I was given a booklet from the Hospice nurse called Gone From My Sight: The Dying Experience. Here are some excerpts that stood out to me:
WITHDRAWAL:
“This is becoming a time of withdrawing from everything outside of one’s self and going inside. Inside where there is sorting out, evaluating one’s self and one’s life. But inside there is only room for one. This processing of one’s life is usually done with the eyes closed, so sleep increases. A morning nap is added to the usual afternoon nap. Staying in bed all day and spending more time asleep than awake becomes the norm. This appears to be just sleep but know that important work is going on inside on a level of which “outsiders” aren’t aware. With this withdrawal comes less of a need to communicate with others. Words are seen as being connected with the physical life that is being left behind. Words are seen as being connected with the physical life that is being left behind. Words lose their importance: touch and wordlessness take on more meaning.”
FOOD:
“It’s okay not to eat. A different kind of energy is needed now. A spiritual energy, not a physical one, will sustain from here on.”
DISORIENTATION:
“Focus is changing from this world to the next: they are losing their grounding to earth.”
ONE TO TWO DAYS, TO HOURS PRIOR TO DEATH:
“Sometimes there is a surge of energy. A person may talk clearly and alertly when before there had been disorientation. ….THe spiritual energy for transition from this world to the next has arrived and it is used for a time of physical expression before moving on. The surge of energy is not always noticeable, but in hindsight, it can usually be recognized.”
“How we approach death is going to depend upon our fear of life, how much we participated in that life, and how willing we are to let go of this known expression to venture into a new one. Fear and unfinished business are two big factors in determining how much resistance we put into meeting death. The separation becomes complete when breathing stops. What appears to be the last breath is often followed by one or two long spaced breaths and then the physical body is empty. The owner is no longer in need of a heavy, nonfunctioning vehicle. They have entered a new city, a new life.”
We have definitely seen a mental surge in Vernon over the past week. When it seemed Vernon was slowing down again into more sleep and confusion, it seemed to me that it was just a matter of time. But even last night, I saw a different alertness that alarmed me. He was agitated and seemed strong. Even in the dark light of the room, his left arm looked more functional, stretching across his body by holding the bedrail, just like all those times on the dialysis chair. He doesn’t want pain killers because he knows they make him groggy. He seems to understand that quality time is short, even if he only emerges from sleep less frequently.
The Hospice nurse thinks his heart is strong, that he could go on another week or so. I’m not sure where I want to be if it goes on that long. Do I stay here or go home for a bit? Fortunately, I don’t have to make that decision today. I do like being nearby at the moment…with freedom to come and go.
It is confusing though: sometimes elements of his “surge” make me doubt certain decisions. I have to remind myself there is no turning back from this path now, that it is happening regardless of how Vernon is responding. That’s hard. Derek, our chaplain (and friend) has talked through it with me. Or at least he listens while I talk through it.
I asked Vernon earlier if he felt confused. He said he did.
“What are you confused about?”
“Everything.”
(a pause.)
“And nothing.”
Here’s one more excerpt from the booklet:
“Death comes in its own time, in its own way. Death is as unique as the individual who is experiencing it.”
152
This is beautiful yet heartbreaking. The fact you are walking through this together is precious, and I’m humbled that you would give us a glimpse into it like this. To be raw in a time of such vulnerability and transition makes me in awe of you, of you both. My heart breaks for you, my friend. Xo
Thank you for sharing those excerpts. It makes me feel like there should be a happier word for it, like perhaps “transition” The word “death” seems so ugly and final but reading the excerpts you’ve shared and the experiences you are having, it seems that hopefully Vernon is experiencing some of the beautiful and welcoming parts of it. Somehow he is getting a glimpse into what is and will be beyond and knowing that it is a beautiful and safe place. Thinking of you all…
This waiting is a weight on the heart. It is an extended final goodbye. I find peace in thinking he is busy at work on that inside level of which we “outsiders” aren’t aware. That’s how I saw him work at the office — deeply focused in on his screen making the next masterpiece font, or watching a Bigfoot/Sasquatch documentary. 😉 May peace cover the two of you in these quieter moments.
