tastes but they must never attempt to force their loved one to eat or drink.
As I learned from my caring for my sister, providing food is not the only way to show your love. Your presence – calm, patient, loving – is by far the most important gift you can provide. Watching a movie, reading aloud, playing music or singing – all are ways to ease their journey and demonstrate your love. In the final phase of life, being present is much more important than doing.
Katherine Arnup PhD is a writer, speaker, caregiver, hospice volunteer and retired university professor. Her most recent book, I don’t have time for this!” A Compassionate Guide to Caring for Your Parents and Yourself, is available on Amazon.
She blogs about life and death at Hospice Volunteering.
Thursday, February 9, 2017
'I know they are going to die.' This foster father takes in only terminally ill children - Chicago Tribune
The children were going to die. Mohamed Bzeek knew that. But in his more than two decades as a foster father, he took them in anyway — the sickest of the sick in Los Angeles County’s sprawling foster care system. He has buried about 10 children. Some died in his arms. Now, Bzeek spends long days and sleepless nights caring for a bedridden 6-year-old foster girl with a rare brain defect. She’s blind and deaf. She has daily seizures. Her arms and legs are paralyzed. Bzeek, a quiet, devout Libyan-born Muslim who lives in Azusa, just wants her to know she’s not alone in this life. “I know she can’t hear, can’t see, but I always talk to her,” he said. “I’m always holding her, playing with her, touching her. … She has feelings. She has a soul. She’s a human being.”
'I know they are going to die.' This foster father takes in only terminally ill children - Chicago Tribune
Sunday, February 5, 2017
Andrew Kneier, a clinical psychologist who works with cancer patients, shares that often the dying want to speak of what is happening to them, but that their friends and loved ones don’t give them the space to do so, urging them to remain positive and hopeful, and “fight.” In a study he performed at the UCSF Comprehensive Cancer Center, which he discusses in his book Finding Your Way Through Cancer, he was able to discern six main factors continuously mentioned by his patients as they came to terms with their impending deaths:
Gratitude for their lives and positive experiences
Pride in accomplishments
Faith or spirituality
Making changes in order to be more at peace when death comes
Their legacy, or positive contributions to others
Loving and being loved
He emphasizes that these were the topics privately consuming his patients, who had felt unable or unwelcome to discuss the topics with their families and loved ones.
I find that terribly sad, and it just validates that accepting, embracing, and, yes, maybe even obsessing about death is an important and valuable part of life.
Read about death. Learn about death. Think about death. Make decisions about your own death. Ask your friends and loved ones about their deaths. And if at all possible, do what you can to assure that you die a Good Death.
Christine Colby is a writer/editor specializing in the darker side. She has been a speaker at Death Salon L.A. and Death Salon Mütter Museum, and was a founding member of the Morbid Anatomy Museum.
Have Your Wishes For Care Known Before A Health Crisis Strikes : Shots - Health News : NPR
Wednesday, January 25, 2017
"As a bereavement counselor, you see so many cases where people feel guilty for “not being there.” It can be helpful to set the expectation early that dying is a private experience and the person may die when family and friends are not there. We discuss how their loved one may not be able to “let go” while they are there. This information can help caregivers to take the pressure off themselves."
We Don’t Know Death: 7 Assumptions We Make about Dying ~ Pallimed:
Sunday, January 22, 2017
Get professional assistance in coordinating care by finding geriatric care managers and doctors specializing in dementia.
Locate adult day care services (where you take your parent for a period of time) or respite care services (people who come into the home). Investigate the memory care facilities in the area, so you know what is available and what costs are involved if it becomes necessary to move your parent.
Think about your social networks. Are there people, perhaps at your place of worship or in your mom’s friendship circle, who can help with errands, meals, home maintenance tasks and other necessities?
Look for support groups. Caring for a family member with Alzheimer’s is demanding, exhausting and eventually all-consuming. It can be a tremendous benefit to talk with others in the same situation.
At the same time, start gathering your parent’s important documents and data, including things such as:
certificates of birth, marriage and divorce
last will and testament
health care directives
power of attorney papers
Social Security number
car title and keys
home deed or mortgage papers
all personal and property insurance policies
pension and/or 401(k) account information;
names of service professionals (banker, lawyer, estate planning attorney, financial adviser, insurance agent, doctors, etc.)
Ensure you also know passwords to parent’s computer, cell phone and all online and social media accounts. Keep all these in a secure and centralized location.
And -- collect memories while you can. People with memory loss often hold onto their long-term memories. Ask questions and record the answer.
Thursday, January 12, 2017
Wednesday, January 11, 2017
"1. There is no correct way to grieve. Despite turning to elicit drug abuse, alcoholism, or any other addiction that puts ones personal safety in danger, no one can tell you how to grieve. Sure there are thousands of therapists and counselors, even many more thousands of self-help books, the personal accounts and suggestions of others, and the list goes on...but the way you will end up grieving the passing of your child is entirely up to you. 2. Grieving is not something negative. Not only is it not a negative, but it is healthy. It shows that you have loved your child is such a way that no one else could. Grief doesn’t always come out all at once, in fact it usually comes out in bit by bit when certain moments, songs, smells, memories, and even just hearing their name triggers it. It’s okay to take that moment to feel that pain all over again. Try to appreciate those moments. 3. Home is not a location, or even an address. Many of you reading this your home wasn’t one particular place, in fact, home was found wherever you felt the safest, the place that brings to surface the emotions you’ve buried, and even brings back the memories you may have forgotten. PTSD is real in parents of children with complex medical needs, but as much as the hospital setting triggers those emotions, it is also the place many call home. The memories are bittersweet, the emotions are real and very raw, but within those walls were also some of your greatest victories."What I've Learned From Grieving Parents | The Huffington Post
Friday, January 6, 2017
Death and STUFF | The Order of the Good Death:
by James Wright
She’s gone. She was my love, my moon or more.
She chased the chickens out and swept the floor,
Emptied the bones and nut-shells after feasts,
And smacked the kids for leaping up like beasts.
Now morbid boys have grown past awkwardness;
The girls let stitches out, dress after dress,
To free some swinging body’s riding space
And form the new child’s unimagined face.
Yet, while vague nephews, spitting on their curls,
Amble to pester winds and blowsy girls,
What arm will sweep the room, what hand will hold
New snow against the milk to keep it cold?
And who will dump the garbage, feed the hogs,
And pitch the chickens’ heads to hungry dogs?
Not my lost hag who dumbly bore such pain:
Childbirth at midnight sassafras and rain.
New snow against her face and hands she bore,
And now lies down, who was my moon or more.
Sunday, January 1, 2017
Your fear of death is but the trembling of the shepherd when he stands before the king whose hand is to be laid upon him in honor. Is the shepherd not joyful beneath his trembling, that he shall wear the mark of the king? Yet is he not more mindful of his trembling? For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and to melt into the sun? And what is it to cease breathing, but to free the breath from its restless tides, that it may rise and expand and seek God unencumbered? Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing. And when you have reached the mountain top, then you shall begin to climb. And when the earth shall claim your limbs, then shall you truly dance.From The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran"
Death, Dying, Grief | Allspirit