Tag: dying

Posted in death, Life

A final farewell

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Photo by Alexander Grey on Unsplash

The text came in the middle of my garage workout. Someone was in the hospital in hospice care, and I should go see them.

I’ve been retired from full-time ministry and the message came to me from someone I hadn’t seen in over a decade through another person I haven’t had contact with in over a year.

I didn’t respond.

More texts followed. “It’s not going to be long.” “They wanted you to know.” “You have to hurry, they are 100% going to pass.” “We’re going up there now.”

My wife was in the text group, and when poked she her head into the garage, I said, “Yeah, I saw it. Where are they?” We glanced through the texts until we found a location mentioned that doesn’t even exist. Hmm. Not helpful.

Feeling a bit convicted, I texted the current pastor and found out where she was. She was in a hospice care facility, not a hospital. I knew exactly where it was.

But I didn’t rush down. I know from experience that dying in palliative care often takes time. The dying will be comfortable but unconscious, and I will spend time talking with the family. Which in this case, were some who weren’t fond of me in the past. So I confess, I dragged my feet a little.

When I arrived, I greeted a daughter and her husband, a stepson and his wife, a couple of grandchildren and a great grandson. The husband was not there. They told me, “He just couldn’t do it.”

I understand, but I don’t understand. They had thirty-plus years of marriage behind them. Wouldn’t this be the “worse” that goes along with the “better?” But, I reminded myself, everyone deals with this differently.

The visit went okay. I said a prayer, chatted with the family a little, and left them to be with each other. My old friend wasn’t conscious, was comfortable, breathing slowly, and not yet close to death. She would receive good care for another day or two from amazing caretakers.

I glad I went. I’ve heard that the last sense we lose is hearing, so the person dying can hear and be comforted by those talking to them. So I’m glad I got to talk to her one last time. The folks who texted me? I don’t think they ever got there.

Posted in Through the Bible Devotions

That’s a nasty way to die

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Photo by Brian Wangenheim on Unsplash

A “through the bible devotion” from 2 Chronicles 21.

All of a sudden, as I’m reading through Chronicles thinking, “I’ve heard all this before,” this leaps out at me:

After all this the Lord struck [Jehoram] in his bowels with an incurable disease. In the course of time, at the end of two years, his bowels came out because of the disease, and he died in great agony (2 Chronicles 21:19).

Yuk. That wasn’t in Kings. Come to think of it, neither was Asa’s terminal illness:

In the thirty-ninth year of his reign Asa was diseased in his feet, and his disease became severe. Yet even in his disease he did not seek the Lord, but sought help from physicians. And Asa slept with his fathers, dying in the forty-first year of his reign (2 Chronicles 16:12,13).

So of course I wonder, “Who else died a gruesome death?”

  • Jezebel got thrown out a window (2 Kings 9:33).
  • Sheba had his head cut off and thrown over a city wall (2 Samuel 20:22).
  • When King Herod got a little too full of himself, God struck him down and “he was eaten by worms and breathed his last” (Acts 12:23).
  • Jael drove a tent peg through Sisera’s head (Judges 4:21).

And of course, crucifixion is a horrible way to die.

I love to ask middle-school students, “What would be the worst way to die?” They answer everything from getting eaten by a shark to being seal in an oil drum to sitting naked on a fire ant pile. They like to hear vivid biblical descriptions like those above.

I guess that’s one way to get them into God’s Word!

Posted in dying, Life

One more time: visiting a friend in hospice

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

I went to visit some old friends the other day. They are living in a beautiful assisted living facility just a few miles from my home. He’s been getting some physical therapy and is getting around really well. She is receiving hospice care, and her family told me she only had a day or two left to live.

Hoping that she would be lucid, I went to visit her right after I spoke with her daughter. Though confined to a bed, she was awake, comfortable, conversant, witty, and all smiles. She had every reason to be. She had all four of her daughters there with her. When I walked in, they were singing one of her favorite hymns, “For All the Saints.” Her two sons had been there the week before. I was thankful I had this chance to sit and talk with her for a while.

That was five days ago. Death isn’t an exact science. It’s inevitable, but it’s not predicable. We’ll just have to extend grace to the hospice folks when they answer the question, “How long does she have?” She’s not conscious anymore, but she’s comfortable and listening to all the conversations going on around her.

Whenever I’ve asked people about the best way to die, I often get the answer, “In my sleep.” On the one hand, that sounds like a great way to go. But on the other hand, you might miss out on all those precious moments you get to spend with friends and family. When death comes unexpectedly or accidentally, many wish they could have seen or talked to them one more time. A few days in hospice provides a lot of “one more times.”

My dad was in and out of hospice care the last few years of his life. My brother, sister, and I had a lot of “one more times” with him as he flirted with death but kept bouncing back. I think he enjoyed the attention and company when it looked like his time was up.

