Death & Dying | Hank Dunn

Compassionate, informed advice about healthcare decision making

Archive for the ‘Death & Dying’ Category

Alone into the Alone — “A Grief Observed” Revisited

Posted August 18, 2022 by [email protected]

Why?

Why, late in his career, would an internationally famous Christian author publish a personal memoir under a pseudonym? He hid both his identity and that of his beloved wife. Why?

I was leaving on one of my daily bike rides recently and needed to pick a new book to listen to. I selected a reread — A Grief Observed (1961). But, the author was identified as N.W. Clerk in the original rendering. Only after his death in 1963, was it published as by C.S. Lewis.

So, I am peddling the hills of Oxford, Mississippi, and I am being reminded just how good this book is. Between 1940 and his marriage in 1956, this confirmed bachelor wrote his greatest works including The Screwtape Letters (1942), The Chronicles of Narnia (1950-56), and Mere Christianity (1952). His brief four-year marriage to the terminally ill Joy led to A Grief Observed.

Lewis traced his wife’s life with cancer, then death and then his grief in this very thin volume (my copy has 53 pages of text.) Only, she is not “Joy,” who became his wife when he was 57 and she 41. In A Grief she is “H.” Her full name was Helen Joy Davidman, thus the “H.” They were actually married in the hospital where she was receiving treatment.

Here is a sampling of this grief journal by one of the 20^th century’s greatest writers and Christian apologists.

“No one ever told me that grief felt so much like fear. I am not afraid, but the sensation is like being afraid.”

Years ago, I had memorized this first line of the book. C.S. Lewis starts his journaling describing how grief feels to him. He keeps this up on every page.

“For in grief nothing ‘stays put.’ One keeps on emerging from a phase, but it always recurs.”… “Grief is like a long valley, a winding valley where any bend may reveal a totally new landscape.”

How many times have I heard this? I have to remind grievers “you never ‘get over’ grieving.” Lewis sees it as a series of emerging phases always recurring. He likens it to a hike through a valley.

“Meanwhile, where is God?… But go to Him when your need is desperate, when all other help is vain, and what do you find? A door slammed in your face, and a sound of bolting and double bolting on the inside. After that, silence.”

This might come as a surprise to those who found Lewis’ writings on Christianity so helpful. He had doubts. He didn’t doubt the existence of God but that his beliefs did not take away the pain of grief. He had no time for the “trust God and all will be good” line of thinking. Perhaps, this is why he wrote under a pseudonym. Doubt was so far from the assured Lewis.

“It is incredible how much happiness, even how much gaiety, we sometimes had together after all hope was gone.”

Here seems to be a great contradiction. In the midst of no hope for cure, Lewis and his wife had great happiness. There is a scene in Shadowlands, the biopic about their life together and her death. Lewis tells Joy not to talk about her impending death. He doesn’t want to spoil their good time together. She says, “It doesn’t spoil it, it makes it real.… I’m going to die and I want to be with you.… The pain then is part of the happiness now. That’s the deal.”

“She said not to me but to the chaplain, ‘I am at peace with God.’ She smiled, but not at me. Poi si torno all’ eterna fontana.”

These are the last words in A Grief Observed. He was able to witness the exchange between his dying wife and a chaplain. She was at peace. He closed with a Latin line from Dante’s Divine Comedy. In English, “Then she returned to the eternal source.”

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Cover Photo by Ricardo Gomez Angel on Unsplash

Chaplain Hank Dunn is the author of Hard Choices for Loving People: CPR, Feeding Tubes, Palliative Care, Comfort Measures and the Patient with a Serious Illness and Light in the Shadows. Together they have sold over 4 million copies. You can purchase his books at hankdunn.com or on Amazon.

More Nothing than Something — True Solace is Finding None

Posted July 29, 2022 by [email protected]

I was such a scaredy-cat at 8 years old. All I can remember of two particular movies in 1956 was that I kept my eyes closed during the entirety of each film. I have just discovered, through Wikipedia, that Earth Vs. The Flying Saucers and The Werewolf were released together as a double feature that summer. Who knew?

