5 Important Lessons About Life I Learned From Death

2013-11-15_0918

For the first 24 years of my life, I never really took the time to sit down and think about death.

Most people don’t after all… and usually not until it’s too late. But at the age of 24, when I was offered an internship at a hospice care center,  I was forced to think about (and be around) death… all the time.

I spent my days with people whose beautiful journey we call life was coming to an end. They say the last few days of someone’s life are the most meaningful, so I consider myself to be lucky for having the opportunity to be a part of these people’s lives, even if it was just for a few short days.

Because you know what the funny thing about death is? It teaches you more about life than anything else in this world ever could.

So in honor of National Hospice and Palliative Care Month, here are five valuable lessons I learned during my time as a hospice care worker:

1. You can’t take pain away.

To this day, I believe my first experience “having the talk” with someone about their end-of-life journey is the one that’s affected me the most. It was an older man who was always incredibly happy and pleasant. His wife was equally as pleasant – driving to the hospital every single day just to be with him all day long. The man had cancer, and the doctors realized quickly that his cancer was pretty much incurable. So, the hospice team and I sat down with this man and his wife and asked him what his understanding of his medical situation was. When we asked him that, he knew what was coming. He started fiddling with his sheets, and suddenly refused to look any of us in the eyes. He said, “My understanding is that there’s no light at the end of the tunnel.”

At that moment, my heart broke a little bit.

One week after we had that end-of-life conversation, the man passed away peacefully at his home with his loyal wife by his side. It was a hard for me to accept because this was the first time I actually watched someone’s life end. When I found out about his death, I was devastated. This was the same man I just met one week ago who seemed fine, and now he was gone. I began to worry for his family and his wife. What were they going to do? How would his wife get by without him? I asked myself those same questions every night for a while before I eventually realized a valuable lesson…

The lesson? You can’t take away people’s pain, no matter how hard you try. The only guaranteed thing we have in this life is death. There’s no way around it. No easy way to talk about it. All you can do is give people the tools they need to make their end-of-life decisions. No matter how much I wished I could have saved that man, I couldn’t. All I could do is give him my knowledge and expertise and hope for the best. I still think about this man to this day.

 

2. It never gets easier to have “the talk.”

I’ll never forget the day I met a man who was suffering from lung cancer. We sat him down in a room to let him know that the only thing we could do was make him comfortable, because his cancer could never be cured. So, we told him that we could send him home with medication that would make it as painless as possible as he slowly slips away.

When we broke the news to him, he didn’t even blink. His wife didn’t either. They sat there, so matter-of-fact, that it made me uncomfortable. “Can I just go home?” he asked, again, without blinking. When we explained to him that we couldn’t send him home with 8 liters of oxygen because it was a fire hazard, he said, “OK, so we’re going to do it here?” His wife got out her calendar, and said “Yep, OK, we’re gonna do it here.” And that was that. As I turned to leave the room that day, I wasn’t sure what to say, so I mustered: “I hope to see you Monday when I’m here”. When I came in Monday morning, he was gone. I read his obituary in the paper a few days later.

The lesson I learned from this experience is an important one for my career. I learned that no matter how many times you “have the talk” with someone, it never gets easier. Because you never know how someone will react when you tell them they’re going to die. Some people are standoffish, some are stoic, and some aren’t exactly sure how to handle it. Everyone reacts in a unique way, because everyone views their end-of-life differently. You have to be prepared to change the way you talk to someone about the inevitable, because you can never tell how someone will react.

 

3. Don’t ever take the little things for granted.

There was a younger man who went into the emergency room because he was experiencing abdominal pain and wasn’t feeling well. When the doctors took a closer look at him, they found cancer everywhere. It was already to the point where there was nothing they could do. The doctors told him that chemo would only put him in more pain, so this was the end. When he came to the hospice center , he wanted to go home immediately. He was so worried that he would leave a lot of loose ends untied for his family. Would he have time to show his wife where the hoses are, or how to the alarm system? Would he be able to show his kids where their college funds are?

What I learned from this man is this: we think we have a lifetime to teach our spouses the simple things in life like where the hoses are. But the truth is, we don’t. The only guaranteed thing in life is death, so you have to be prepared for the worst. Have the important discussions with your spouses and families now, because you never know what’s going to happen to you today or tomorrow.

 

4. There’s no universal definition of a “good life.”

One man I worked with was told he had pancreatic cancer. If you haven’t known anyone with pancreatic cancer, it’s a very messy and painful cancer. Usually, by the time it’s found, it spreads so much that there’s not much anyone can do. However, the doctor my patient had was very optimistic about trying to save this man’s life. Don’t get me wrong, it came from a good place, and I appreciate his optimism. But this man ended up spending 30 days in the hospital when he could have been at home, spending time with his wife and son. Because he and his doctor fought so long to beat the cancer, this man didn’t end up going home until the last eight days of his life.

After my experience with this man, I’ve learned how important quality of life is. But even more, I’ve learned that everyone’s definition of quality of life is different. There is no right or wrong way to spend the last days of your life. Some people try and fight it to the bitter end. Others just want to be comfortable and spend the rest of their time with their family. It’s hard to know when it’s that it’s hard to know when it’s too late – and even harder to understand and accept. So, I’ve learned to respect everyone’s decision and give them the tools they need to make the best of the decision they choose.

5. We are never, ever alone.

At the time I accepted my internship at a hospice care center, ironically, my grandmother was under the care of hospice. She hadn’t spoken in days because she was so sick and weak. But one night, when I was lying next to her bed, she sat up in the middle of the night and said “father”.  Just a few hours later, she passed away.  I’ve always been a very spiritual person and always let God lead me in the right direction, so maybe I’m biased. But, after experiencing things like this, there’s no doubt in my mind that you’re not alone in the last days of your life. More often than not, people would report seeing or hearing their family members during the last days of their lives.

