How do you get over the trauma of watching someone when they die?

Vstefans and Sunnygirl1, thank you for your replies and hugs. Sunnygirl1, you invited me to vent so here goes. I want to share what I'm feeling, because I can't hold it in, and who better than other caregivers would understand how I'm feeling? There's a special grief and regret that only caregivers experience, because we care. I remember when my maternal grandmother died at 89 (we weren't close) the only person who cried at her funeral was her caregiver.

I feel blessed to have had some time with my father before he died, when he was still able to communicate. However, things happened at the hospital, through negligence or callousness on the part of some hospital staff members,which made the loss more painful than it should have been. My father was admitted to the hospital after midnight on Dec.18 for shortness of breath and wheezing. He had CHF, chronic kidney disease and was on Lasix, He seemed to be getting better with oxygen therapy, so I went home after staying ten hours with him. I needed to wait for some deliveries at home. Later that day he suffered a silent heart attack in the hospital, but nobody told me. The nurse only said they were going to put him on the bipap to help with his breathing. Since the bipap had helped him six months earlier when he had his first bout with pneumonia, I didn't think it was necessary to rush back to the hospital that night. I needed to sleep to make up for staying up all night the night before. The following morning the doctor called to tell me my father had to be put on a ventilator, because the bipap hadn't helped him and he was suffering. He was on the ventilator under sedation for three days. Since he was in the ICU, under sedation, I visited him during the day and went home in the evening to sleep, assuming he was under close observation. The hospital is not that far from my home. On the fourth day, I found my dad awake and very distraught -- he wanted the ventilator tubes removed. At first, I thought he wanted to die, but he shook his head -- he didn't want to die, he didn't think he needed the tubes anymore. I explained to him that he had to wait a while longer until the doctor considered it safe to remove the tubes. He calmed down, but he looked so forlorn. I had never seen him so miserable. He was normally quite stoic. However, the fact he was wake and felt well enough to think he could breathe on his own gave me hope. He was able to write notes on paper to tell me what he needed. For example, he wanted a handheld fan from home to cool him off -- even though he had no fever and the room was cold, he felt unusually warm. He wanted me to direct the air flow to his nose, because it helped him breathe. Using an eraser board he told me he loved me, and I told him I loved him, something we did every day at home. I know my presence brought him comfort and that is a great consolation, but the sad images of him still haunt me.

That night I stayed with him all night and I was glad that I was able to advocate for him. When he couldn't sleep I called the nurse who gave him Fentanyl which put him to sleep right away, twice. When he awoke my dad asked me if I had slept, because I tend to suffer from insomnia. I had nodded off in the chair. I told him the nurse said we were both out like a light. My Daddy always worried about me.

On Christmas Eve, he was off the ventilator and it looked like he was recovering. He told me, "You see how much I need you?" I replied, "I need you too! That's what love is all about." He had gotten through other crises before -- he had beaten diabetes and peripheral arterial disease. His surgeon had called his recovery from gangrene on his toes a miracle. The ICU nurse told me to go home and get some rest, that he would look after my father and call me about any changes. I went home, hoping for a Christmas miracle, but I awoke with a feeling of dread. On Christmas morning, I found my father in respiratory distress, the oxygen cannula had fallen out of his nose and he was begging for air, water and God's mercy, over and over. His oxygen saturation had dropped into the low 80's. No one was helping him, and this was in the ICU! When my father saw me he thanked me over and over -- it broke my heart! I got a nurse to put an oxy-vent mask on him and increase his oxygen. He shouldn't have been switched to the cannula, because he was breathing through his mouth. The nasal gastric tube was blocking his airway. After that I knew he could not be left alone. Thank God I had slept the night before, because that helped me stay awake with him for the next 36 hours.

A couple of days before, I had reassured my father that there was a closed-circuit tv camera watching him in the ICU. He waved his hand in a dismissive gesture as if to say, "They're not watching me." I should have taken that as a warning. Still, I needed to sleep and there was no one else to stay with him through the night, because my relatives live too far away.

I'm so grateful that my half brother, a Critical Care RN, and my niece arrived at the hospital on Christmas Day. The doctor told us my dad's kidneys were no longer responding to diuretics and his creatinine level was rising daily. When I asked about loop diuretic braking and suggested they try a different diuretic, nobody even knew what braking is. I had asked the nephrologist about aquapheresis and he said they didn't offer it and that he needed full dialysis. The hospitalist said my dad was too weak to be moved. She seemed more like a robot than a human being. She said there were only two options, a heart operation or Comfort Care. If he had the operation he would need to be put back on the ventilator and placed on dialysis, which might kill him because the volume fluctuations would stress his heart. The doctor said his heart was not able to perfuse his lungs and kidneys properly, because of mitral valve regurgitation, enlarged left atrium, arrythmia with a blood clot, and blocked vessels. He had been diagnosed with advanced heart disease several years earlier but wasn't considered a good candidate for surgery then, now at 86, after his massive heart attack, his chances were even worse. She said his heart's ejection fraction was 15%, barely enough to sustain life. Mercifully, his heart attack had been silent so he didn't have pain, but respiratory distress is bad enough.