Bingo. Those were the two movies of my childhood fears. I was sitting through 160+ minutes of terror.

From my youth, outer space and the heavens brought a recuring sense of awe. Yes, the fear of flying saucers invading was real. But, there was also a sense of reverence as I gazed into the night sky. I was pretty small in the vastness of the stars above.

I just placed the latest “deep field” photo from the new James Webb Space Telescope to my home screen on my iPhone. This is a time exposure photo of a portion of the night sky the size of a grain of sand held at arms-length. Thousands of galaxies appear as we look back billions of years. Each galaxy has billions of stars — each star is not unlike our sun.

We come out of childhood, hopefully, putting away childhood fears. We gain a sense of control of our own lives. I am somebody. That is, until….

That is, until something reminds of how small we really are — how we really are not in control. Serious illness ranks up there with things that shake us to our core.

The Deep Field photo brings so many thoughts to my mind. What is really amazing is that there is more of nothing than there is of something. More empty space than stars. Perhaps “nothingness” is more important than “something.”

Even down at the microscopic level, scientists tell us that the is more empty space in each atom than solid matter. Doesn’t make sense when you fall on asphalt after a spill off your bike, but, I have to take the experts at their word.

The point is that emptiness and nothingness are where we live. Yes, I am glad I have family, friends, community, and this beautiful earth to enjoy. But, I also feel at home in the vastness of empty space or the silence which is a space empty of sound.

It is the message of the mystics and the dying have been telling us since the dawn of time. I am reminded of Gretel Ehrlich’s comment, “True solace is finding none. Then, of course, it is everywhere.”

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Being Sued for SAVING the Life of a Patient

Posted June 24, 2022 by [email protected]

“I’ll drag mother down to my car and take her to the emergency room myself,” she told me.

The patient had left verbal and written instructions that she did not want to have life-saving treatments when she was dying. A “No CPR” order was on her chart. Knowing her daughter’s feelings, the old lady chose her son as her power of attorney. She conspicuously omitted any mention of her daughter in the document.

I met this patient, her son, and daughter while I was a nursing home chaplain. By that time, the patient had severe dementia, so healthcare decisions were in the hands of the son. The daughter commented about taking her mom to the emergency room in one of our earlier conversations.

A recent issue of Hospice News featured a story about how healthcare institutions are open to lawsuits if they do not honor a patient’s wishes to refuse life-sustaining treatment. We almost always think it is the right thing to save a life. But there are cases of “wrongful life.” That is, saving a patient’s life who had chosen to let a natural death happen.

As it typically happens, the nursing home patient I ministered to went into a slow downward decline. Even the daughter eventually realized that when her mother’s heart finally stopped, it was time. Thankfully, there was no schlepping the poor old lady into the car.

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On The Other Hand, “I don’t want to die at home.”

Posted June 8, 2022 by [email protected]

Conventional wisdom says, “A good death is at home with my family gathered around me.”

An alternative view says, “I don’t want to die at home.”

How many times have we seen in an obituary, “He died peacefully at home with his family gathered around him.” Families wear this as a badge of honor. They provided the best of care and met the patient’s wishes to remain at home.

Home is generally considered the preferred place to die. For the first time in generations, more people are dying at home than in the hospital*. I have seen some studies that consider dying at home, as opposed to dying in the hospital, as a “good outcome.”

“Not so fast, my friend.”

“Not so fast, my friend,” as Lee Corso would say on College Game Day. Many people die away from home by choice. As I said in a previous blog, there are some people who just feel more comfortable dying in the hospital. Some families do not want to live in a home where a family member died.

I have a friend who is in his 70s and his preference is to die away from home. He is in a second marriage, this time to a widow. He does not want to put his wife through the caregiving burden again.

Besides, he told me, he has so far paid for long term care insurance for years and would hate for all that money to go to waste. With the insurance, he is prepared financially to live for years in assisted living or a nursing home. “I will not put her through that again,” he said.

*See a recent article in the New England Journal of Medicine, “Where Americans Die — Is There Really ‘No Place Like Home’?”

