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- Herausgeber: Hammersmith Health Books
- Kategorie: Fachliteratur
- Sprache: Englisch
- Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2021
What do we want for ourselves and our loved ones, 'When the Time Comes'? Jointly written, collected and curated by a doctor and nurse working in end-of-life care, this collection of personal experiences (of families and healthcare professionals) throws light on social, cultural and individual influences on what is expected but not necessarily wanted and when we need to start asking ourselves and our loved ones – and our patients – about their preferences. In particular, the issue of futile over-treatment getting in the way of peaceful opportunities to be with friends and family and say good-bye arises again and again. Far more universal and pressing than 'the right to die' is the right to have a non-medicalised and not over-extended, good quality end-of-life.
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This wonderful collection of short patients’ stories weaves a powerful narrative of life and love and loss. However, this is not only a ‘patient narrative’ but a reminder that we are all travelling the same road and will all meet the same fate in the end. It follows, therefore, that death and dying should naturally form part of public discourse, of family conversation. So-called ‘advance care planning’, a concept often misnamed ‘advanced’ care planning, is not in fact advanced or complex after all. This book illustrates it in its simplicity. We only really need to say what we want, what we don’t want and who will speak for us. Importantly, the healthcare professionals we meet along the way should be adequately equipped to sit comfortably with us in conversation about death and dying. This book is a roadmap for us all.
Aoife Lowney, Consultant in Palliative Medicine, John Radcliffe Hospital and Sobell House Palliative Care Service, Oxford, UK
This book and the short stories it contains should be of interest to those who will die (spoiler alert: that’s all of us) and for those of us who look after the dying. These stories are a window into people’s lives at their most vulnerable: when they are dying. Some of these people know what is happening, but many do not – until it is too late to talk about it. Like almost all of us, they take with them on this final journey the people who love them, who travel along as far as they can, to the point of departure. Sadly, time for meaningful conversations is one thing that has been built out of the modern medical world. This book is about when such communication has not happened – or when occasionally it has. So read these stories and understand that we can do this better.
Sally Greenaway, Palliative Care Physician, Westmead Hospital, NSW, Sydney, Australia
The topic of death and dying is not something that we talk about in our culture. In the pages that follow individuals are honoured as their stories unfold. We learn about building compassion in our community, and relationships with those close to us. Death is commonplace, and how we plan and spend our time preparing for it will guide the final episode of our life. This book helps us to transform our relationship to ageing, mortality, dying and death – whether expected or unexpected – so that we may rekindle the way we live and help to break down the mystery. Through reading the stories you will understand ways in which you can improve quality of life and better prepare for death. Take time to grieve and talk with counsellors and support organisations that can help.
Joan Carlini, Chair, Gold Coast Hospital and Health Service Consumer Advisory Group, Queensland, Australia
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All royalties from the sale of this book support research to improve end of life for older people.
Table of contents
About the authors
Dr Magnolia Cardona is a former GP, public health practitioner and current associate professor of health services research. She is a passionate advocate for the rights of older people dying of natural causes to not be over-treated with low-value care and instead have a dignifying end of life through aligning treatments with patients’ values and planning in advance. She arranged her own first advance care directive before the birth of her child by elective caesarean, as she envisaged the possibility of things going wrong and had the urgency for planning what clinicians and her family should do if she couldn’t decide. She now conducts research with patients, families and clinicians on ways to improve the end-of-life experience for all.
Nurse Ebony Lewis is experienced in emergency medicine and geriatrics, a skills combination that has made her highly aware of the needs of older people to be treated compassionately at a place of their choice, including their own home rather than in the emergency department environment or the intensive care unit. She loves talking to older patients, visiting them at home for their health assessments and helping them express their values and preferences before they become critically ill. She was awarded an international prize for her research into advance care documentation and is now undertaking her PhD studies on frailty.
The contributors
The contributors are sons, daughters, spouses, grandchildren, informal caregivers, trainees and health professionals caring for the people in these stories. They have given us their time and poured their hearts into these pages, either directly or indirectly through the editors. We hope you appreciate the wholehearted effort they put into making readers aware of what to consider doing or not doing when the time comes for you or your loved ones.
Acknowledgments
Our gratitude goes to all the contributing patients, families and clinicians for their willingness to give their time to share their very personal stories and for teaching us so many life lessons. This book would not have been possible without their perspectives. Our appreciation also goes to the Indigenous artist Anne Dillon whose painting inspired the book cover representing what this grieving journey is about: darkness followed by the colours of hope.
Special thanks go to our families for their patience, encouragement and understanding of our mission to change practice by normalising end-of-life conversations.
Foreword
Magnolia asked me to write this foreword a few days before I was about to have surgery. As a retired physician my perspective is rapidly changing from that of a provider to that of a consumer of healthcare. During the last few years, I have witnessed the deaths of some close relatives; this has caused me to reflect on the good and the bad aspects of modern healthcare. Over my 50-year career in medicine, the biggest change has been in the number of health professionals a patient is likely to encounter during an illness and the number of things that can be done to them. When I was a child, the family doctor was always available, affable and trusted. Few doubted his opinion, and if he decided you needed to see a specialist or to go to hospital, it was accepted that the situation was serious and the outcome uncertain. The ‘truth’ was only implied by knowing glances and muffled murmurs behind closed doors, and everyone agreed that nothing more could be done, and prayed for a ‘happy release’. Nowadays everything has changed – there is always more that can be done, everyone knows someone who has tried this or that, and there is simply no limit to the number of opinions, investigations and possible treatments that might be considered. What has not changed during my career is the ability of physicians and patients wisely to control what, of all the ever-increasing options, should be done.
