Dear friends AND FAMILY,
Here is what I wrote after our last talk on Death
Reflecting on end-of-life issues
4/6/23
Martina
I think what matters most is believing that what is meant to happen will happen, and that I must trust my sons Sebastian and Andy to do what they think is best at the time. I have signed and delivered the 5 Wishes form to my doctor, saying not to prolong my life if there is not a reasonable hope for health and wellness, but simply dwindling down as end-organ damage becomes more permanent. I made Sebastian the chief decision-maker because I think he is less likely to jump to conclusions, and less likely to make a unilateral decision. I want you all to take what the doctors say into consideration, with respect.
I think it would be hard for me to have much enjoyment of life if I am bedridden, or go blind, or am completely deaf. I want to be able to feel the sun on my face and be outside, and to see and smell flowers. If I am not conscious and not likely to regain full consciousness, let me go.
Please do not park me in front of a tv. Let me have silence or classical music, and let me be in the sunshine as much as possible.
Read my poem, which I am posting below.
I also think it is hard to know how much energy I would have, as life is waning, and whether I would want to try to keep breathing, if it is an uphill battle to breathe. I know I do not want to be permanently on a respirator, so if there is not much hope of getting off, please don’t start it.
What I think I can say, is that it seems reasonable to try to help when there is sufficient energy to maintain a steady-state, in which I know and love my family and loved-ones. But as we get older and more frail, being able to preserve that well-being of the advanced elderly person’s life is less possible. I want to admit that, and take that into account, in offering you guidelines about the decisions you have to make.
If I am otherwise healthy, treat my bladder infection or lung infection. But if there are already some signs of advancing kidney or liver or heart damage, or the lungs are already in a compromised state, beyond just infection, I am ok with you letting me go gently.
The concept of dying a normal death, of being allowed to pass quietly and peacefully, is harder to do, once we start trying to slow the chronic losses. Sometimes it starts small and then there is more and more, a cascade of problems which are all getting worse. It is ok to stop.
I want to be loved, to be cared for gently, to be kept clean and as comfortable as possible. I want to be fed and groomed, if I can’t do it myself. But once I cannot absorb nutrition, don’t feed me, or put a tube down to help get food into my stomach. There is a lot of data that people at end-of-life are not hungry as the body is shutting down and dying.
If I can still see, help me see something beautiful; look out the window, see the flowers, the ocean, the hills. If I can hear, play the classical music I love; Bach, Chopin, Palestrina.
I would rather die in a dignified way, a little early, than be carried to the end by extraordinary interventions which take me away from home, put me into a medical setting, with people who don’t know me.
I want Sebastian and Andy to take care of themselves, too, and not be sleepless or depressed or anxious about me. I believe God loves me and that I will be falling into the loving arms of God, so it is not a bad thing for me to die. I will always love you!
Please forgive me for whatever I have done to hurt you, and know that I am sorry.
2 POEMS:
WHEN I AM DYING
When I am Dying
When I am losing all I love,
when it is almost over,
I will still have the sense of smell,
and I will remember the lightness of your touch.
I hope you will light beeswax candles by my bed.
I hope there will be laundry hanging outside my window.
I hope for bread baking in the kitchen, close enough for
me to smell it.
I want you to bring me a bowl of water to put my fingers into.
I want to be wrapped in baby flannel,
and I want you to rub my hands and feet with lotion.
Will you promise to bring me flowers that smell good:
gardenias and roses and lavender?
After my eyesight is gone, will you read to me?
When my throat is dry and choked with dust,
will you sing for me?
Will you keep changing the music, and sometimes
play Chopin?
When all else is lost, I will still be listening
to your voice, and hearing you say “I love you.”
Even if you are in the next room,
or farther than that,
I will believe it is possible
that you will still be saying it.
Martina Nicholson
THE END
If I die before the end of the story,
please finish it for me.
My legs may creak and fold,
lightning rushing through frayed wiring
sending sparks of pain,
but let my breath last
until the last task is done.
Let me hold the baby
as one holds pilgrims of the future,
with hope like shooting stars
and winter waves at high tide.
Let me learn to trust
irregular heartbeats
and slow thoughts,
let whispering
remind me of singing.
Give me bread
bring me wine
and let it be communion.
Touch me sweetly, tenderly,
If my legs fail, hold me up
so I can see
the sunlit sea.
MN 2022
martina2b 