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Cover Photo by Zac Gudakov on Unsplash

The Lonely, Difficult Journey of COVID Grievers

Posted May 26, 2022 by [email protected]

“Oh my god, they are going to blame overweight people for their own deaths.” This was my first thought in the winter or spring of 2020 when I initially heard about the risk factors leading to death by COVID. The list included obesity, diabetes, old age, compromised immune systems, and being Black.

Photo by Ben White on Unsplash

My mind revisited those first weeks of the pandemic as I saw an interview with Ed Yong of The Atlantic on the PBS News Hour. For two years, he has been talking to COVID grievers. You can read his most recent article, “The Final Pandemic Betrayal,” here or watch the seven-minute PBS interview here.

I wrote blogs about the grief rituals after the death of my mother-in-law during COVID and public displays of remembrance of those who died. Now Ed Yong has written and talked in the most moving fashion about the more than 9 million fellow Americans who have lost a close relative to the virus.

COVID Grievers Face an Unprecedented Time to Grieve

Photo by Claudia Wolff on Unsplash

We who have NOT lost someone to COVID have little concept of the unique, profound, and enduring grief now being visited upon these grievers. Here is the story of a mother who watched her son die on her phone:

“Teresita Horne had spent more than a week on a breathing machine when her 13-year-old son, Donovan, died in a different hospital; she watched him die on her phone. ‘I remember screaming,’ she told me. ‘When your kids are sick, they need you, but I couldn’t be there to comfort him. I couldn’t hold his hand one last time.’”

Don’t ask, “Were they vaccinated?”

Then there was the tone in our questions to those who lost a loved one to COVID. “Did they get the vaccine?” What does that have to do with our attempt to reach out to someone caught up in grief? The mere question implies that there was something the dead person should have done or, worse yet, the griever should have done to prevent the death. Aside from appeasing our curiosity about if they got the vaccine, how does that question comfort the bereaved?

Photo by Pierre Bamin on Unsplash

Again, Yong writes, “Many grievers end up blaming themselves. Should I have pulled them out of that nursing home? Should I have pushed them harder to get vaccinated? And worst of all: Did I give them COVID?“

He concludes: “In her book, The Myth of Closure, Pauline Boss, a therapist and pioneer in the study of ambiguous loss, offers some advice for pandemic grievers: ‘It is not closure you need but certainty that your loved one is gone, that they understood why you could not be there to comfort them, that they loved you and forgave you in their last moments of life,’ she wrote. Instead of waiting for a clean but mythical endpoint to one’s loss, it is better to search for ‘meaning and purpose in our lives after this horrific time in history,’” she said.

Do yourself a favor. Read Yong’s article or listen to the short interview. I was moved by the stories of these COVID grievers

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Cover Photo by Shane on Unsplash

The Rise of Cremations and Our Need to be with the Dead

Posted May 13, 2022 by [email protected]

While we were planning a funeral for her 22-year-old son, Scott, she put down her beer, took the cigarette from her lips, and said, “So, I remind you of the Virgin Mary?” A lighter moment amid grief. Scott died from a long and debilitating illness. He may have weighed 80 pounds in the end.

I lived a few doors down from Scott and his family for four years. His sisters babysat my kids. I was Scott’s den leader in Cub Scouts. As disease ravaged his young body, Scott graduated from college in a wheelchair. I was so privileged to be a part of his care.

In Scott’s last days, one of my fellow chaplains called me as he was preparing to leave town on vacation. He was aware I was an old friend of Scott and his family. He asked if I could check in on Scott and even do the funeral if he died. I was glad to do it.

On my second visit to see Scott in our hospice in-patient unit, I could tell he was taking his last breaths. His mom and sisters were at his side. He had been in such great pain that he was totally sedated. His breathing stopped. The tears flowed after months of anticipating this moment.

I summoned the nurse. She asked Scott’s mother, “Would you like to hold him?” Of course, she would. It had been months since she could even touch him because of the pain.

