A Good Death.

So I’ve mentioned it before, but let’s address it—what constitutes a Good Death. I grew up in a medical family. Hospitals are not scary places for us. Death is a natural progression, and while it sucks, I think we are sort of fatalistic and clinical about it. It happens, sometimes in spite of everyone’s best efforts, and there isn’t anyone to blame, there is just so much you can do. My paternal grandfather and my maternal grandmother both died while in the hospital, under the best round the clock care, of complications that essentially amounted to old age. It was their time.
My Ex-husband’s family, on the other hand, has had several members die well before their time. The thing that their family does differently is that they bring them home to die. Someday I’ll write about who they were and how they died, but today’s point is that they died at home--Surrounded by family, cared for by the people who loved them best. Everything ground to a halt, and their death was the focus of every family member. In my family, everyone continued to go to work each day, and they fit their visits in around the continuation of life.
I’m nauseated just thinking about it, but when the time comes for my folks, I want to make sure that we change that cycle. I want to give them the kind of loving care that my in-laws received. I’ve talked to my mom about this, and she does not want to die in a hospital room. She would like to pass on surrounded by family, not staff.
I know that it’s not always possible, that life happens, but if I can do that one thing for my mom, it seems so important to try. My brother’s wife is a nurse. I won’t expect her to step into that role (although I know she’d be perfectly willing—she’s a doll), it’s something I’d like to do for my mom, when the time comes. My dad? I honestly don’t know. I don’t know how he feels about it all. But the fact that my mom has said it out loud to me means that I have to make sure it happens the way she wants.
My folks are spry and in their mid-sixties, and I expect that the Honey’s mom will be the next to pass. She will probably be in a hospital bed when it happens. She and I don’t have that kind of relationship where I could take care of her—aside from the whole language barrier. I find myself at a loss each time she goes into the hospital—I just don’t have enough medical knowledge to be helpful. I feel that lack keenly as I contemplate the day my folks are in that situation. I don’t want to force all decisions onto my brother and his wife. That’s a heavy burden. My parents have been the medical experts in my life—who will guide me when it comes to their issues? I know that they will have relationships with medical professionals that they trust and respect, and ultimately, I’m sure I will lean on those people, and be grateful that I can know that my folks respected those people.
I suspect that often the quality of medical care is a crapshoot. The doctor you get is determined by your HMO rather than any firsthand knowledge of their skill level or professional reputation. I don’t want to even think about my parents dying, but I want to be ready to step up when the time comes and make sure that their death is a good death. I hope I have that chance.