My niece and I tried very hard to convince the doctor to consider other options to no avail. My brother the RN said Comfort Care would save Dad a lot of suffering. My brother and niece started crying. I was still in shock, but broke down over the phone to my best friend in Cincinnati.

The hardest part was when my dad asked me if he was going (dying). I told him that the doctor said his heart wasn't doing too good and he needed an operation. I wanted so much to give him some hope to cling to, but I needed to know his wishes. He didn't want to go back on the ventilator and he didn't want to stay weeks in the hospital recovering from surgery. Two years earlier he had spent six weeks in the hospital just recovering from a botched toe amputation. That took a lot out of him -- he had lost so much weight, he couldn't afford to lose any more. Recovering from open heart surgery would have been much worse. I hated the idea of giving up on him. My purpose in life had been to try to get him well, but I didn't want him to suffer. A respiratory therapist told us that a lot of his patients were living vegetables on respirators because their families wouldn't let them go.

My father said good-bye and thanked everyone present, my half brother and his wife, and my niece. He said to tell his family and friends he loves them, thanks for everything and God bless them. Then he started praying. I told him he had nothing to worry about, that he was such a good, kind man all of his life that God would surely welcome him into Paradise. I reminded him that the priest had already given him the Anointing of the Sick while he was under sedation. His soul was pure and he would go straight to heaven. He thanked me. I had called two priests hoping one of them would comfort my father now that he was conscious, but one never returned my call and the other said he would send a different priest who works at the hospital, but he never showed up. More regret there.

For Comfort Care, my father was moved to a private room and placed on a morphine drip. I missed all the monitors, which I used to fixate upon, looking for the slightest sign of improvement. Thankfully, the morphine and removing the NG tube helped his breathing, and there was a brief time when he seemed his normal, calm self once again, except he was very weak. Again he started praying for God's mercy until a male nurse told him, "God is good, my friend." That seemed to reassure him. I treasure his last peaceful moments, before he lost consciousness. I told him where there is life there is hope and that I couldn't wait to get him home so I could take care of him. He nodded. One of the last things he said to me was that Michael was going to get tired (taking care of him). Michael was the RN who had saved his life during his six-week hospitalization a couple of years ago. That is another story. Unfortunately, Michael was working on a different floor. It really is the luck of the draw -- if you get good hospitalists and dedicated, compassionate nurses, your chances are much better.

As my father lay dying, my half brother and I prayed and read passages from Scripture. I told him I loved him and thanked him for being such a wonderful father all of my life. I had told him these things before. I held his hand. This time was beautiful from a spiritual perspective, but terrible from the physical point of view. People say that hearing is the last thing to go, but I hope to God that his soul was outside his body so he could view his physical suffering with detachment. The nurses told me he was not feeling pain, but how do we really know? At least, he did not appear agitated as some patients do even with morphine, as one nurse told me. My brother had to go home to sleep so I was alone for the last two hours. After 36 hours of keeping vigil with my father, I couldn't help but doze off for a few moments. That was when my father passed away. It was as if he had waited for me to fall asleep before he departed. A nurse said she saw him draw his last breath. One of the nurses was crying. I cried when the doctor confirmed his death. I had already cried several times before my father died, but quietly, so as not to upset him. I'm glad it was the nicer hospitalist who was on duty that early morning, and not the "robot".

The hospitalist who saw my father during his prior admission had urged him to select a DNR status -- is this even ethical? He said to him, "If you're not going to have heart surgery to save your life, then you might as well be consistent." My father was consistent, he had opted not to have chest compressions because it could break his ribs, and he opted not to have surgery, because it would break his breastbone -- he didn't want his bones broken. He did opt for trying the ventilator though, because he thought it would give him time to recover, which it seemed to do, until his kidneys and liver started to fail. I can't help but wonder what if they had tried a different diuretic two weeks ago, or aquapheresis, would my father still be alive?

My dad had been admitted to the hospital two weeks prior for shortness of breath which was diagnosed as pneumonia of unknown etiology. The hospital lab failed to do a sputum culture, even though the sample had been taken The doctor said this error was "disconcerting", but he still discharged my father after two days with just a prescription for 200 mg of Cefpodoxime Pro. I think my father didn't have pneumonia, and that it was his CHF all along. Pneumonia and CHF look very similar on x-rays. I should have gotten a second opinion or tried a hospital that offers aquapheresis. I have heard of aquapheresis helping CHF patients in worse condition than my father was in. However, he had been diagnosed and treated for pneumonia six months earlier, and had recovered, so I had no real reason to doubt he had pneumonia again, except that his sputum had not been tested. Six months ago it had been cultured for staph (non MRSA).