The nurse gathered the sheet around Scott’s body and placed him in his mother’s lap. She held him tenderly, stroking his face, and telling him of her love. I later told a friend of the scene and he said it reminded him of Michelangelo’s Pietà. It was indeed a very similar scene, a mother cradling the body of her broken son.

A few days later, I told Scott’s mother about my friend’s comment. That’s when, beer and cigarette in hand, she said, “So, I remind you of the Virgin Mary?”

This experience came to mind as I read a Washington Post story about the stunning rise in the use of cremation. Now, 57% of our dead are cremated compared to 27% just two decades ago. Along with the traditional casket burials, Americans are having less to do with the dead. Many have no rituals at all surrounding the death of one they love.

Undertaker Author Thomas Lynch

Many want to avoid the greater expense of a traditional funeral and burial. But, perhaps, many want to avoid being around the dead body or the emotional strain of the rituals. Thomas Lynch, a Michigan poet and funeral director of 50 years said in the Post article, “People want the body disappeared, pretty much. I think it reminds us of what we lost.” In the United States, Lynch notes, “this is the first generation of our species that tries to deal with death without dealing with the dead.”

I will say, there is another trend that runs counter to this criticism that we Americans are avoiding the dead. More and more people are dying at home which gives the family the opportunity to be with the departed. A century ago, almost everyone died at home. This can provide that ritual lost with the demise of the traditional funeral.

Rest in peace.

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You Can Never Make a Wrong Decision

Posted April 21, 2022 by [email protected]

“I made a mistake. I made the wrong decision,” the wife of the recently deceased man said.

Several years ago, I spoke at the Centra Hospital in Lynchburg, Virginia. There were about 50 people in the room, including members of the clergy, physicians, nurses, social workers, and just plain folks. I divided my presentation, the first half devoted to helping patients and families make end-of-life decisions, and the second half to the emotional and spiritual issues at the end of life.

When I invited the audience to speak, a lady raised her hand and told her friend’s story. Her friend’s husband had been in a nursing home and on a feeding tube. He was not considered to have the capacity to make his own medical decisions, so all the medical treatment decisions rested on his wife.

On more than one occasion, the patient pulled out the feeding tube. This lady suggested to her friend that perhaps her husband was saying he did not want the feeding tube. Her friend always responded, “He doesn’t know what he is doing.” They always reinserted the tube and resumed the feedings.

“I should have left the tube out and let him die sooner.”

About six months after the patient died, the lady visited her friend. The now-widow said, “I made a mistake. I made the wrong decision. I should have left the tube out and let him die sooner.”

At times, I have heard other family caregivers express similar regrets about decisions made. “We shouldn’t have sent mom back to the ICU.” “I wish we had never started the feeding tube.” “We kept the chemo going way too long.”

You can never make the wrong decision

When I hear remorse like this, I always tell people, “You can never make the wrong decision. You make the best decision you can with the information you have at the time.” In my 28 years of being close to decision-makers, I have never thought someone made a decision intending to harm a patient. People always want the best for the patient. It is only in looking back that they say a decision was a mistake.

I even say “you can’t make a wrong decision” to people in the throes of a decision-making process. I hope to ease the burden they are placing on themselves. These choices can be hard enough. I want to assure these burdened families they can’t make the wrong decision. You just do the best you can with the information you have at the time.

[A version of this blog post appeared in 2011.]

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Photo by Nik Shuliahin on Unsplash

“God has a lot of explaining to do.”

Posted March 24, 2022 by [email protected]

The daughter started her eulogy, “I am so angry. God has a lot of explaining to do….” I sat there, stunned, now wondering how in the world I could follow such a performance.

I’ve had the opportunity to officiate many funerals over the years. This was supposed to be one of the “easy” ones. The dead man’s family had a relative who once was a member of my church in Vienna, Virginia, back in the day. None of the family attended that church now — or any church. So, when the man died suddenly of a heart attack at 64, they turned to us for a minister to conduct the service — kind of a rent-a-preacher.

Our pastor was out of town, and it fell to me to fill in. It sounded straightforward enough. They just needed me to be an emcee, so to speak. The daughter would do a eulogy, and we would open the floor for others to give tribute to the recently departed.

