It IS a slap-in-the-face to ALL who have to die alone, or live in total isolation if they get this disease. It is a slap in the face to all their loved ones too.
My guess is that you have not had close contact with the extremely sad and lonely elders that are isolated in the final days of their lives, because they can be with NOBODY.
This is what one of my good friends wrote, when her mother died from covid....
Moments of pain and indecision.
It should not have been a surprise to us that my mother would not survive coronavirus. But the reality of that does not hit home until it is time to make decisions about medical care that you know will ultimately lead to your mother’s death. We went from "no code and no intubation” to “comfort care”, then stopping the high flow oxygen and downgrading to just oxygen by nasal cannula. Next, a morphine drip to make her less fearful and pain free while she is passing. These are all decisions.
Every day a new decision. It is exhausting. And then you ask yourself, who am I to decide when my mother should die? How much time should I have given the medical team to get her better. Of course, they think it is hopeless. After all, she will be 89 in 2 months. But they don’t know how tough she is. What a fighter she is. After all she lived through WWII when the allies carpet bombed her home in Frankfurt ,Germany, and through many hardships as an adult. So maybe she can last long enough for her immune system to kill this virus.
But then she is on the phone, crying, “they tied down my arms, my throat is so dry, it’s impossible to rest with the oxygen in my nose forcing air in.” Then she calls and says there are constant blood tests and restarting IV’s that have infiltrated and she has no veins. I am too weak to endure it. I call the doctors and ask what are her chances of beating this virus and they say, as expected, none. So I ask why are we torturing this poor soul and they say, it is my choice. What would I have them do. First, I say, untie her hands! Then she will pull out her IVs and maybe her oxygen tubing, they say. I say, if she will die anyway, then why does that matter? So the tubes came out and the ties were taken off. She is better. Things are calmer and she is resting.
The next day the high flow oxygen mask was removed. We thought that would be the end. The family members had steeled themselves for the end. But she rallied once again. Since she seemed stable, there was a plan put into place to move her to a nearby hospice facility. She would be more comfortable there and get more personalized care. It sounded like a good plan. We were not allowed to see her anywhere, so it was all about decisions that were best for her.
Finally after a huge stack of paperwork was filled out, she was transferred by ambulance to the hospice facility. Her morphine drip kept her drowsy and comfortable. About 3 hours after her transfer, she stopped breathing and peacefully slipped away. I didn’t get the message until the next morning.
I was suddenly dazed and numb. I knew it was going to be soon, but still a shock. My mother was gone. My thorny, needy, and sometimes manipulative mother was gone. But still she was my mother. I had cared for her for years. I paid her bills, cleaned her house, bought her clothes, took her to appointments and found ways to entertain her. There were happy times, but less and less over the last few years. She blamed me for putting her into a nursing home. This was more or less true, but I never abandoned her. It was a decision forced on me. It was apparent to everyone, that she could not live alone.
She died on August 29, 2020 at 9:30pm. I will miss her and I will always worry that I did not give her a fighting chance against the virus, but instead took the cowards way out for her and me, by making the decision to withdraw care.
Those are the hard choices which we must make during this era of the coronavirus.
