I can only talk about my personal experience around the death of my dear Dad.
Daddy had metastatic prostate cancer that had moved to his bones; his spine in particular. By all reports the meds were keeping the cancer stable, however, he was in a lot of pain caused by one specific spinal (lumbar) tumour, which although not progressing, it was already putting great pressure on his spinal cord. He would be distant at times, staring into space; not focused on anything. He said his mind was blank at those times. Over time this ‘drifting off’ happened more frequently.
For this particular lumbar tumour, the oncologist decided to give him targeted radiotherapy (we still wonder if we made the right decision to have this treatment).
The tumour began to shrink over the following weeks, but this inadvertently left no support for his cancer ravaged vertebrae. At least one vertebra collapsed (no X-ray to confirm), and the pain must have been horrific as he just ‘zoned out’ to cope; the morphine wasn’t even touching anywhere near the pain relief he needed. On the morning of Wed 11th August 2021, a back brace had been delivered, his last hope of any relief… it didn’t work! His despair was palpable. I took him to a planned hospice appointment that afternoon. The consultant swiftly took me to one side and told me my father was going to die very soon. They instructed that it was time for the syringe driver. It was the saddest ever drive home. I was absolutely devastated for my Dad, and for us as a family. The hot tears streamed down my face but he never even lifted his eyes to notice, thankfully.
That evening, the syringe driver was inserted. We were told the daily meds would be upped until he slept and then slipped away. Daddy was expected to leave us that weekend, given the immense and ever increasing meds he was on! By Friday 13th Aug he was bedridden, and slept most of the time, but for using the commode (with help of 3).
The day the hospice nurse next saw him, she told us he would pass that day – Sunday 15th Aug. She stayed with us all that night. Daddy’s lower skin was already mottling and his extremities were cold. He had rarely stirred by this stage, however when we were adjusting his position to prevent bedsores, he was definitely still in great pain (it breaks my heart as I am writing this)!
On Wednesday 18th Aug, he unexpectedly came up through the meds with a period of bright clarity! He wanted food! He asked to be propped up and was interacting lucidly with us all. Daddy was in good form and ate a huge plate of custard and sponge cake; he couldn’t get it fed to him fast enough! He even said how much he loved it!
Daddy slipped into a deep sleep soon after. Next day, a slight window of brightness, asked for food, but he could only face two small teaspoons of it. Then he fell asleep; a deep, deep slumber, which looked very peaceful.
He no longer reacted when being repositioned, or gently washed down, sheets changed, or pad changed. He was simply waiting to slip away. His breaths were strong and rhythmic. I believe he had no pain at this stage. I believe the meds were doing their job and helping him towards his passing. Previous to all of this, Daddy had requested to die at home – no hospital, no hospice, no nursing home. When they could, my younger brother, my niece and nephew, all supported me to provide 24-hour care for Daddy at home. Everything was more difficult due to fear of COVID-19 and lockdown restrictions!
Then the inevitable… At 2:55am on Monday 23rd Aug 2021, alerted 15 mins before, only by a slight change in the rhythm of his breaths (not a struggle), my younger brother and I sat alongside our beautiful father. Each of us were holding a hand, and then Daddy just simply didn’t inhale again. No drama. No gasps. No rattles. No loud repeated exhales. Just the strong, gentle, quiet, graceful ebb away of a life well lived. All of his pain was finally gone!
Still very sorely missed, in our daily thoughts, and forever loved- our beautiful dad…
Donald Craig 1944 – 2021 ❤️🩹
If your question is due to your own or a loved one’s terminal diagnosis, then I’m sending you love and strength as a token of support, to wish you the resources to cope with the pending transition. Seek out medical care and hospice guidance if you can- they will steer you through the options to help make informed choices, and to face the final journey each of us will make when it becomes our turn. Gentle hugs, Lx