As I met with the daughter and granddaughter to plan the funeral, they made it clear that this family was not religious and did not want a lot of God-talk. They agreed to a prayer and Psalm 23. That was that. No sermon. Little religion. I would just show up at the funeral home, conduct the service, get paid, and go home.

I walked into a whole new world

When I entered the funeral home before the service, I walked into a whole new world (for me, at least). At the front of the chapel, a NASCAR flag draped the casket. The deceased’s helmet sat on top — a tribute to his years as a driver on the small-town racing circuit. Scores of people milled around, some laughed, some cried.

Vince Gill

Overhead speakers pumped in country music. Vince Gill sang, “I know your life on earth was troubled / And only you could know the pain… Go rest high on that mountain / Son, your work on earth is done.”

People took their seats in the pews, and I started the service with a few opening remarks. Then it was the daughter’s turn. “I am so angry. God has a lot of explaining to do. My father was a good man. He had no enemies. He loved his children and grandkids. He worked hard and provided for us. God has a lot of explaining to do.”

This was no time for theological argument

As she spoke, I sat there running through my mind things to say to offer another view of her father’s sudden, unexpected death. I thought about referencing Rabbi Kushner’s When Bad Things Happen to Good People. Kushner believed some things, including some deaths of people we love, just happen at random — a belief I share. But obviously, this was not the time nor place to get in a theological argument.

Then the wisdom of Fr. Seamus O’Reilly came to mind. As he talked to his parishioners about the AIDS epidemic in the 1980s, which some Catholics believed was punishment for sin, the wise priest said:

“God always forgives.
“Humans sometimes forgive.
“Nature never forgives.”

The man had died from a malfunction of his heart. Nature requires that our hearts pump life-giving blood in our veins. This man died of natural causes. “Nature never forgives”? No, that wouldn’t do.

Bless her heart — she was deeply grieving

The daughter’s angry tone did soften partway through her speech. It was clear she was an adoring daughter. She gave a touching and loving tribute to her father, as good a eulogy as I had ever heard from a family member. But she ended where she began, “God has a lot of explaining to do.”

When my turn came, I know I started with, “Death is always a mystery…” and kept it brief. I was speechless after witnessing this woman’s pain. I think everyone else was speechless, too, because few spoke when I opened the floor.

I’m always amazed when those who claim not to be religious will often blame God for tragedy. The funeral could have been a wonderful opportunity to be thankful for the great gift of the time she had with her father. But, bless her heart, she was deeply grieving the loss of her beloved father. I felt so sorry for her that her hurt had turned to anger.

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Having a “Happy Death” — How weird is THAT?

Posted March 17, 2022 by [email protected]

Recently, Roman Catholic Pope Francis referred to Saint Joseph as the “patron of a happy death.” Here’s the problem: I usually associate happiness with smiles, laughter, and a sense of the lightness of life. “Happy” and “death” are hard for me to connect.

The Pope stood before a General Audience and introduced the phrase “happy death” in the first words he spoke about Joseph (you know, Joseph, the husband of Mary and earthly father of Jesus). He never again used the word “happy” in his brief remarks.

What is it about the word “happy”? Why is it so hard to associate it with death and dying?

I want to drop off a “happy”

Three years ago, we moved to the Deep South in the hill country of Oxford, Mississippi. Here we might get a call from a friend, “Y’all going to be home? I want to drop off a happy.” That means she’s going to bring over a gift. It might be fresh-made pimento cheese or a potted plant. Let me tell you — in Oxford, if you tell someone you are feeling sick, you will get more hospitality than you can imagine. People will be dropping off happys all day.

Then, of course, “happy” is enshrined in the Declaration of Independence with the words, “inalienable rights of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.” An earlier draft had the words “pursuit of property.” Even today, many people assume accumulating worldly treasures and wealth will make you happy. From surveys, we find out the very wealthy are not any happier than those of more modest means. Once you move out of poverty into a stable financial situation, you are as happy as you will get.

