My brother and his wife recently put their beloved German Shorthair to sleep. Dudley was ready. (The photo is not of him). Bro said Dudley told them when when it was time, and they put him on a blanket in the yard and gave him the blue juice (my sis-in-law is a veterinarian.) I am sure they petted him and cried, but it sounds like a pretty good way to go. Dudley died with the sun on his flanks, the smell of grass in his nostrils, and the love of his family all around him. I wish we humans would permit each other such a sweet farewell.
Of course, that’s not how we do it, because human life is more valuable than dog life, and the risk is too great. Instead, we pull out all the stops to keep each other alive in spite of great illness, pain and struggle. Or at least that’s how the general public handles it. Doctors? That’s another story.
In this article entitled How Doctors Die by Ken Murray, a cardiologist reveals that doctors are so averse to the normal life-saving techniques visited on the dying that they even go so far as to have No Code (i.e., no CPR) tattooed on their bodies. Here is one reason: did you know that in order to properly conduct CPR on a patient, ribs are usually broken? How’d you like your old mom to have to deal with that? Here’s an excerpt:
Almost all medical professionals have seen what we call “futile care” being performed on people. That’s when doctors bring the cutting edge of technology to bear on a grievously ill person near the end of life. The patient will get cut open, perforated with tubes, hooked up to machines, and assaulted with drugs. All of this occurs in the Intensive Care Unit at a cost of tens of thousands of dollars a day. What it buys is misery we would not inflict on a terrorist. I cannot count the number of times fellow physicians have told me, in words that vary only slightly, “Promise me if you find me like this that you’ll kill me.” They mean it. Some medical personnel wear medallions stamped “NO CODE” to tell physicians not to perform CPR on them. I have even seen it as a tattoo.
I have had more surgeries than your normal 57-year-old, and were it not for these surgeries I’d have been dead several times over. I think I have a bod that’s inclined that way, so I think about things like this, and if I were to receive a grave diagnosis, I’d forego all the extreme measures and enjoy the rest of my time on earth. What a privilege to have enough advance notice that you could get your files in order (shutting down all my online accounts would take days!) and lay the groundwork for sending your loved ones off into the future comfortably instead of torturing yourself with toxic chemicals and premature hospitalization.
Of course, the problem is that medical knowledge is incomplete, and we can’t often say with a high degree of certainty that all efforts are useless and we may as well go quietly, but if I were lucky enough to get such certainty, I think I’d rather get the blue juice. Wheel me close to the window, hook me up to the morphine, and adios, muchachos.
I hope I didn’t bum you out but I believe this topic deserves more attention. Now that I’ve raised the issue, I’ll drop it. The sun’s coming up, the day is young, and we’ve got livin’ to do.
Hey Lynne, I couldn’t agree with you more. As a health care professional, I have seen far too many “heroics” performed on people over the years who should have been able to die in peace and dignity. That ‘s why Advanced Directives were initiated where a person puts their wishes in writing for when the time comes. As far as a family pet, our 12 year old Golden, Rosie, is clearly deteriorating and we are wishing a peaceful death for her. We are watching and waiting and if she begins to suffer, we will have to make “the ” decision. We want a “gentle death” for our beloved furry companion and certainly wish the same for ourselves and our loved ones.
When our old dog’s time had come, we called in our vet who gently and kindly helped Tara “over the bridge.” Our companion of many years was comfy in her bed and surrounded by her pet and human friends. The veterinarian was one of the very few I’ve ever met who would make house calls.
A gentle death AND house calls. Humans should be so lucky. Thanks for stopping by, Stephanie.
Always happy to help. Thanks, for another great post Lynne.
In 2008 Washington state voters passed the Death with Dignity Act which legalizes physician assisted dying with certain restrictions. This emulates the 1994 Oregon law which has been very controversial over the years. Montana, I believe has passed a similiar law recently. It gives me comfort to live in a state that offers this end of life option. I’m surprised that only 3 states have pursued this issue.
Well, there’s my answer. Maybe at the end I’ll move north?
In Switzerland, euthanasia is legal and there is an organization called Exit designed to help provide this choice. Exit cannot administer the drugs, but they can provide them when a patient, who has enrolled in their program, decides the time is right. It gives people a gentle way to leave us with dignity and grace.
Wonder if we’re doing that in the US?
Lynne, I’m so glad you wrote about this. You have expressed what I have come to believe for years and years. I have a friend with multiple chronic medical illnesses whom I have watched being brought back to life time and time again over the years. Each time, he says, “No, I don’t want to live, please just let me die,” and each time, they bring him back, despite the Do Not Resuscitate form tacked on the wall by his bed. He is now living precariously from day to day feeling miserably ill, is estranged from his family, and is living on Social Security with help from the government. He feels that no one wants to help him, yet no one wants to let him die. His life is suspended in a sad state of limbo. He often dreams of running in the fields with his dog Maggie, something he has not been able to do for three decades. His life is a testimony to the fact that much needs to change in the right-to-die arena. Your article gives voice to this. Thank you, Amanda
Amanda, how can this be? If he has an advance directive saying clearly that he does not want to be revived, who is overriding his orders? Isn’t there something he can do to threaten these people? Or something? I’m so sad to hear of this.
