David and I enjoy PBS Frontline programs, especially when the topic (and/or the delivery of it) remains non-political. One such fine program was called, “Being Mortal,” which is based on a book by the same title by Atul Gawande, M.D. It originally aired on February 10, 2015. If you have not yet watched it, this 55-minute program is highly recommended for you. Have a tissue box nearby.
It was such an excellent program that it made me want to read the original book. To see how others rated it, I went to Amazon. It had over 7,000 reviews and 5 stars. Only books of extraordinary content and relevance to humanity can attain such highest-possible rating with so many reviews. The audio version of it was available in OverDrive through our local library system. We finished listening to it just before I was ready to write this blog.
What makes Dr. Gawande’s book so powerful is the fact that (1) he is trained to be in the business of “saving” lives, following in both of his parents’ footsteps as medical doctors, (2) he describes with such sincerity the emotional discomfort he felt when he had to tell the “bad” news to his terminal patients, and (3) through his beloved father’s terminal illness, he has finally come to accept the fact that aging and dying are a part of life and that no amount of medical care can help avoid it.
In the book, Dr. Gawande also points out how medical expenses typically skyrocket for toward-the-end-of-life treatments. And, when faced with the choice, for the most part, terminal patients prefer a quality end-of-life experience rather than additional medical treatments, which often end up causing side effects, pain, and additional suffering.
End-of-life conversations with your loved ones are what most people prefer not to have to face. When a situation forces the issue to be addressed at the last minute, however, chances are that it causes additional stress on the surviving loved ones.
Years ago, when we were getting our trusts drawn up with the help of an estate attorney, David and I were “forced” to have this end-of-life conversation. While it was unpleasant to have to think about it at the time, in retrospect, I’m grateful that we did gain an understanding about it from each other – so that, in the event a situation arises where one of us needs to make an end-of-life decision for the other, it has already been addressed by the individual whose fate may need to be determined by the other, or someone else for that matter.
For David and me, once the trusts were put in place, having the end-of-life conversation has become quite natural – well, at least for me. And we do talk about end-of-life priorities, fears, what we’re willing to sacrifice and what we are not willing to sacrifice. Sometimes I wonder why I am more willing to talk about it than David. Here is my assessment:
- First, I come from Japan, one of the oldest countries in the world – with a single lineage of monarchy. Culturally, Japanese people recognize that death is a normal part of the cycle of life. For instance, one of the most obvious life-cycle examples can be seen with the changes in seasons. Every spring, I’m in awe of the beautiful perennials coming back to life. After gorgeous summer colors, followed by stunning fall colors, leaves fall off tree branches; and the cycle renews every season. Death comes only to those that come to life, but the cycle of life continues.
- Second, when we were engaged, I saw, first hand, David’s severe reaction to peanuts. Imagine, if you would, you met the love of your life, you are engaged to be married to him, and he suddenly becomes deathly ill. The doctor informs you that some people indeed die from food allergies. Although I was very young, possible death of my beloved became no longer just a theory. Perhaps it was a sign from above, letting me know how important he was for me, and that I needed to take good care of him.
- Third, both David and I had a near-death experience during a serious car accident in 2004. The only thing I clearly remember was that, out of the blue, I thought to myself, “I had a wonderful life.”
I doubt that knowing your loved one’s end-of-life priorities makes facing his/her death any easier but, at least, both David and I know what the other wants when the time does come. Knowing that our intentions were clearly spelled out in our respective trusts – while our minds were lucid – makes us feel at ease. For those who do confront the issue in advance, as David and I did, the conversation becomes easier with time. In fact, before concluding this blog, he and I talked about it once again.
Conclusion: The sooner we can resume our world travels – as we have always enjoyed together – the better!
