Like you say, it is very difficult to predict if one is not dying. Because that changes everything. I have a few of my wishes written in stone: I am donating my body for research to the local medical school. I have made difficult and lasting decisions with regard to my estranged daughter. I want a remembrance of my life rather than a funeral. and that's about it. I also have a DNR affixed to my wishes (Do Not Resuscitate) and am currently exploring the Dying with Dignity option here in Canada.

Thanks for sharing all of this, Ronni, it offers me comfort.

XO
WWW

It is unfathomable for anyone who is not going through it. I'd hope, for all of us, that we die pain-free in our sleep. I know that is unlikely for all - but devoutly to be wished. I hope your diagnosis was premature and that we will have you around for longer than anyone thinks.

I got a whole new perspective on the death and dying thing a few years ago when I was given a 50/50 chance of pulling through an illness, and to my surprise I was ready to accept either outcome.
Now don't get me wrong, I didn't want to die. But lying there in the I.C.U. with the sounds of monitors, respirators, and IV alarms surrounding me, I felt that I was mostly dead anyway, and all I had to do was to cross over if and when I felt that it was the right time. It's not really like being in control of our demise , but it's as good as we can expect.

My husband went through this 5 years ago. He talked about thinking he “should” be doing “important” stuff but what he actually did was slow down and appreciate nature - sunsets, landscapes, our garden. One of my friends said her plan for retirement was “being fully present “ with the people she loves, and that is what I observed and experienced with my husband. He died in the hospital which sounds harsh but he was surrounded by compassionate and knowledgeable caregivers throughout his dying.

Hello, Ronni,

You are correct, no one can nor should tell you how to die, and/or what choices you should consider. However, ALL of us who have benefited from your wisdom, your humor, and your generosity in sharing your life can tell you how much you are appreciated and loved. You are deeply etched in our hearts and we are most grateful to know you as a friend and confidant.

No two lives are alike, so it follows that no two deaths or dying experiences will be alike. Unless and until I know that a certain disease or condition is going to kill me, it's hard to imagine what the dying will be like. In my own bed, pain free, and in my sleep would certainly be my preference. I'd rather not see it coming because I'm a notorious worrier and anxiety would probably ruin whatever time I had left.

I agree -- do it your way and ignore everything else. I was thinking of a topic you could write about. What to do with your stuff? We don't have children. We do have wills and an executor will be appointed. I guess they do an estate sale and divide proceeds as directed in the will? Even so, I think about proactively whittling things down in anticipation of the big event, but I'm not ready for that yet.

Lord protect us from the know-it-alls. My daughter-in-law's mom and aunt who are slightly younger than I (75 and 72) have their Washington forms of a POLSTs, Advanced Directives, and Do Not Resusitate orders all made up, are checking out Washington's Death with Dignity laws and are pressuring me to do the same. These two took to nagging me at the weekly family dinner table. I told them put a sock in it so to speak. Both my son and daughter-in-law told them to knock it off an they did. I am pretty sure they thought they were being helpful. I do have an Advanced Directive and my two children have my medical power of attorney. I'm not on with the rest of this. It's my choice.

Otherwise I am hoping to expire watching the sun go down over the mountains or at least have nature in view, not a hospital, although even here good luck with that. I have begun doing my walking outside town along a creek with trees and birds aplenty. Two weeks ago an older aquaintence of ours died of a heart attack while hunting in the mountains he loved all his life. I was both sad and glad for him.

In the eighties a dear friend of Beth's here in California, a woman who had no expectation of survival and every expectation of a rapidly diminishing and painful quality of life, exercised her right to choose the time and circumstances of her death. I was very close to her husband and he shared his feelings about their plans as they related to her very personal choice. Ironically, that choice then was illegal but it was perhaps easier to accomplish than it would be today.

