MSI Press Blog

  Anger, in its narrow form, is one of the stages of dying that Elizabeth Kubler-Ross identified quite some time ago in her book, On Death and Dying . People go through various stages, according to Kubler Ross (though her stages have been disputed ), the second of which in her model is anger (though she herself later stated that the stages are not necessarily sequential).  While anger of the patient was the focus of Kubler Ross and of most books and posts about cancer (and other dying) patients, my recent experience is that anger comes also within and from the caregiver, who had not planned on this life-changing (and time-changing) activity and likely is not prepared for it, whether it be lack of skills, lack of knowledge, lack of medical communication or options, lack of time to accomplish all that is necessary and thereby creating considerable stress, or lack of temperament/patience, causing anger to well up as a reaction to inability to control the environment and limited to no time

  When my beloved Murjan was dying from cancer , I was desperate for information, but my husband was dying from cancer at the same time, which gave me very little time for seeking out answers. Murjan was almost 19 years old and had been on chemotherapy for three years. His vet did not know how to help him further, but she apparently did not want to admit that -- and subconsciously I did not want to admit that she did not know what to do and had essentially given up on him. I was unable to get timely appointments, or any appointments at all, even in the emergency room. We do not have any vets in town. I have to travel no matter what. Murjan's vet was located an hour north of us. To get help, I contacted other vets. A vet to the west of us recommended hydration, and so we stated hydrating Murjan every other day. His vet to the north allowed as to how that might help. But Murjan kept losing weight. He was down to 5 pounds (from 16 pounds) when he died.  Finally, a vet to the south of

  When a dying loved one does not want to talk about the ramifications of dying is an issue I have been wanting to address for a time. it was a very difficult one for us. More than head-in-sand, it was a deliberate refusal by Carl, when he was dying, to become involved with completing really important paperwork, like advanced directives, will/family trust, power of attorney. It was as if he could avoid death by not talking about it. (Of course, to be fair in representing the situation, he found out from a fall, with no warning, that he had probably only days and weeks left to live. The local hospital said days; Stanford was more positive about taking steps to turn days into something longer.) Cancer Diary will address this topic again (and likely again). For today, though, I want to share Diane Hullet's Best Life, Best Death podcast interview with Barbara Karnes on these sticky end of life questions, from the point of view of hospice worker and family member. See related MSI Pres

Carl frequently complained of being cold during the last two months of living/dying with cancer. Even with the heat at, for me an uncomfortable, 72 degrees (when we typically maintain it at a comfortable 66 degrees). Even when wearing a sweater or even something heavier and smothered in blankets. He was always complaining about being cold, and only after he died did I find out why -- and that he really was very cold because body temperature drops when someone is dying. We were constantly struggling over how to compromise on temperature. My son and I were extremely uncomfortable with the amount of heat Carl would set the thermostat for, as well as having concerns with the cost of the amount of gas needed to keep the house so hot (dying can create immense financial stress -- a topic Cancer Diary will address in the future).  In general, cold registered for me, having grown up in Maine and having spent a few winters in Siberia, pictured above, on a very different scale from the perceptio

  We only get to die once (well, usually, NDEs aside). How we die can be just as important as how we live. I wish that thought had been top of the mind when Carl was dying; we might have done things differently. It is not, though, that we did not have examples. We did, actually. Dottie, a dear friend from Massachusetts, had been my secretary when I was in the Army and then opened her house to me and my infant son when, during my later reserve days, the barracks would not allow him in because of his severe breathing issues from which he was in danger of dying nearly every day. (He survived, grew up, and, still with some breathing issues, is living a robust life.) Through all the intervening years, even after I moved to California, Dottie stayed in touch. Then, she got terminal brain cancer. After some initial surgery (and more planned, which, she feared, she would not survive), she decided that she wanted to spend the time she had left visiting all her family, which had spread out acros

  Today's guest post from Dr. Dennis Ortman continues the theme he started last week on dying and living. Journey through Death “Unless the grain of wheat dies, it remains just a grain of wheat.” --Jesus of Nazareth   Pope Benedict XVI, the retired pope, recently died. One of his caregivers reported his last dying words: “Lord, I love you.” He was echoing the last words of Jesus on the cross: “Father, into your hands I commend my spirit.” Mahatma Gandhi, called the “Great Soul,” was assassinated. His last words were a cry to God: “Ram, Ram, Ram!” The last thought of these men before they died was not of all the loved ones they left behind, but of God, who was their constant companion throughout their lives. They faced death with a tranquil spirit. Socrates, the epitome of wisdom, faced his death with a similar calmness. He was condemned to die on a charge of corrupting the youth of Athens. His friends tried to convince him not to take that fatal drink. Socrates responded