For me, experiencing these instances has made me feel like in the end, we’re not alone. I truly believe our loved ones will be there to greet us and help us make the transition from one world onto the next. This may not be a lesson for everyone, but at least I know that when it’s my time, I’ll feel safe in knowing that I will never, ever be alone.

 

The most valuable lesson

I remember on one of the last days of my internship, as I sat in the room with someone who had just passed away, a soft song played over the intercom to let the hospital employees know that a baby was born. As sad as it was to sit in this room with someone who just lost their life, it was comforting to know that life keeps going. When one soul leaves this world, another one enters.

It took me a while to really understand this, but I think working at a hospice care center taught me that death… it isn’t something to be afraid of. It isn’t something you can fight. In fact, death is the most important part about life. And the moment you realize that, it will make all the difference.

Do you work for a hospice care center? What lessons have you learned from your experience? Share yours in the comments below!

Leave a Reply

Note: You can use basic XHTML in your comments.

  1. Next day at the hospice – the procession | Preserve Your Memories and Save Your Self

    […] 5 Important Lessons About Life I Learned From Death (funeralone.com) […]

  2. The Lump in my Throat | terry1954

    […] 5 Important Lessons About Life I Learned From Death (funeralone.com) […]

  3. April Simanoff

    My shift is Friday night at Hospice House in East Northport, New York, and
    this is a very unique stand-alone facility. Having only eight rooms means we are
    at maximum capacity with a small number of patients, and this is truly like a
    house. A temporary home for many of the families who visit, there is a
    farmhouse kitchen, living room, sunroom. A den and an intimate dining
    room/meeting room, two more rooms that also have options of privacy for family
    meetings. A family friendly setting, much like an Inn or a Bed and Breakfast,
    patients are welcome to receive visits from their pets, and children have ready
    access to games and crafts.

    I am so fortunate to be able to interact with caregivers, patients, and
    visitors. I find that although my discussions with immediate family members
    center around understanding the crisis of preparing for the inevitable, my time
    spent with patients is oftentimes about maintaining a normal conversation on
    topics that interest them. Continuing to live in the moment, because after all,
    this is all we are guaranteed. I will prepare simple meals for patients, and
    yes, I will also sit and hold a patient’s hand until he or she has fallen
    asleep.

    As a volunteer, many feelings remain unsaid, but a common theme is the
    anxiety patients carry with them. Patients are restless and fearful and I am
    just as happy to sit and listen to whatever is on their minds, pass the time by
    doing most of the talking, or just pull up a chair beside their bed to be a
    silent presence.

  4. April Simanoff

    My shift is Friday night at Hospice House in East Northport, New York, and
    this is a very unique stand-alone facility. Having only eight rooms means we are
    at maximum capacity with a small number of patients, and this is truly like a
    house. A temporary home for many of the families who visit, there is a
    farmhouse kitchen, living room, sunroom. A den and an intimate dining
    room/meeting room, two more rooms that also have options of privacy for family
    meetings. A family friendly setting, much like an Inn or a Bed and Breakfast,
    patients are welcome to receive visits from their pets, and children have ready
    access to games and crafts.

    I am so fortunate to be able to interact with caregivers, patients, and
    visitors. I find that although my discussions with immediate family members
    center around understanding the crisis of preparing for the inevitable, my time
    spent with patients is oftentimes about maintaining a normal conversation on
    topics that interest them. Continuing to live in the moment, because after all,
    this is all we are guaranteed. I will prepare simple meals for patients, and
    yes, I will also sit and hold a patient’s hand until he or she has fallen
    asleep.

    As a volunteer, many feelings remain unsaid, but a common theme is the
    anxiety patients carry with them. Patients are restless and fearful and I am
    just as happy to sit and listen to whatever is on their minds, pass the time by
    doing most of the talking, or just pull up a chair beside their bed to be a
    silent presence.

  5. April Simanoff

    My shift is Friday night at Hospice House in East Northport, New York, and
    this is a very unique stand-alone facility. Having only eight rooms means we are
    at maximum capacity with a small number of patients, and this is truly like a
    house. A temporary home for many of the families who visit, there is a
    farmhouse kitchen, living room, sunroom. A den and an intimate dining
    room/meeting room, two more rooms that also have options of privacy for family
    meetings. A family friendly setting, much like an Inn or a Bed and Breakfast,
    patients are welcome to receive visits from their pets, and children have ready
    access to games and crafts.

    I am so fortunate to be able to interact with caregivers, patients, and
    visitors. I find that although my discussions with immediate family members
    center around understanding the crisis of preparing for the inevitable, my time
    spent with patients is oftentimes about maintaining a normal conversation on
    topics that interest them. Continuing to live in the moment, because after all,
    this is all we are guaranteed. I will prepare simple meals for patients, and
    yes, I will also sit and hold a patient’s hand until he or she has fallen
    asleep.

    As a volunteer, many feelings remain unsaid, but a common theme is the
    anxiety patients carry with them. Patients are restless and fearful and I am
    just as happy to sit and listen to whatever is on their minds, pass the time by
    doing most of the talking, or just pull up a chair beside their bed to be a
    silent presence.

  6. Sampson Greenovich

    There are some people that accept their death, others even consider themselves prepared. I hope that when the time comes in my life that I hear the news of my imminent passing that I accept it with honor. If I have done my duty, fulfilled what I set out to accomplish, and helped others, I will be ready.

    http://www.leanneodea.com.au/arranging-a-funeral/