I couldn’t believe it either, Lynne. The last time he was hospitalized, I made sure the nurses had everything in order on the DNR form and saw it myself on the wall. However, after a week or so of being in critical condition with his primary doc saying he could die any moment, my friend told me that in the middle of the night his breathing slowed and he became unresponsive, and the next thing he remembers is that “some big guy” was on top of him doing CPR. This man has severe osteoporosis, end stage emphysema, chronic bouts of MRSA, pneumonia with kidney infection several times a year, chronic ulcer disease, etc, and has been this way as long as I have known him. I speculate that hospital personnel are maybe more worried about repercussions legally or losing their jobs if they don’t resuscitate than they do about the wishes of a perpetually dying man. He has requested not to return to this hospital for obvious reasons.
Lynne,
another great topic to explore here. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve felt & said this-at the end, we are kinder to animals than humans. I won’t offer more because of family but I’ve witnessed close family members suffer needlessly in the name of ‘hospice care’–I’m an RN practitioner turned writer & have seen a lot of death up close. I also took 2 of my own dogs in when it was their time and I will tell you, my doggies had a blessed ending by comparison to the many human deaths I’ve witnessed. If our culture would only focus on ‘end stage’ care with the same passion some give to ‘beginning of life’ debate, maybe more fully formed human beings would be able to go peacefully.
With your background, your voice has authority. Thanks for weighing in, MM.
PS I loved being able to hang out with you in person last weekend. Cyberspace is nice but being in the same room together, even better!
It takes courage to go when we know it’s our time, to leave everything and everyone we know; courage to go into what is truly unknown despite what faith or religion tells us we get in death. And it can also take courage to demand that we be allowed to die, to push back against well-meaning family or friends who want to hang on to us at all costs.
Yes, Linda, great courage at a time when we’re at our weakest. Truly a conundrum.
Lynne, I had to put my beloved 13-year-old bulldog and 19-year-old tuxedo cat to sleep in the same year, and I have always thought that it’s a shame we can’t offer the same relief to humans. A recent “60 Minutes” episode chronicled how many medical professionals let people linger long after they should have been allowed to die just so the hospitals and doctors can make more money. The show reported that last year, Medicare paid $50 billion just for doctor and hospital bills during the last two months of patients’ lives – more than the budget of the Department of Homeland Security or the Department of Education. And 20 to 30 percent of these medical expenditures may have had no meaningful impact. Most of the bills are paid for by the federal government with few or no questions asked. It costs $10,000 a day to keep a patient in ICU. Also, 75 percent of people die in hospitals, although most people would prefer to die at home.
Libbye, that last line of yours is amazing. Yes, I think I saw the same episode. They want to die comfortably at home but when the time comes, it’s probably hard to say, let me go. It’s nature’s way to fight! Hence the mysterious aspect of this whole question.
I believe that this life is just a small part of our time. It is a difficult question, because we don’t know for certain that we can’t be cured. There are many people walking around today that were told many years ago that they only had a short time to live. I do know after my grandmother was revived once, she asked that it never be done again, and we didn’t.
Laura
Well that is straight from the front lines. If somebody goes thru it and then says, please let me go next time, that tells me something important. You’re right, there’s a certain risk involved, but if I were given a year’s notice of my impending demise, I’d feel grateful for the time to get things in order! Not spend it getting tortured.
This is a timely post, Lynne, and very interesting. As a pet owner, I firmly believe that letting my beloved pup go when the time is right is the kindest, most loving thing I can do for him. Why is it that we humans can’t do that for our loved relatives? After all, it’s not like this life is all there is — when you believe, as I do, that you’re going to a better place, it’s not too hard to let go!
Yep, yep, yep!
My mom was able to walk on the way she wanted to, at home with family at her side. It’s the way I’d like to move along, if I can keep the world at bay with the same courage and heart she did. Thanks for sharing Dudley’s story, Lynne.
Thanks, Linda. So was my MIL. We all hope for that.
I agree. When my father in-law died we told Mom ,”you need to tell him it is OK to go.” She thought that was strange since he appeared to be in a coma. She said good-bye and told her husband of 72 years it was OK to go. My husband prayed as soon as she did that and Dad took his last breath as Curt said Amen. A perfect way to go.
Oh my gosh, Barbara, what a beautiful story. Something for you to draw comfort from. Thanks for telling us.
Lynn, I couldn’t agree with you more. I often (okay, not often, but sometimes) try to plot a way to make the end arrive the the way I want it to. Sadly, most often at the end we have no personal power. Dudley was a lucky dog. And well loved.
Delana, I think we should think more about having a good death. Sure, we can’t plan everything. But what if by thinking about it and writing it down, sharing it with somebody who might be able to effect it when we can no longer speak? (Advance directive, at the very least). Below, Linda Robinson implies that her mother was able to give her kids something to take into the future: a sense of relief. A nice last bequest.