I completely agree and admire how you can express your feelings. Your blog is very important to me (I am 72) both on your feelings about aging and illness and also on your political views. It is a great comfort to know that people like you and your community of bloggers do all your best against Trump. In France we are terribly worried about what that horrible man will say or do.... Ronni, I wish you all the best "bon courage" as we say in Paris
CHANTAL

I was thinking the comment was actually not to "lead" with that, not to not tell anyone about it.

Breathtaking honesty, truth, courage, generosity, wit, brilliance. To think, write, and be anything or anyone else would not be Ronni Bennett whom I have come to "know" since 2003 when I discovered you and TGB. And, yes, staying in the conversation is absolutely sane and wonderful. XO

Thanks for being an avenue of connection between humans experiencing life an death.

When I was growing up, my maternal grandmother was the only person I knew who was cared for and died at home. Even the majority of those who had been cared for in someone's home until very close to the end, often were moved to a hospital before dying. That was probably because, as far as I know, hospice care in the U.S. was virtually nonexistent in those days. Without hospice support, I can only imagine that in-home care would often have been very difficult, although I have to say that I did it for nearly two years, caring for my mother-in-law, who lived with extreme dementia. We were fortunate, though, to have been able to arrange for me to move in with her in her house, and have a few hours each week of respite care. She was fortunate to have been physically in very good condition up until the last few months of her life. Because she was so physically strong until those last months, she was found to not qualify for hospice care until what turned out to be the very end. The day after she was assessed as qualifying, two hospice benefits arrived-- a very comfortable bed which was set up in her living room, and a hospice worker who came to help give her a sponge bath on that bed. No medication, no other supplies or equipment. We helped her into that comfy bed, covered her with her mother's quilts, in front of the large picture window and she closed her eyes and never opened them again. It had been a long journey to that day, but she seemed comfortable and content in those last moments and I wish everyone's death could be so peaceful.

I think at least part of the reason people died at home a century ago was there was so little treatment available. My grandfather was admitted to the hospital - this in 1964 - with a heart condition, and they couldn't do anything for him (he was about 83) so they sent him home. Same with my grandmother in the '50s (she was in her 70s) - she had a stroke and they couldn't do anything, so they sent her home, where she died about a year later. Nowadays, both would probably have been treated, and, had complications arisen or treatments failed, they would have died in a hospital.
I've always been grateful that my parents saw fit to take us to the wakes they attended when we were growing up. We must have been very young - when I think of them, I think mostly of the pants of the grown-up men as seen at a toddler's eye-level! But the net effect was that I not only knew people died; I'd seen them dead, and somehow that has been helpful to me ever since. I think it normalized it - made it, as you say, a part of life.

Ronni,
Your insight into aging and the information has been very helpful to me since I found your blog about a year ago. I agree with and appreciate your sharing your experiences of dying, too. My problem is my very healthy 90 year old mother. She is the cliché of the helpless female. She does not handle illness, death or, let's face it, reality well. Her sense of denial is enormous while her fear of everything is insane. My father raised us and charged us with protecting her at all costs. My sister (77) is dying, albeit slowly. It will probably be three to five years. We have not told Mother. It feels wrong for all the right reasons. It is not mine to tell, but I am disturbed. It seems we are betting on Mother to go first, or to be mentally unaware when it happens. There is probably no correct solution, but reading your blog comforts me. At least I know that I am not the only one who prefers and appreciates unvarnished truth. Thank you, pennie

Your honesty and acceptance of your fate is inspiring. If more people were open to sharing this time of living, it would be so much more easy for people who land in your place with time to share with loved ones. Then friends and family would also be more comfortable with sharing your journey instead of feeling uncomfortable with how to talk to you so as not to upset you or themselves.

Much love for you, Ronni.

Your short Monday's Post contains perhaps the most important lesson I ever learned by reading. Thank you Ronni for precision, curiosity, mindfulness, sobriety.
And thank you for your eloquence.
English is a foreign language for me. Through reading your articles, I even improve my (Swiss-)German.

My late husband died at home. The day before that, he was intently showing me how to use the TV remote (which I never got my hands on much, not being a TV watcher) and making sure that I knew where important papers were. It was poignant and endearing. He didn't want most people to know that he was dying, although those of us close to him did. He hated the fuss and sympathy. His own family refused to believe he was terminal and were angry at him for "giving up" on treatment which meant I had to keep him protected from their verbal attacks. Now they don't talk to me--perfectly fine since I want nothing to do with them anyway.

I appreciate your honesty, Ronni. It is so important for everyone to know the status of our friends. I still wonder about the thinking of a friend of about 20 years who died without letting me know she was so ill, and I wish she had been able to tell me rather than pretending that she was doing all right.