After I read your post I thought about our friends, and I thought about the work we have done to finally get the "End of Life Option Act" on the books here. And I'm shaking my head right now at the complexity the act mandates... the "patient" has to make application to both an attending and a consulting physician, both medical professionals must be consulted within 15 days of each other... and on and on. At a time when a person might rather be thinking about cutting the flowers in the front garden bed and arranging them in a vase on the bookcase, at a time when a person might be reminding himself to breathe-in and breathe-out and to repeat that sequence as necessary, they are filling out forms to apply for the right to make a choice. They are encumbered by the need for prescriptions for drugs. It kind of makes me angry.

My experience with death is mundane. I've lost great grandparents, grandparents, and parents in that order. I've shared the loss of friends and relations with people they were close to. I've taken responsibility for putting down dear pets and companion animals at the end of their lives. I'm a procrastinator by nature, but a year ago Beth and I finally got around to the formality, the paperwork, of assigning a medical power of attorney and a Do Not Resuscitate order.

"Time Goes By" has always been a reminder for me that yes, time passes, we age, and eventually we die. It's the common condition. Sometimes that reminder hasn't been welcome, other times I've been grateful for your sharing of your experience, your research, and your choices, Ronni. What you lay out each week, the essays and blog posts you publish are guide posts on this otherwise poorly mapped terrain of aging in the 21st century. The map of this terrain has many paths but it seems to me like they all lead to a package nicely wrapped and labeled "This End Up."

Thanks, Ronni. I've been working in end-of-life care (hospice and independently) for 26 years now and I've had so many different ideas about what my good death should look like (after I got over thinking about what others' good deaths should look like). I've come to realize that for me the greatest compassion and skill we can bring when we witness someone dealing with death is to just admit we don't and can't know anything and to just hold space for them going through whatever they go through.

People also often ask what I think is going to happen when I die and I've also gone thr0ugh generations of revelations and thoughts about what that's going to be like. After 26 years, when someone asks me now, I have found great comfort saying, "I don't have any idea but I hope I get to see my mother again." Blessings on you. Kim

Ronni: Thanking you once again for your efforts and thoughts on TGB.

Your post's final line truly spoke to me today. Obviously a clear propensity exists somewhere in my aging Op-Ed brain to react when I read comments of this nature- e.g."Author knows" and even worse, "You should".

We humans often state we 'know' something without any real information OR first hand knowledge. Marketing, personal chest thumping? Who knows?...not me. But, intelligence and knowledge are not the same thing, in my opinion. A bit like mistaking the milk for the cow.

Next: the 'shoulding' habits of some folks. All of my family were big fans of a British man, Ashleigh Brilliant, (yes, his real name) and his single panel cartoons in the 70s. They were called "Pot-Shots". I still have an aging yellowed promotional flier my teenagers sent for by mail. One of my favorites was a caricature of a man in a tee-shirt emblazoned.... "DON'T SHOULD ON ME!"
To the point and succinct. Now that's real communication!

Thank you as always, Ronni, for your mind-blowing wisdom and clarity. Love to you, now and always.

Ronni, you are a very brave woman.
Ever since my son died unexpectedly last year, I've thought about my death a lot, and I have been doing whatever can be done beforehand: a will, last wishes (cremation, rites), I'm disposing of my documents, letters, photos, etc, anything that is not relevant for my sons and grand children.
And I'm trying to live fully, if not happily, this last period of my life.
I agree: nobody can tell us how to die.
God bless you!

The above doesn't sound quite as I intended. Ideally, my husband and I will shuffle off at approximately the same time--within days/weeks/months of each other. We've been happily married for 40+ years and neither of us relishes the idea of carrying on alone. As two introverts in a pod, we've never had a large social circle.

We are all hanging on every world and learning from you.
I'm still in the wearing out stage. Doctor's appointments, dentist's appointments...sometimes they seem endless. I don't know beyond that yet.

Ronni:
Thanks for TGB.
I just got my copy of "As you think " by James Allen.
On page 76 he says " dream lofty dreams and as you dream so shall you become. Your vision is the promise of what you shall one day be; your ideal is the prophecy of what you shall at last unveil. "
Blessings and love.

