That’s not what I asked. Being faced with death is not witnessing what the final hours are really like. I think those who haven’t actually been there have an idealized impression of what happens, especially if they are faced with a life threatening illness. I am a cancer survivor as well, and I certainly didn’t imagine losing the fight in realistic terms.
Everyone who has ever died reached a point of inevitable death. If you are lucky, it is brief. But some are faced with prolonged, irreversible decline that ends in pain and terror. If you haven’t actually witnessed that, I think you will have a different perspective from someone who has.
Nobody said Death is going to cower to your mighty resolve. It’s just that some people (I include myself in that some) are too damn stubborn to say fuck it, and throw in the towel.
In answer to your first question, starting in 2003 my brother was in the hospital for almost two years. He lost usage of several of his limbs, and grew frailer and sicker each day. At one point, it seemed pretty apparent that he was going to die. He made it, but at one point we all thought we were watching our family member pass away in front of us. To call that experience unpleasant would be the greatest understatement I’ve ever made. It’s frankly insulting to suggest people here saying they’d push on til the bitter end have any insane visions of a fighter pulling through like Rocky, boxing his way into survival.
As did I. Thankfully, I got the all clear. But the experience did canse me to dwell at length on what I would have done if I hadn’t been so lucky. I’ve decided, that if I ever do get cancer, I would fight it like a crazy bastard right up until the moment I was told that nothing more could be done. Then I’d head to the airport and purchase a one-way ticket to Switzerland, or, failing that, head to the top of the nearest high rise with a pocketful of barbituates and a bottle of Jack. I wouldn’t hang around to whither away into a bedridden, eight stone, emaciated husk. And I certainly wouldn’t let the bastard cancer have the satisfaction of killing me. If I’m going to die, I’m definitely gonna do it on my own damn terms.
Watching this right now, its somewhat fascinating - and horrifying. Because there is almost no point at which my brother in laws oncologist is saying “nothing more can be done” in such a way that he hears it. He’s said there will likely be no more chemo - but you know, dialysis can keep those kidneys from shutting down. My sister, an RN who has been on this roller coaster a thousand times from the other side says this is common - and often ends with someone on a vent while the family finally comes to terms with nothing is going to save his life, but steps can be taken to prolong it, and prolonging it in a hospital bed on a vent drugged out of your gourd might not be the best choice. One intervention often leads to the next, in some sort of logical path that you don’t even know you are on.
The OP heavily implied this was a case where some time was involved, not your aforementioned “final hours and minutes, struggling to breath, wracked with pain, digging their heels into the bed, back arched against the inevitable?” Who can say what they’ll choose when the pain becomes so overwhelming and there’s absolutely no hope? Or that we’ll even keep our sanity under those conditions?
But the point is that up until that point I, like MeanOldLady am going to fight my fucking ass off. Very few illnesses are 100% fatal with no chance of remission and no hope whatsoever, at least in the early stages. Even a tiny handful of people have survived full-blown rabies.
And yes you are coming off as judging us. And as far as my experiences with facing what could have been certain death and not giving up, I’m not going to post about this on this message board.
That isn’t really what he’s saying there. He’s addressing the uncertainty of being treated, not knowing if it’ll work, of knowing you’ve given it your best shot with the best medicine and still not knowing what lies ahead.
Dying of a terminal illness is going to be terrible whether you have struggled through years of treatment or not. That part’s going to look pretty much the same no matter how much treatment you go through. What may change is how long you live first, how much time you spend being treated or hospitalized, how many side effects and how much discomfort you have to endure, and things like that. I don’t know what I’d do in this kind of situation.
My recent experience with the death of a loved one revealed that sort of “fact” to me. The loved one’s passing was (seriously) about as peaceful and graceful as one could imagine such things being (just like the movies I guess). And of course, even still, being there in the hospital was pretty damn bad all in all. More than one of the hospital staff told myself and other family members (them being our friends and coworkers and neighbors and such) that such a peaceful and graceful and relatively speaking pain free exit was by far NOT the norm. After that, talking to some other folks that have had folks pass in the hospital while they were there has just reinforced that rather unpleasant “fact”. That experience made me wish there was some sorta required public educational awareness video everybody had to watch that showed how some (most?) people actually die in hospitals and nursing homes. I suspect it would take some of the intellectual luster off the “fight to the end” point of view. And even if it didn’t do that, at least it would erase that whole Hollywood tripe BS of “I feel so tired…goodbye old friends and family…let me close my eyes now…beeeeeeeeeppppppppppppp”.
I would fight to the last breath in my body. I would endure any treatment, no matter how agonizing, and I would happily become a medical guinea pig in the off chance that it would buy me a few more days.
And when the end comes, I’m going out kicking and screaming, bleating and fighting. The Reaper will need thick gloves and a club, and my hospice nurses will likely need PTSD therapy. I’m pretty sure I’ll go out like the proverbial bitch.
It’s not because I’m a fighter. It’s because I’m a pussy. I’ve seen a lot of people die, and I want no truck with it.
I say it depends. I’d be ready to give up at a certain point. I’d tend toward “keep me alive as long as possible because this is all we’ve got” but eventually I will say “it’s all going to end for everything someday, including the universe, and my existence is going to be just a blip in the grand scheme of things whether I die today or in 5 days or in 5 years.”
I’ve seen people ground into the dirt with the best medical care on Earth. People with terminal illnesses should be given a menu of the finest pain killers to choose from and a waiver to blaze a doobie whenever they feel the need.
I think the question should be: what criteria to use for making the decision?
Not a video, of course, but the ACA had originally included money to pay for aging persons to plan ahead about this sort of thing with the help of a doctor.
As we know, this was demagogued as ‘death panels’ and dropped from the bill.
This. Fight it as long and hard as I can, but when the odds are overwhelming and quality of life has deteriorated too much, I’ll bow out. I don’t want to put SWMBO through years of having to watch me die in bits and pieces. I’ll get it over with - say my goodbyes, express my wishes to be cremated, etc. and ask all my friends to throw a helluva party for me after I’m gone. Then blow out the candle.
