Let's Youthenize America!

Love this commercial with one of my favorite actors, Ed Begley Jr.

PCGR: Last Call!

Palliative Care Grand Rounds, Vol. 1, Issue 2 will be held at Dethmama Chronicles on Wednesday, March 4th. The deadline for submissions will be at midnight, Sunday, March 1st (that's midnight, wherever the heck you live, before the Sunday paper hits your driveway).

The subject matter of this blog carnival can cover anything related to death and dying, hospice and palliative care, grief, care giving, business, legal and ethical issues, etc. Send a link to your submission to dethmama at g mail. com. If you run across any blog posts that you feel PCGR would be interested in, please bring it to my attention.

Chattering Irma and the Ghost of Mr. H.

0610 hrs -- Irma forgot to call the hospice when her husband died, but she did think to call just about everyone else in town that drives around with flashing lights and sirens. That's okay, it happens. It always gets itself sorted out when I get to the home.

After all the emergency personnel had left the house, one visitor remained... a volunteer, that had been called in by the paramedics to help with the distraught widow. Susan, the young, sweet-faced, nursing student was one of our city's volunteers that sit with victims and families after a traumatic event. It's a wonderful program with nothing less than saints who sign up to take the training and then go forth into horrible, gut-wrenching situations.

Although Mrs. H. was no longer overtly distraught, Susan decided to stay for the duration. Something for which I was exceedingly grateful, because it didn't take but a moment for me to realize that something was a bit "off" about Mrs. H. The poor woman wouldn't, or more likely couldn't, stop talking.The chattering was ceaseless and exhausting. Thankfully, Susan's presence added an extra pair of sympathetic eyes and ears to keep focused on the grieving widow.

Irma's conversation was largely centered on friends, neighbors and her husband. Her rambling was often hard to follow and frankly, tested one's patience. However, when she began to describe events leading up to finding her dead husband, my ears pricked up considerably:

"I was sleeping in the other bedroom and I swear, I heard Gordon say 'Goodbye!', real loud. I mean, it actually woke me up! I ran into his room and found him dead."

Well, that got my attention... Mr. H. had been deeply comatose for several days!

Irma then quickly switched her subject to the various character flaws and idiosyncrasies of her husband. As the three of us sat at the kitchen table, Mrs. H. went through the lengthy list of Gordon's faults, including anecdotal evidence to back up her conclusions. Suddenly, the patio blinds to my right, gave a "snap", swung wildly and then settled.

Susan and I looked at each other in amazement and immediately returned our attention to the closed, patio door and blinds. The blinds took one more big swing and then became quiet. Irma, with her back to the door, just kept on chattering... until she noticed that neither Susan nor I were paying attention to her:

"Well, what on earth would make that happen?", she asked.

"I don't think Gordon likes you talking about him, Irma", I answer. Susan nodded her head in agreement. Without so much as a tiny acknowledgment of the freakiness of what just happened, Mrs. H. began talking about the family friend with the low IQ.

I'd never before experienced "the unexplained" while attending the death of a patient. I must say... it was very cool.

PCGR: I'm Listening...

Palliative Care Grand Rounds, Vol. 1, Issue 2 will be held at Dethmama Chronicles on Wednesday, March 4th. The deadline for submissions will be at midnight, Sunday, March 1st (that's midnight, wherever the heck you live, before the Sunday paper hits your driveway).

The subject matter of this blog carnival can cover anything related to death and dying, hospice and palliative care, grief, care giving, business, legal and ethical issues, etc. Send a link to your submission to dethmama at g mail. com. If you run across any blog posts that you feel PCGR would be interested in, please bring it to my attention.

Thank you... and I'll be nagging you all about it again, later.

Opal: One With the Universe

I've been handling the "end" of Opal far better than expected. There has been no doubt that this was the right thing to do and if at all possible, pet euthanasia within your own home is the best choice. I was very lucky to have a vet that provided that option for us.

I have one bit of important advice for those of you approaching the possibility of euthanizing your pet... Always ask the vet about the procedure itself. If they do not use a sedative before administering the anesthesia and Euthanal, then look for someone else.

An IV site must be started which can, understandably, be very uncomfortable and frightening for your pet. Administering a sedative before the "lethal injection" allows your beloved pet to relax, forget about the "IV start" and be in a very happy place. This also gives you time for final hugs, kisses and all the things you need to tell your sweet companion.

While giving a sedative to an animal before euthanasia certainly seems like the most humane and completely logical thing to do, not all vets will follow this procedure. Trust me, this important step will mean all the difference in the quality of this experience for both you and your precious pet.

Your Moment of Awwwww...

Kittens Inspired By Kittens (with thanks to Christian Sinclair!)

Euthanasia: The Puggie Epiphany

(I have never had to euthanize a pet... ever.)