Dear Allison, We don’t now each other at all, but I’ve been following your blog about this journey. So much beauty in the midst of so much heartbreak, and all your friends and loved ones are so right: you are amazing. For what it’s worth (so very little in this time of grief for you, I’m sure), I have walked the hospice walk with a few people that were very dear to me. Yes, it can take as long as it takes . . . and the process is not particularly uniform or orderly, so it is difficult to predict or plan. I do know (believe?) that the person who is dying seems to want and need “permission” from their loved ones to “let go.” It seems so strange, but I’ve watched it happen with my own eyes. The ties of love on and to this Earth are so powerful. I imagine the good people from your hospice are helping you with that. The only other thing that it might help know (or that might not be spelled out so clearly in the booklets) is that there truly are “tell tale” signs as the body goes through the final stages of shutting down. In my experience, they usually indicate that the final transition will occur within hours. I learned this from hearing hospice workers say “he has begun transitioning” and “he is transitioning” — as if I knew what that meant. It meant that they knew what they were seeing, and they were trying to tell me that we were in the final hours (which later feel like they were mere moments). If you are struggling with trying to decide how long it is okay to be away, it might be helpful to ask someone on the hospice staff to talk frankly, directly with you about those signs. Beyond that, I’ve been wanting to offer you the kindest words of comfort anyone ever offered me in grief: “You are God’s child. He knows what is best for you. You are God’s child.” God bless you and keep you.
Love You –
What can one say to make it an easy transition? I’m loss for adequate words.
My heart is with you Allison, as are many others. We care and trust that you will find strength and rest at the same time. I pray for grace that is sufficient for every need you are experiencing.
I pray for there to be a peaceful good-bye and a knowing of a day when you will meet again in a much better place that the Lord has prepared for each of you. This is only part of life’s journey; the everlasting arms of Jesus await each of us for the eternal part that will be much better. It will be free from pain, sorrow, tears and even free from what we call death. There will be eternal life in the presence of our Savior, Redeemer.
i understand, sending love and hugs and prayers
Allison,
Have heard a lot of this being a volunteer for Hospice. They are a wonderful origination and are helpful to many people at a time like this.
Rest in the Lord and may Vernon do the same.
God be with you both at this time.
Hugs,
Becky
My heart is moved almost beyond words…how about inspired, humbled, grateful. Why grateful? That you would be willing to share each of these moments with us.
You will know, I knew when my sister was going to pass. I love you all.
Love to you and yours as you go through this trying time.
I was wondering if you had received that little book – also given to me by a Hospice chaplain. It became my bedside textbook…to the point I just had to sometimes put it aside and stop my obsession of watching for signs. I still find myself reading the closing writing by Henry Van Dyke. Over those few hospice months I established a personal resource library on dying/death/grief that includes ‘The Four Stages of Hope..Using the Power of Hope to Cope with Dying’ , Living the End of Life’, A Very Easy Death – Simone De Beauvoir” and my favorite….’In The Midst of Winter..Selections from the Literature of Mourning’.
My dad’s death, (soon after the loss of my grandparents) when I was not yet age 30, sent me on a quest of understanding this mystery from both a spiritual and academic standpoint. All that questing and I still struggled to do it right and questioned if I did. My conclusion is there is no right. Forever grateful to Hospice – the wonderful guides who help us with the crossing.
“It is hard to have patience with people who say, ‘There is no death’ or ‘Death doesn’t matter.’ There is death. And whatever is matters.” (C.S. Lewis)
Allison you bring me to tears often while reading your contemplations. I feel your tug, your push forward, your push backward. Your heart squeezes and then it bleeds, then it expands and becomes full. You may have no idea just what affect you have on us who read your throbbing heart. Be well dear Allison, be as well as you can be. There’s so much left to see and feel while your Vernon is still here, and then the after.
Feels wrong to not say something, not sure what to say. I love you and Vernon.
I’m crying with you and learning from what you write…. Thank you. God Bless you with HIS PEACE and HIS Comfort xoxo
Warm hugs my sweet friend.