At some point, we start thinking more about dying. Perhaps
it’s when you get a serious diagnosis or your last parent dies leaving you next
on the conveyor belt. In my case, as a lifelong hypochondriac and
catastrophizer, I’ve been thinking about it since I was a child, a half-century
ago.
What might dying well look like?
I suppose it starts with living well. If we are aware of our
mortality and that time is our most valuable possession, we’re more conscious
how we spend each moment: Should we work more, less, or on something else? Spend
more or less time with certain people?
It’s probably time to make a will or, to avoid probate, a
trust. Even if you’re poor, to whom or what organization do you want to leave
your assets? Yes, you might want to leave it all to your family but it may be
worth asking yourself if a charity or another individual might make better use
of the money? Would leaving a substantial sum to a family member encourage
sloth or profligacy?
Your will/trust should include an advance medical directive.
For example, when you have an irreversible disease and are in bad pain,
do you want extraordinary measures to keep you alive, for example, when you no
longer can swallow, intubating you so you can be fed with a feeding tube? Or
would you prefer hospice, which provides comforting drugs and other palliatives
to make the end of life more peaceful?
Your will should also name a person to make medical and
financial decisions in case of your incapacity or death. Think hard about whom
you’d most trust. It may or may not be your closest relative.
It may feel good for you to include in your will a letter to your family and friends,
perhaps reminiscences, lessons learned, and suggestions for them.
Although we may know some people who are vigorous and sharp
well into old age, most people do decline. Part of
dying well is to forgive yourself when, for example, you forget
things you would have remembered when younger. Easier said than
done. No easier but also helpful is accepting that senescence is part of the
natural order of things.
As we get older, most of us become more set in our ways,
resistant to change. But is there something new you want to do? Many people
want to travel, but change can occur at home: a new hobby,
volunteer activity, job, business, or attitude. Changing the latter may be
tougher even than accepting aging.
Some people choose to tell others about their health
problems. Others keep them as private as possible. It may be an act of
generosity to not burden people with your worries unless they can help and you
want their help.
Then there’s the decision of when to fight the good fight
and when to accept that the chances of winning are too small. As the song, The
Gambler, says, “You gotta know when to hold ‘em, know when to fold ‘em.” For example, should you keep fighting for your
political beliefs? To rapproche with a relative? To stay alive?
We still don’t allow people to decide when to die. That
strikes me as a terribly unfair intrusion of government into one of our most personal
decisions. Fortunately, some physicians will give a terminally ill person a
final cocktail of tranquilizers and sleeping pills. And if you can't access such
a physician, a right-to-die group called the Final Exit Network makes available comfortable ways to go.
This article hasn't been fun to write but I hope it might
help you or someone you love to die well.