I recently read a book about dying by an author who seemed a bit full of himself and actually had relatively little to say on the subject. However one point he made that stuck with me is that if you don't take control of your own death, there are too many people who will happily step in and do it for you. Planning how you want to die is almost an imperative. Then I watched a documentary about Timothy Leary's (planned) death and it was actually kind of sweet. I think what you are doing is spot on. I haven't planned my own exit from this mortal coil but it is more and more on my mind.

A good friend died last spring in the hospital and I was pleasantly surprised at the compassionate and sensitive care she got there. My mother and father both died at home and we kids took care of most of aspects of the process with the great assistance of a palliative care nurse. What I thought was nice about the hospital was that nursing staff took care of the more 'icky' aspects of dying so friends and family could just be with our dying friend/family member.

Oh my. So much in my heart and soul listening to what you are now facing Ronnie and dealing with my own impending loss ( of you!). This is huge! There is such an ache. You matter and are important and are our guide. A mentor. I will be rudderless and seeking some mooring. A safe harbor and more lessons to learn. Anyone want to volunteer to lead the way? We remain, or at least I do, seeking.

As to my own death, as I have expressed before quoting Wood Allen, not being there applies to not being there with pain. I don't want pain. Death should be our choice. It should not be wired and hooked up and beeping sounds. Let me go in a different setting and gently into the night.....with peace.

You are my friend. Always, even though we have not met. My sister lives in your neighborhood. Coincidence I was going to act upon someday.

With warm hugs and deep everlasting gratitude for the difference, you have made in my life.

Karin

I too have crossed the line. I might have a year, or a couple of years. Unless something else gets me first (always possible), ILD is going to be my ticket out.

I'm with you, Regina. I am old enough to die naturally. But not at home! An institutional setting might be less comfortable for me than if I had some ideal caretaker, but my husband is older than me with health problems of his own, and I really don't want my daughter and son putting their careers and families on hold to care for me. That wouldn't feel right at all. I want professionals to take care of the messy, undignified parts, so my family can concentrate on being with me when they can, and building a few more good memories of me, and of each other.

I count myself lucky that there are choices I can make in that direction. It might be the last thing I can do for them... to lead them to see that my going isn't a terrible tragedy, it's the ending of what has been, on the whole, a rather good life story.

A couple of years ago, I watched a 'TED Talk' about some of our cities (like NYC) running out of space for graveyards, and got interested in the idea of a "green burial." cremation seems to release a lot of CO2 into the atmosphere and some stuff can contaminate like lead fillings in teeth.

And, since the only places that are offerring green burials are in large metropolitan areas --I'm in outstate Michigan, I've filled out the paperwork to donate my body to a medical school.

While the thought of being a skeleton in a classroom, might not be appealing to some, I rather like the idea.

Thank you, Ronni, for sharing your wonderful journey. (A for a place for others to share, also.

Beautifully said. Profound. I agree with you 100%.

I so wish I had come across your blog years ago. Just love it: your honesty, humour, excellent writing and thoughtfulness on this overall topic (aging) and esp dying - so rarely discussed. I'm impressed by your wisdom - and not at al surprised that you don't want other people's opinions on what is a good death. It is so very personal. I volunteer at a hospice and think that is where I will want to die. Less noisy/antiseptic/clinical than a hospital, but less burden on family and friends than dying at home.
I have much back-reading to do - and am looking forward to it. Superb Blog! Thank you.

Your diagnosis has caused me to be less in denial about my own death, whenever it comes (I'm 65). This is a good thing. I'm taking every day of life less for granted, no matter what happens in it. I've wondered whether death will come without warning or if I'll have a few weeks or months advance notice. Seeing your process makes me hope that I'll have some time to do what you're doing: reflect, make arrangements, see loved ones. Thank you as always for sharing your actual experience and your wisdom, Ronni.