Death is a well maintained secret

Another chirpy phone message from hospice people, one with the news that mom is back on Namenda, an Alzheimer's medication. Apparently they have determined that this reduces her distress, and that another medication - Ativan - is "doing her no good at all". I wonder how they do this - how they can tell that one medication does work and another doesn't. I think the aides there see the behaviors up close, and report when she is difficult. But I marvel that they put it all together.

Mom was deep asleep when I got there today, later than usual because I was leading a board retreat for a non-profit until almost 2 pm. I talked with the hospice lady who had just put her to bed, comparing mom's progress with her father's dementia which is just beginning. She has worked for hospice for 11 years. How amazing to think that she lives every work day present to dying and death.

But then, how amazing I have been sheltered from it my whole life. I remember an uncle on his deathbed in our home when I was very little, and I knew it was a dire situation but do not recall a long process or any great grieving. Perhaps we shelter children from that. I also remember visiting a dying grandfather once in the hospital when I was 13 - he cried when he realized who I was. Both my grandmothers died after I had moved away, and I was not involved in their dying process.

This is such an education. I wonder how many people are as caught off guard by dealing with dying as I was. It seems odd that it is not a more acceptable subject, and that we don't educate one another. When my father was dying, I was with him when he was at home and then later in the hospital. I remember those interactions to this day, very special. But he and my mother never talked about the fact that he was dying. I had thought he would be interested in a conversation about it (he was my first transformational coach and trainer), so I sent him a copy of "The Tibetan Book of the Dead" (which taught me much, but only in theory and not, alas, the reality of the smells and inconveniences around dying). He never mentioned having received it, and I didn't ask.