We were a small group of women friends who met for lunch monthly and I knew Christina was ill as she would mention having spent a few days in the hospital with "uncontrolled bleeding". But she would go to the ER and never had a report on her status.

She did not look well the last time we met and had started wearing a wig due to hair loss. When I phoned her to tell her where we were meeting, her daughter told me that she had died a week prior. I felt cheated in not being able to say good bye. Three of us friends attended her funeral but I still felt incomplete and disappointed about her choice of secrecy.

Since we all met initially in order to form a study group for licensure as psychotherapists
it was especially puzzling that this was the way she chose to deal with her end of life issues. It's hard to believe she was in denial but, I suppose, it's a possibility.

In my life, dying seems mostly to have occurred when I was not around. My father died when I was five, he was in the hospital and children were not allowed to be in the room with him. In fact, my sister and I were not even taken to the funeral. Something about "protecting" us, I suspect.

My mother also died in a hospital. At the hospital where my sister and I were born. My sister lived far away; my husband and I were the ones who ended up living with my mother when she could not manage on her own, and the apartment where we otherwise lived was right across the street from that hospital. Nevertheless, we were not present when she died.

And our beloved son Timothy died far away, in Chile, where he was living. We did not know until we were notified. He was 38, a brilliant artist, happiest when he could travel and do his art and perhaps ignore a bit too much that he was afflicted with COPD. He was just 38.

Other relatives died mostly at a great distance from me - many in Germany, including my grandmother in Hamburg, in Germany, whom I got to know and adore during a Fulbright there. The family was spread out all over the place, in the US, in Germany, in Denmark; I never knew when many of them died, they were just gone, and I was never notified.

So -- your post this morning was particularly important to me. I am, when you think about it, unrelated to, through circumstance [or fate?]disconnected from, death and dying. Obviously, that is not true: we all live with death and dying, the inevitability of it. But your clear and absolutely pertinent and perceptive comments today open windows for me. In a way, in your wonderful words, you are educating me. Opening up doors. Giving me knowledge that I appreciate and will remember.

So, yes, more power to you. Talk and write about dying as much as you wish. You are giving all of us a wonderful gift. And I am extremely grateful to you.

Ruth-Ellen

Beautiful. You are such an inspiration. Thank you for writing and giving us such a gift. Bless you on your journey.

ronni~ You are a true leader. You lead by example.You do not shy away from inconvenient truths. Instead, you provide such a wonderful gift, especially to us who share the TGB cohort at this time. Thank you for your service. xox

I could not agree more!

I too grew up in a small (very small) town and elderly, or disabled relatives were in nearly every home. It was just part of life where I grew up. I spent most of my young years living in my grandfather's home so we could care for grandad and a crippled and mentally disabled uncle, his son and my mother's brother. I went from there to college and then on to other, larger cities to work and live, but I was still expected to do the same for my parents. When my mother died of cancer, as an only child I was duty bound to move back to West Virginia to take care of my father. Which I did without thought or compunction ... for five more years until he too died. Now, at age 81, one of my sons and his wife have moved in with me to help me, and my other son is doing his share to help out. It's a tradition our family has not forgotten.

There is a great and quite profound old saying,
"The only things sure and certain in this world are death and taxes."

Nothing much to add. I'm not a fuss and feathers person, and I rather agree with Nora Ephron's approach to her demise several years ago. How to die (unless it is sudden and/or unexpected) is probably the most personal decision we ever make. Of course, others must be considered, but each individual has the right to "do it my way".

I'm not religious --like Ron Reagan Jr., I'm not afraid of burning in hell--and I don't think I fear death or being dead. Although I'm probably optimistic or unrealistic, I certainly hope to have significant input to the process (the when, where and how of it).

This may be off topic, but is a related one.

Today's NYT has an article titled "How to Grieve for Online Friends You Had Never Met in Person" and I had to read it. So many of us who are in your ship of friends who are reading your posts as you proceed through this difficult process have expressed grief at hearing your terrible news. We all know the real grief is to come later.

The gist of the article written by a woman who has experienced this grief is that it is as real as that for a person we knew in person. I think we can all agree with that. Like many of you, I have lost dear Online friends and the grief I experienced is as real (and often more so) than the grief I had for people I have known for a lifetime.

Nobody who has not gone through the knowledge that their death is imminent and irrevocable can possibly know the emotions that you are experiencing, Ronni. I am sure that it is as different for each person experiencing it as we individuals are different.

All I can say is that I hope I have the wisdom to face it with the courage you are showing if I am given the advanced warning that you have. You are a remarkable lady and we all admire you so very much.

I’m so glad you are doing this, Ronni. It is so helpful.

And in America, we do seem afraid of talking about death. I find it ironic that the US, which is far more religious than many other countries and believes so wholeheartedly in an afterlife that is bliss, fears death so and avoids talking about it except for the necessary arrangements.

