Is there a right way to accompany someone as they die? Is there a wrong way? Well – I’m pretty sure there are some ways that would most certainly be wrong, but I’m not really talking about those egregious type examples.
One question I still ask myself so often, is did I do enough for Sara? Was I the partner she needed me to be, as she navigated her cancer and her death? I took her to appointments, I helped her manager her medications (boy did that get stressful sometimes!), we came up with questions to ask the doctor (or debated what to ask or not ask), we talked about the things we would do when she got better – the cruise we wanted to take this year, we continued navigating life together despite being in the middle of this big medical disaster, we watched Bob’s Burgers and other shows that were comfortable and familiar, we played card games, ate meals together, I was her cheerleader and tried to be her rock…. but for all the conversation we had, and the time we spent together, there were so many things we DIDN’T talk about.
Believe it or not, we didn’t talk about what she wanted (or didn’t want) to happen to her if she died. We didn’t substantially talk about about the many fears I know she was struggling with, relating to death and what (if anything) comes after. We didn’t talk about what she wanted her death to look like, if we hit a point where we knew she was terminal.
I don’t know I was just naive, but up until she started losing normal awareness the last few days of her life, I really thought she had a chance at surviving. At first, she seemed to respond so well to treatment; why would we focus on the possibility of her death, if she was going to beat this thing? I look back and ask myself – at what point should I have known? Was I derelict in my duties as her person to not encourage us to have these conversations? Was I in denial? Could I have made her end of life better?
Maybe we did exactly what she needed. Not everyone wants to have those conversations or are ready for them. Or, maybe she had those conversations with other people and didn’t want to burden me with them. I really don’t know. No one ever said the word “terminal” to us – it wasn’t until the morning of November 1st, 2019 when she was in the ICU, when her oncologist made it clear there was nothing more we could do, and said he recommended hospice. She died the next day.
Part of me wishes I’d had the maturity and the thoughtfulness to consider whether we might need to have these conversations while she was still able to have them. I do wish I had spent even more time with her in her last few weeks. I wish she could’ve been at home where I could’ve taken care of her with our dogs and cat as companions. I wish I had stopped working earlier. I wish I had slept in the hospital with her more, even though the guest bed was horribly uncomfortable.
I just don’t know. I don’t know any of the answers. I know what they say about hindsight… I just hope I was enough, that I did enough.