Dying Friend Dying
Aug. 7th, 2023 08:54 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
canyonwalkerIn my weekend update earlier today I mentioned visiting a friend, "Del", who is dying. I kept it detail-light in the weekend blog so as not to drag down the tone to much. Let's face it, talking about someone who's dying is about a low a tone as you can strike.
I wrote about Del's condition 6 weeks ago. At that point he had recently moved from sleeping in a normal bed in his house to a hospital-like bed set up in the living room. That's a normal step in hospice care, when the patient is no longer able to handle getting up from bed and getting back down. BTW, in case you're not familiar with the term, hospice means palliative care only. I.e., everyone involved knows he's dying— in this case of inoperable pancreatic cancer. Attempts at curative treatment have been stopped in favor of making him as comfortable as possible before he shuffles off his mortal coil.
We also saw Del 4 weeks ago. At that point he was still at home though his condition was deteriorating. He struggled to speak and was losing attention span. He could hold a short conversation but within 20-30 seconds he'd lose context. Shortly after that he transferred to the VA hospital's community living center because his physical needs were more than his family and housemates could provide at home.
Seeing Del on Saturday showed another large and saddening step down. Del appears to be conscious. His eyes are open, though his face is quite gaunt with sunken cheeks, and he's breathing normally. But he barely signals awareness of his surroundings. He doesn't understand questions unless they're asked loudly, clearly, and very briefly. Like, you've got to ask in 5 words or less and basically prompt a yes/no answer. And even then, there's less than a 50/50 chance of an answer. Anything longer, and if he even tries to answer he gets confused, stumbles trying to form his words, and forgets the question after a few seconds.
Del's husband, D., says this is a step down from even just Thursday, when Del could still perk up for a short conversation when friends came to visit. Now near stupor seems to be the new normal.
It seems Del is in the end stage now. No, that's not a medical prognosis. All the medics stopped giving prognoses months ago after Del kicked the shit out of their initial timelines for death. But a few professionals in Del's orbit are telling D off the record that it's now a matter of days. Based on my own experience sitting by my father's bedside for his last two weeks of life, I agree. The near-catatonia is a big sign. Plus he's no longer taking nutrition or even water. If nothing else, no water means he's down to his last few days.
We likely will be attending a memorial service this coming weekend.
Update: Over the next few days Del rallied and then deteriorated again. He passed away August 15.
I wrote about Del's condition 6 weeks ago. At that point he had recently moved from sleeping in a normal bed in his house to a hospital-like bed set up in the living room. That's a normal step in hospice care, when the patient is no longer able to handle getting up from bed and getting back down. BTW, in case you're not familiar with the term, hospice means palliative care only. I.e., everyone involved knows he's dying— in this case of inoperable pancreatic cancer. Attempts at curative treatment have been stopped in favor of making him as comfortable as possible before he shuffles off his mortal coil.
We also saw Del 4 weeks ago. At that point he was still at home though his condition was deteriorating. He struggled to speak and was losing attention span. He could hold a short conversation but within 20-30 seconds he'd lose context. Shortly after that he transferred to the VA hospital's community living center because his physical needs were more than his family and housemates could provide at home.
Seeing Del on Saturday showed another large and saddening step down. Del appears to be conscious. His eyes are open, though his face is quite gaunt with sunken cheeks, and he's breathing normally. But he barely signals awareness of his surroundings. He doesn't understand questions unless they're asked loudly, clearly, and very briefly. Like, you've got to ask in 5 words or less and basically prompt a yes/no answer. And even then, there's less than a 50/50 chance of an answer. Anything longer, and if he even tries to answer he gets confused, stumbles trying to form his words, and forgets the question after a few seconds.
Del's husband, D., says this is a step down from even just Thursday, when Del could still perk up for a short conversation when friends came to visit. Now near stupor seems to be the new normal.
It seems Del is in the end stage now. No, that's not a medical prognosis. All the medics stopped giving prognoses months ago after Del kicked the shit out of their initial timelines for death. But a few professionals in Del's orbit are telling D off the record that it's now a matter of days. Based on my own experience sitting by my father's bedside for his last two weeks of life, I agree. The near-catatonia is a big sign. Plus he's no longer taking nutrition or even water. If nothing else, no water means he's down to his last few days.
We likely will be attending a memorial service this coming weekend.
Update: Over the next few days Del rallied and then deteriorated again. He passed away August 15.