I like going to visit someone who’s in hospice care. When the finish line is in sight, the conversations are meaningful, the desire for life is powerful, and every moment is precious.

Posted in memories, teaching

The worst way to die

Posted on by William Douthwaite

The question seemed simple enough. “What do you think would be the worst way to die?”

It’s like I flipped a switch. The room full of fairly disinterested 7th and 8th graders came to life with a flood of macabre methods of taking human life. Clearly I was not the first to ask them this question, and they excitedly offered up these horrible ways of killing, some of which I’ve never heard of before.

  • Put someone in a hollow brazen bull and light a fire under it until the person bakes to death.
  • Stuff someone in a barrel and nail the top shut, simply leaving them to die and slowly rot away.
  • Impale the victim on a sharp stick which would slowly pierce the length of their body.
  • Dip someone in the Amazon River, allowing the piranha to eat away their flesh.

I’ve been teaching this age group for a long time, but I’ve never had a class so fascinated with death and dying. I doubt many had even been to a funeral or seen a corpse, so this was all theoretical.

I remember doing a play in Junior High school called “The Lottery” based on a story by Shirley Jackson. It was about a small town that annually chose the name of one citizen who would be stoned to death by everyone else. The tradition provided a communal outlet for hate and anger. When everyone you know takes your life, that seems to be a pretty bad way to go.

Posted in dying, Life

The best and the worst

Posted on by William Douthwaite

After two worship services this morning, I headed out to Stuart Meyer hospice house (in Palm Coast, FL) to see Kay. By the grace of God I last saw Kay on Wednesday, the last day she was awake and aware. I was glad to talk with her, give her communion and pray with her. Within hours, the doctors found a brain tumor and plans were made for hospice care. From that time one, she was unconscious.

Early this morning, I realized I’ve known Kay for more than twenty years. Before we built a new sanctuary, and before we paid someone to be an office manager, she was a volunteer, answering phones and helping me get ready for Sunday morning. I did the memorial for her husband ten years ago. I will soon do hers.

A lot of pastoral care happens on the extremes of life. I am there at birth and baptism, and then at death and funerals. In between I get to be a part of weddings and marriages, confirmations and graduations, and birthdays and anniversaries. I get to share in the best of life as well as the most difficult times.

That’s what makes this job pastor so unique, interesting and rewarding. I get to ride the waves of celebration, wade through the muck of disappointment, cradle a new life in my arms and hold a hand one last time before their last breath. The words of encouragement, hope, strength and comfort are always my Lord’s and never my own as I represent Him in times of both life and death, beginnings and ends, joy and sorrow, and laughter and tears.

I began my day by holding a newborn baby in my arms and welcomed her into God’s family. I ended it by holding the hand of a child of God about to take her last breath in this world. What a privilege to experience both!

Posted in dying, Life, Ministry

You need to hear it again.

Posted on by William Douthwaite

silvestri-matteo-176500The call came pretty late last night, about 10:45. I was driving, and felt my phone buzz in my pocked, but didn’t listen to the message until after I got home. “She said she thinks he’s dying.” I only live about a mile away and I didn’t want them to be alone, so I headed over to the apartment.

When I arrived, it was and it wasn’t what I expected. I’ve been with many people in hospice care for the last days and hours of their lives. I’m familiar with the shallow, irregular, rattling breathing. I just didn’t think it would happen this soon. Just hours earlier, he had been awake, conversant, signing his own documents and deciding to come home from the hospital. Hospice hadn’t even been to the house yet, and it looked like he’d be gone before they even arrived. He wasn’t conscious, but he also didn’t seem uncomfortable, which was a blessing.

A few more people arrived. All we could do was wait. Wait for a call back from hospice. Wait and wonder whether it was a wise choice to come home. Wait and pray, commending him to the Lord’s care.

With her encouragement, we left about 12:30 pm. She knew who to call if anything got out of hand. When I called back this morning, I learned he had died about an hour after we all left. Her words to me on the phone were, “I know he’s with the Lord. I just hope God accepts him.”

Without hesitation, I replied, “I have no doubt! He had faith in Christ. We just talked about that the other day when I brought him communion, He was forgiven. You don’t have to worry about that at all.”

“Thank you so much. That’s just what I needed to hear.”

If you know me at all, you know I talk about that all the time. Maybe when you’re sitting there on a Sunday and life is pretty good and you don’t have too many worries, it doesn’t register. But when the breathing stops, you feel all alone, and reality kicks in, it suddenly becomes an issue. So, you need to hear it again. If I can, I’ll be there to make sure you do.

Lately it seems like I’ve been spending a lot of time with people who get hit with stuff over and over again. What do you do for someone when the cancer keeps coming back? Or the headaches? Or the strokes? Or the flooding? I’m humbled knowing I don’t have a whole lot of answers. But I get to bring Christ, and he gives more than we ask or imagine.