Jesus and Mary as the “hospice team”

So how did Pope Francis associate Joseph with a happy death? As far as we know, he died while Jesus still lived at home before starting his ministry. The assumption is that the dying Joseph was cared for by Jesus and Mary. They were on his “hospice team,” so to speak. I guess you could also assume you’d have a happy death having Jesus and Mary as your caregivers.

Then Pope Francis goes on to discourage prolonging dying with overtreatment. He encourages relieving suffering with pain medications and mentions palliative care. These are elements of what we today call a “good death.”

Maybe not a “happy” death but a “good” death

Recently, I wrote a blog and shot a brief video where I explored the components of a good death in the 19^thcentury. For obvious reasons, the elements of a good death in first-century Palestine, on an American Civil War battlefield, and today in a hospital have changed. We may have more tools now to control pain, but at the same time, dying can be unnecessarily prolonged by being hooked up to machines.

It doesn’t matter whether you call it “happy death” or “good death.” The hope is that we can have the best death we could imagine. Most likely, that will involve having family gathered around, being free of pain, and in a place of our choosing.

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Ending Cancer Screenings at MY Age

Posted March 10, 2022 by [email protected]

I have entered a medical-screening twilight zone. When I was in my 60s, I always got colon and prostate cancer screenings. Now, at 74, I am thinking about stopping the screenings.

Photo by Hush Naidoo Jade Photography on Unsplash

JAMA Internal Medicine recently published a research letter — “Comparison of US Cancer Center Recommendations for Prostate Cancer Screening With Evidence-Based Guidelines.” The guidelines recommend that all men 50–70 years old have an annual screening, regardless of their risk factors for prostate cancer. They suggest the patient and clinician share the decision to do this screening.

The clinician should also inform the patient of both the risks and benefits of the screening. There are downsides to prostate cancer screenings at any age — false positives, misdiagnoses, and overtreatment. Treatment can cause urinary, bowel, or sexual function problems — things I would rather avoid.

Why stop at 70? Turns out, the research shows that annual screenings of men with no other risk factors for prostate cancer do NOT reduce their chance of dying of all causes. In other words, both men who did and did not get screened lived about the same number of years.

My greatest fear is dementia

My greatest fear is that I spend my last years with Alzheimer’s, fully demented and a great burden to my family. Once I get that diagnosis, I would welcome an earlier death by cancer.

Years ago, I heard the story of a woman in a nursing home who no longer recognized her family because of dementia, and she had a mastectomy. They saved her life so she could get more demented.

I did not know this woman and her family well enough to hear about their decision-making process. Perhaps, the patient had stated before losing her mind that she wanted everything done to keep her alive. Maybe, her physicians told the family they had to do the surgery and gave them little choice.

I do not judge this family and their decisions. I take it as a warning for my family and me.

In my case, let the cancer grow

If I live to my 90s but am confined to a wheelchair in a memory-care unit, I do NOT want to be checked for cancer. We do not allow euthanasia in this country, but we do respect a patient’s right to refuse treatment. For me, in the presence of dementia, I would want cancer to run its course. Perhaps this could save my family years of heartaches.

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Archive for the ‘Death & Dying’ Category

Alone into the Alone — “A Grief Observed” Revisited

More Nothing than Something — True Solace is Finding None

Being Sued for SAVING the Life of a Patient

On The Other Hand, “I don’t want to die at home.”

“Not so fast, my friend.”

The Lonely, Difficult Journey of COVID Grievers

COVID Grievers Face an Unprecedented Time to Grieve

Don’t ask, “Were they vaccinated?”

The Rise of Cremations and Our Need to be with the Dead

You Can Never Make a Wrong Decision

“I should have left the tube out and let him die sooner.”

You can never make the wrong decision

“God has a lot of explaining to do.”

I walked into a whole new world

This was no time for theological argument

Bless her heart — she was deeply grieving

Having a “Happy Death” — How weird is THAT?

I want to drop off a “happy”

Jesus and Mary as the “hospice team”

Maybe not a “happy” death but a “good” death

Ending Cancer Screenings at MY Age

My greatest fear is dementia

In my case, let the cancer grow

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