Dealing With Death

It would not have been my first choice to spend Christmas Eve watching someone die.

Sitting by the bed attempting to give comfort and company as her gasping breaths provided a curiously rhythmic background to the passage of the minutes counting down the remainder of her life.

We are dealing with the impending death of a beloved relative. And yet the almost gargoyle-ish creature lying in the bed is not the woman we all loved. She has been gone for so many years now.

Just looking at the beautiful vibrant woman smiling and laughing from the gazillion pictures around the room, the enormity of the tragedy of Alzheimers is really brought home. The husk that this disease leaves behind seems to be fighting for survival because that is what it is programmed to do, for years after all real cognitive presence is long gone.

Looking down at her, all I see is the pillows lying around and the thought is always at the forefront of my mind that it would take only a few seconds to snuff out the small spark of life that remains and put an end to it. If only I had the courage.

When the call first came they didn’t give her 24 hours and he refused to leave her side. So a rota was worked out to take account of Christmas morning and those who had young children or cooking commitments. I willingly took the Christmas Eve/Christmas Day shift.

The day is punctuated by the administration of liquid antibiotics for the chest infection that we all hope will carry her off. Then an hour of listening to them bubble on her chest as her body tries to ingest them. Why are they trying to stop it? What good is a ‘recovery’ that leaves the already bed-ridden, mentally bereft patient in an even worse condition than she was previouslY?

Yes to the paracetamol that keeps the temperature down but why can’t we say no to anything else… except the morphine that they are not allowed to give – because she is ‘not in pain’. How do they know that? Is not the mental anguish she has endured all these years not pain? If she is only semi-conscious at best, how can they decide that she feels no pain?

So, they keep her comfortable, change her linen and pads and give her a wash down. Routine daily tasks that have formed the basis of her day for so many years and which she always fought. Now her body lies passively still and allows it to happen.

Her eyes stare at the ceiling, flickering to the timing of each effortful breath through that questing mouth.

Through the night, her breathing carried on with occasional momentary pauses where you hold your breath wondering if it will restart and praying that it won’t.

To give them both the release of an end.

And yet, Christmas Day dawned and she is still with us. As the festivities carry on in the world outside that room, it is hard to know how to behave or what to do.

Dealing with death as it happens before our eyes.

I keep thinking of good friends this year who have lost a loved one suddenly without any warning but watching this living death serves only to fortify my belief that such an exit is best for all concerned.

I’m not sure there are many things more cruel than this – for the victim and for those she leaves behind.