All of us know we are going to die, but most of us do not like to think about it too much. We may have imagined how we would xiprefer to die but might have considered there was little point in such morbid musing. Nowadays, however, everyone should think about what they want, and how they might control what happens when the time comes. No one should underestimate the ability of modern medicine to prolong life and suffering at enormous expense.
Fifty years ago, obtaining medical care was like asking someone for a lift in their car. You had some idea of the speed the car could travel, its level of safety and comfort, and getting the car to stop or go somewhere else was easy. Medical care today is more like flying on a commercial airliner. It is statistically far safer than a car ride, often not that comfortable, but once the flight has started, changing the destination is difficult and getting off is impossible. Even as a doctor I found it difficult to curb my colleagues’ well-intentioned enthusiasm to do everything possible for my relatives, even though I knew most of their interventions were futile. Firstly, I had to be careful not to offend them or be thought of as a ‘difficult relative’ or a ‘know-it-all’ doctor, and I did appreciate how kind they all were and how hard they were trying to help. Secondly, I did not want them to think that I wanted active euthanasia, and thirdly, I also did not want to upset the rest of my family. The fact is that modern medical care, and intensive care in particular, is a complex system with many players set up to do everything to keep the patient alive as long as possible: once the system is set in motion it is very difficult for a single individual to stop it.
We are all different and have different desires. What I wanted as a young man was not what I want now. At the end of our lives we might all be surprised at what we really value. I have seen distraught children fly their dying mother to a far-flung clinic for another round of chemotherapy when all she wanted was to visit for the last time the small primary school she attended as a child. xiiWho knows why she wanted this, but she did. Her children did not understand, so she travelled with them to die abroad and never saw her old school again.
Each chapter of this book describes how different people have encountered death and dying. It is an important book to read: it provides no answers but may make you wiser.
Dr John Kellet Nenagh, Ireland, September 2020
Introduction
Magnolia Cardona
Technological advances have increasingly benefited patients but have also led us to hold higher expectations of immortality through medical ‘miracles’. However, sometimes demanding these health services when it is too late for them to be of benefit perpetuates the delivery of non-beneficial treatments and low-value care that is potentially harmful to individuals and the health system.
The concept of a ‘good death’ seems a contradiction in terms. However, we gain a clearer picture when we think of preventing or controlling pain; managing anxiety, breathlessness and frailty; avoiding unnecessary surgical procedures; discontinuing uncomfortable treatments; ceasing futile and potentially detrimental medications; and generally being in control of the quality of a life at the ‘tail-end’. It can be more satisfying if we can do it on our and our loved one’s own terms.
This book is a collection of true stories written by relatives of older people dying from chronic incurable illness and by experienced nurses who have been involved in the process. We have gathered these experiences to share them with the public and help raise awareness of the need to discuss end-of-life wishes in advance. While we acknowledge that the topic of death is taboo in some cultures, and that the grieving process can differ across countries and from individual to individual, we have learned from the suffering of many the importance of being open about our personal choices of how we die, be it the place of death or xivthe initiation or withdrawal of aggressive treatment when death approaches. We have learned that it is important to improve the experience of death from chronic incurable illness, or from plain old age.
Sometimes the authors of these stories have been involved in making decisions on behalf of loved ones at the time they were dying. In the process they have gone through the dilemma of not being certain of prior patient preferences, having unrealistic expectations of what technology can achieve, but ultimately needing to feel reassured that they are ‘doing the right thing’ with or without all the relevant information. The satisfaction of honouring patients’ wishes can help make difficult end-of-life decisions more bearable for healthcare providers, minimise regret among surviving families, and enable a healthier grieving process.
In this compilation of short stories we have honoured the details of each individual account but have changed the names to protect confidentiality. We hope the messages in each, some harrowing and some uplifting, will encourage you to think about your preferences for place of death and the level of intervention you would tolerate or be willing to forego. Perhaps these true stories from the end of life will motivate you to have a conversation with a loved one, or express your wishes (or theirs) in writing, with the help of a healthcare professional to prevent those unnecessarily heroic treatments that will not make a difference to your survival and could potentially impair the quality of your end of life. You don’t need to have a terminal illness to discuss your end-of-life care preferences. The stories here remind us that, despite our best efforts, we are not immortal yet, and that while we are still able we can be proactive in preparing for the final transition, to improve the experience for both the dying and the living left behind.
1
Grandma: preparing for death but living life to the full
Death is largely considered a taboo subject, reserved for solemn occasions, inviting fear, uncertainty and despair. But not for Grandma. Grandma has her own funeral planned and paid for (although she’s not sure that she’s got the perfect photo of herself for the occasion, so when her grand-children visit she continually asks them to take funeral-appropriate headshots as she poses, smiling sombrely). She has all her wishes written down, her bucket list (almost) ticked off, and a clear idea of what she would and would not want in the case that she were incapacitated and no longer able to communicate her wishes.
Grandma has had this all organised since her early 70s. But don’t get me wrong, she is not a morbid person. She is not all doom and gloom to be around. In fact, at age 83, she goes to two yoga classes a week, a dance class, a stretch class, and plays bridge with friends two or three days a week. She goes on outings to the theatre with a local seniors group, is a member of a local walking group (and she walks fast!), plus every second weekend she seems to be going to some kind of birthday party, ranging from ‘young’ friends’ 70ths, to her older friends 90th and 100th birthdays. She’s active on email and Skype as she doesn’t want to miss any crucial life developments within her family or social circle. 2
