I think it was 3 or 4 days prior to my husband’s death his kidneys failed. Me, my sister (she didn’t have official standing but she IS a hospice doctor), and his oncologist all concurred that, well, it was yet another thing going wrong and came up with a strategy to keep him comfortable with no kidney function (basically, WAY cutting back on the IV fluids) without inventions (i.e. dialysis).
Settled, right?
No, another doctor confronted me and said I HAD TO put my husband on dialysis RIGHT NOW!!!
I said no.
HE’S GOING TO DIE IF HE’S NOT ON DIALYSIS!!!
And I looked at the doctor and said even if he IS on dialysis he’s going to die. He’s not going to last even a week. No matter what we say or do he’s going to be dead by this time next week so what’s the point of putting him through dialysis since it won’t do him a damn bit of good?
Shocked that doctor into silence, it did. And I walked off… and went and asked my sister and his oncologist if I had done the right thing. Because no matter how sure I was, there’s that nasty, nasty toxic form of hope that if I just do X there will be a miracle and it will be alright…
Yeah, I was right - he died before the week was out. But not because I refused a form of treatment for him. He died because he had terminal cancer that we don’t have the means to fix. He also died as comfortably as we could manage (a half an hour before he died we asked him if he was in pain and he said no, he was comfortable). I don’t know if that would have been possible if we were trying to wheel him down to dialysis a couple times a week, when moving him at all at that point could cause him a great deal of pain even with pain meds. I doubt it.
The point of this anecdote is that no matter what decision you make someone, often someone with a string of fancy letters after his or her name, is going to come along and second guess you. And it can be hard to stick to your guns when a medical professional who is unquestionably better educated than you in medical matters tells you that you need to do something or that you are wrong. There are plenty of doctors who fear death. It’s not just greed, or just that they’ve been taught to do things a certain, or whatever - doctors are human, too (well, maybe not our favorite Mercotan
) and have their fears and hangups just like the rest of us. I guess that’s a warning, too - no matter what you decide, someone is going to second guess your decision, so be ready for that.
On the other hand, a lot of medical people supported my decision, too - there was an ER doctor we’d seen a few times before who, the last time my husband went through the ER, actually gave a sigh of relief when I told him comfort measures only. He doesn’t like, as he put it, torturing the dying even when well-meaning relatives request it, doesn’t like doing CPR on people over 90 and smashing up their ribcages to get a failing heart going again (that morning a 103 year old woman had been brought in with EMTS doing CPR on her… she actually survived in the sense her heart was beating again. Of course, her ribs and sternum were broken, too, she was unconscious, likely would never wake up, but with no DNR they system had no legal choice in the matter). When I then started to question every test and med (“How is this going to make him more comfortable? Is this necessary? Will this cause him more pain and if so what’s the pay off?”) he chuckled and said when his time comes he hopes he has someone like me in his corner.
The nurses were absolutely super that last week. I think some of them were happy to have a chance to do hands-on care that involved making someone feel better rather than needle-sticks and handing out pills.
It will take more than “death panels”. It will take a paradigm change in society where we get past the notion that medicine can fix everything, where relatives who make the hard decisions aren’t second-guessed and pressured to change their minds (ditto for patients who are still competent) and we accept that everyone dies in the end, of something, and if we can’t “fix” a person we need to focus on their comfort rather than chasing false hope. At some point the goal needs to shift from “cure” to “comfort”, and we need to see it as just as much a victory as a cure and not some form of “giving up”, because it isn’t. Maximizing the quality of my loved one’s life in his or her last few days is just as much a victory as a cure for cancer or heart disease in my mind. Having my husband’s final moments be with me in a sun-filled room over looking trees and the prairie, with his hand in mine and my head on his shoulder, with no sounds intruding other than the voices of family and the sounds of his favorite music box was a far better end and a victory over him lying in a windowless room in an ICU with more and more tubes and wires between him and human contact, with alarms and buzzers going off all around him.
::: brief pause involving a box of tissues :::
**So, think about the end your MIL would want, and try to find a way to make it happen. It’s the last, great gift you can give to someone. **It doesn’t matter if that end is this coming Friday or six years down the road or whatever, you can set up the machinery to help make it happen now, and it’s probably better to do it sooner rather than later. Of course it’s sad, death is always sad, but it’s also enormously rewarding as well to give someone a good send off.