Two days ago, I scooped up my beloved, old friend, wrapped her in a blanket and took her to the vet. I really needed to talk...and I wanted to make sure that the doc could see who I was talking about.

Opal is 10 years old, nearly blind, nearly deaf and a bit senile. Over the past year and a half her back legs have gradually become useless. She drags herself about far more than she walks and if she walks, she falls. Opal has also become incontinent of bowel and bladder.

So why haven't I done something about this a long time ago? Well, she's not in pain and she enjoys her food and a good gnaw on squeaky toy. Opal is also alert and still gets great joy from scolding anyone, real or imaginary (usually imaginary), that should pass by her windows. And most of all, I love her dearly. So up until now, the positives in Opal's life seemed to outweigh the negatives. Though as I reread these last two paragraphs, I think that I can see a woman in denial.

All right, back to the vet's office... Dr. B. has examined Opal and listened intently to my tearful tale of woe and ambivalence. I know that she cannot tell me what to do about Opal, but in the midst of all of this she says:

"Euthanasia is absolutely the worst part of my job. But I have come to really believe that, if it's possible, it's far better to end a pet's life before they are completely debilitated, miserable and in pain. I think it's better for them to still be able to have the ability to enjoy their owner's love... and a lot of spoiling before they go."

Dr B.'s words are no less than a kind of enlightenment for me. I can actually feel them physically impact me. It's a quick jab to my solar plexus. Before I can even respond, the doctor adds:

"Oh, the vet tech mentioned that you asked if someone would be able to euthanize in your home. If you choose to do this, I'd absolutely come to your home. It's what I'd want for my dogs."

And that's when I wept.

(Next Friday, Opal will be surrounded by all those who love her and we will all wish her well as she goes onto her next adventure.)

Uncertain Times and Knitting

by Insurance Guru

The Guru has taken up knitting, kind of. I'm one of those Type-A get it done kinda folks. You'll never catch me in a quiet meditative pose. I do my best thinking while moving. Still, one always needs some "zen" down time so I've started knitting with a knitting loom. Perfect for me since I don't have to "knit one - purl two", count my stitches, count my rows or any other annoying knitting-type task. True, my finished product is a square or a rectangle of material - yup, scarves and blankets.

All my little dogs have new blankets, the kids have scarves whether they want them or not and now I can move on to knitting baby blankets to send to third world countries. It's quite soothing work and with the all the financial and employment chaos around, it's better than a double Prozac cocktail. If it all hits the fan, I may need this new skill in some climate-challenged, post-gaziliion dollar debt world. I wonder if I can make yarn from the bounty of my shedding dogs?

Palliative Care Grand Rounds: Vol. 1 Issue 1

The first Palliative Care Grand Rounds is now up at Pallimed. Please give them a visit and enjoy having a great read from all the contributors.

PCGR is a monthly blog carnival that will be held on the first Wednesday of the month. Dethmama Chronicles will be hosting the next one on Wednesday, March 4th. I'll be posting reminders and will be looking forward to your submissions and suggestions.

Your Moment of Awwwww...

Bella and Tara

Hospice Hitwoman and the C.Y.A.: Part 1

1820 hrs. -- This visit is going poorly. Raymond C. is very close to death and his wife, daughter and son-in-law are completely freaking out. The tension and edginess in this house are palpable and I just can't seem to give this family whatever it is they need.

"You know he's sufffering and he doesn't deserve this! No one should have to die this way!", blurts Bob, the son-in-law. Bob's wife, Marcy, is up and pacing, wringing her hands and making little whimpery noises. Mrs. C. is sitting at the dining room table and giving me the cold stare of doom.

Too Noisy

"Please, Bob", I say, "I've sat with Ray twice now and I truly feel that he's not suffering." It's true... Mr. C. is quite peaceful. Semi-comatose, no restlessness, no grimacing, not even a "rattle". Only a rare, unintelligible, soft vocalization. Maybe that's what's got them in a tizzy. Maybe they're interpreting any noise he makes as an expression of agony. One thing I feel sure of... Raymond isn't suffering. It's his family that's in torment.

Too Messy

Calmly, gently I explain my position on Mr. C's comfort in detail and attempt to assure the family that they are providing excellent care for Ray. I end by saying:

"Please, everyone...I truly feel that your suffering far exceeds anything that Ray may be going through. What can I do to help you through this difficult time?"

Hissing, nearly spitting the words through his clenched teeth, Bob responds immediately:

"I want this over with now! You, you stop it! He doesn't deserve this!"

Just Right?

Jesus, Buddha, saints and angels... I've run into this sort of "request" before, but have never heard it expressed so blatantly. How dare you think of me in this way? What were once sincere offerings of compassion are quickly turning into feelings of contempt.

To be continued...