By Larry F. Waldman, Ph.D., ABPP Clinical, Forensic Psychologist
As you approach the age of our nation’s life expectancy, it’s natural to begin to consider end of life issues. How you might “pass,” is one of those considerations.
My Zeide, as we called him, my paternal grandfather, was a strong, active man till the day he died. I remember as a kid helping him with yardwork or home repairs while he wore a white shirt and tie, even when it was 90 degrees with 90% humidity in a hot, muggy Southern Wisconsin summer day. He never stepped out of the house without a shirt and tie. He spoke at least five different languages. He taught me to use hand woodworking tools. I thought it odd that he spoke so often about having healthy “BM’s.”
Ironically, when he was 76 he was having his “morning consititutional” on the “throne,” reading, of course, a foreign newspaper, and suffered a catastrophic stroke, falling to the bathroom floor, blocking the door. My grandmother, “Bobe” to us, heard him fall but couldn’t open the door. She called the rescue squad. They said it was likely Zeide died almost immediately.
My Bobe and Zeide were married over 50 years. They did everything together. I remember them having “discussions” in which they would each switch languages to better make their point. Bobe was devastated by his sudden death. It was completely unexpected. My wife and I married about six months later and pictures of my Bobe at the wedding showed she was unable to smile then, though I was her first and only grandson.
My dad was an active, nice, caring, smart guy who worked as a CPA—certified public accountant. He was diagnosed with diabetes in his early 30’s; I think he probably had the disease as a juvenile but it wasn’t identified until later. With my mother’s help, he ate a healthy diet and stayed active. Nevertheless, in his late 50’s the diabetes began to cause blood circulation problems and neuropathy. He began to experience problems with his feet, toes, fingers, and eyes. By his early 60’s he began to show signs of dementia. In his mid-60’s he was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease. I questioned that diagnosis because if the blood wasn’t getting to the toes, fingers, or eyes, it probably wasn’t reaching the brain. The true diagnosis, though, was unimportant.
By 70 he was unable to help himself and my mom provided around-the clock care. Finally, my sisters and I convinced mom to place him in a facility. Dad then resided in an Alzheimer’s unit for nearly two years. Mom came and fed him lunch and dinner every day until he passed. When he died he was unable to walk, could barely speak, had to be strapped into bed because he would attempt to consume inedible things, didn’t recognize mom or his kids, and ultimately lost the ability to swallow.
So, my grandfather died suddenly and my father passed slowly. Which was best? It depends on your perspective:
I can only assume, of course, that my grandfather was OK with “going” quickly. I think I would prefer to “exit” that way. However, family members are shocked in this situation and have no time to process your sudden departure.
On the other hand, if your demise is gradual, family members have the opportunity to process and accept your imminent passing—and may even come to welcome it (as in my father’s case). Again, I must assume that a lingering death, in many cases, is not easy for the person involved. A situation where one has a terminal condition but can stay vital till the end and communicate with their family, allowing them to accept the inevitable, would probably be the ideal.
While we, for the most part, aren’t in control of how we “leave” the world, we should take the time to discuss this dichotomy with our partner and loved ones.
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