I love the more Eastern philosophy that connects all of us together along with the earth and the animal world. It seems so much more serene.

It is sad that we all grow old and die, but when I compare it to the millions who died young in WWI and WWII, it rather puts it into perspective for me. At 71, I’m more than satisfied with the length of time I’ve had.

Ronni I just became aware of you and your blogs this weekend...I have so much to say and to share with you....but for now I'm grateful of your existence. As I read about aging....something I've wanted to find a support group for, I read with interest...I then learned you had cancer....and then I gasped as I read you have pancreatic cancer....as do I......then you speaking of your fearful days and your good days and the real but humorous dilemma as to what nooks you should read....whipple surgery, recovering, chemo, three month check ups and scans...we are walking the same path....our experience with pancreatic cancer, we think so similarly about life...the questions the fears and the humor. Finding you was an answer to my prayers and somehow I don't think it was an accident. I will be visiting with you more and would welcome you if you would want to contact me.for now I just wanted to introduce myself to you...we even kind of look alike.
I am 7o and in second year of being cancer free but I'm still not sure what that really means...I leave the reality that it can and probably return. Glad we have met....Glenda kimsey.......email is [email protected]

Thank you Ronni for agreeing to share this journey with us. You are a trail-blazer. It is time death and the approach of it was no longer a taboo subject.
Many years ago, as a journalist, I remember interviewing a hospice doctor and discussing this subject with her.
The doctor said something that has remained with me ever since:"Often those last few months turn out to be the happiest of a person's life."
At the time I was puzzled until she explained. It is a time of reconciliation , of celebration and sense of peace.

Ditto what so many others have said, i.e., Simone and Olga. I, too, am thankful I found your blog ten or so years ago. I have enjoyed your "friendship" immensely, and am all-the-more appreciating your insightful candor about life's end.

Dear Ronni,
I found this post particularly beautiful, probably because you have so accepted your dying. I have found that those who are accepting of their exit from this earth plane have a much richer experience of life until that time and a much easier exit because they are not fighting it.
I won't get into the politics of why as a society we have become so afraid and/or ignorant of dying. Suffice it to say that when the AMA took over in the 'early '60's as the main spokes-entity for the medical establishment, many things changed, some for the better and some, like the public's attitude towards death and dying, not so good. But your posts and these groups that are springing up, the cafe discussions, these are all great ways to start turning the tide back again to a more natural outlook.
So thanks for your part in turning the tide.
Warmest regards,

Ronni, I learned today my son has died, alone and in despair. It was no surprise but gut wrenching just the same. How I wish it could have been different. I don't know what else to say - I just needed to tell someone.

Nature has prepared us humans for almost every eventuality. Our bodies tell us when we need to eat, need water, and need sleep.
When necessary, our body supplies a shot of adrenaline which helps us perform extra-human fiets of strength. And don't forget all of the systems that come into play during sex.
Unfortunately, the one (and perhaps most important) thing we are not naturally prepared for is our own demise. Until we are close to the very end when the 5 stages of death kick in there is nothing to help us cope with the questioning, fear, and isolation we experience during the last weeks , months, or years of our lives.

Thank You Ronni. I appreciate your sharing. Words cannot adequately express what's going on here, nor the full magnitude and meaning of life and it's milestones and meaning. This is beyond profound.
Valuable insights are gained by us all. Again, Thank You.

@Pursuit,

Had no way to respond to you personally on your comment here, but your pain is hard to bear witness to. I have a daughter who is estranged from the family. One day, I will get that news. Oh, how I understand.

Love,
Liz

Several years ago I took a course on "Death and Dying" at Columbia University. We read essays, poems, short stories, saw movies. The professors would talk about what makes "a good death".
Ronni you are the best "course" anyone could take. This beautiful and generous sharing of what you are feeling and thinking and the equally heartfelt responsiveness of a community of strangers-no-more that have bonded together is astonishing. This is a good death.
Thank you Ronni for every blog post - all of them written with straightforward practical laser like advice and commentary. Yours is the only blog I've ever read. You are a friend that I will dearly miss.
Love,
Lynn

@Pursuit. Thank you for sharing the gut-wrenching news of your son's death that several readers in this comment thread have already responded to with love and support. Blessings from Tamar in Tel Aviv.

Hi Ronni, again I'm bowled over by the depth, strength and courage of your writing. As one writer to another, thank you for your talent and ability to articulate a human experience in general, and your life in particular, that needs to be spoken and celebrated. You are a special soul, enriching and bestowing your light to all. Safe journey, Melanie Lee

Pursuit, I'm sorry for the loss of your son and wish you the will and love of living to be your companions during the healing.