When he was admitted on Dec.18th, for shortness of breath again, the hospital did a sputum culture which turned out to be negative. Even though he wasn't in a high risk category for TB, they also put him in isolation for several days while a tuberculin skin test was performed, which was also negative. They gave him some powerful antibiotics, vancomycin and Levaquin. Nephrotoxicity has been associated with vancomycin since its introduction in the early 1950s. And I found an article called, "Fluoroquinolones: The Deadliest Antibiotics on the Market". Maybe the combo of antibiotics shut down his kidneys or even caused his heart attack. My grandmother died of a heart attack while on vancomycin back in 1984, also at the age of 86. She also had CHF and kidney disease. I understand that vancomycin and Levaquin are sometimes needed, and he had survived their use in previous years, but his kidney function was better then. If my dad's sputum hadn't cultured for bacteria, then why were those heavy duty antibiotics being used? My dad's death certificate states cause of death as "pneumonia of unknown etiology" along with respiratory failure, heart failure, massive myocardial infarction, and acute renal failure.

There's one last thing I want to vent about.... Several days previously, while my father was sedated on the ventilator in the ICU, there was a nurse from hell who always talked down to me and called me a five-year-old in terms of my medical knowledge, compared to the nurses and doctors. I'm not a trained RN, but in 30 years of caregiving for four relatives in succession, I have done a lot of research on their behalf. Still. I didn't want to rattle her ego, so I said, "You certainly know what you're doing." She replied, "Yes, I know my shit!" At one point she told me, "What would you rather have, someone who knows what they're doing or someone who is "touchy-feeling"? I replied I'd rather have both. She answered sharply, "Well, you can't have both!" I asked her if it would be contra-indicated to place an extra blanket on my father. The blankets were thin and the room was cold. Knowing how arrogant this nurse was, I was careful to phrase it as a question, not a demand. Still, she got flustered and said, "If you place too many blankets on him, his temperature will rise and then we'll have to give him more antibiotics." He didn't have a fever and he felt cool to the touch. The nurse lectured me with a sarcastic tone, "You may have taken care of your dad at home, and I'm sure he's a wonderful man and all, but he is in a different world now!" I replied that I was just trying to advocate for my father because he can't speak for himself. She reluctantly brought the blanket and proceeded to wrap it over the top of his head. Since my father wasn't used to sleeping with his head covered, I asked a male nurse permission to move the blanket to cover his body. This nurse misunderstood me and brought more blankets, which further irritated the nurse from hell. I'm not Asian, but she mentioned Chinese families who demand six blankets on their loved ones, even when they have a fever, One thing she told me that disturbed me more than anything else was that she said her religious beliefs didn't approve of keeping people alive artificially! My first impulse was to ask the Intensivist to have her reassigned, but he wasn't available. Then I remembered what my father had told me about not making waves, because he might be the one to pay for it. I was afraid the nurse would pull the plug on my dad, in accordaince with her belief system or as revenge for my complaining about her So I kept quiet and even asked her permission to dim the lights, so she could enjoy her power trip. Later I saw her moaning in the hallway that people don't understand how much work a nurse has to do. An older nurse replied, "Sorry, that's part of the job!"

I know this post is too long, but I think it's therapeutic to write about our experiences as caregivers. Now I have to find a new purpose for my life, but right now my life feels pointless and I'm afraid of spending the rest of my life alone. .

As my best friend who also lost both her parents told me this evening.... "Life isn't perfect. But our intentions matter. That we cared and tried, matters. Some things, while maybe altering somewhat the things that happen, may not ultimately change the outcome. Maybe they might have made them worse." God only knows.

Thank you all for sharing your experiences. It does really help. They sound very positive, but ......I'm going to really pray about it. I know that with God I can do all things, but it seems like I've asked for so much strength lately.

My cousin seems pretty stable right now, of course, I've learned to be careful when saying that, but I know she is likely to take a turn downward. I know the time will come. Of course, she may go suddenly without being on Hospice and lingering on. I do want to make sure she's comforted and doesn't feel alone.
If it does come to that, I'll discuss it with the Hospice team and get their input. I'm sure they've seen all kinds of situations.

Sunnygirl, I do think most people fear being present at the passing of someone they love. I was also with my Daddy when he passed and for me, I am thankful to have been able to be present, both for him and for me. As Carol mentioned, I also felt Daddy's spirit leave his body. It even felt as though the room had the softest and most comforting glow and in my heart I knew he was home and no longer suffering. I know it was a comfort to him to be surrounded by those he loved and as time passed, I think it helped me through the grieving process to have been there. Prayers for you and your cousin.

Sunnygirl, you aren't alone in feeling afraid. Most of are until it happens.

I will say that I've attended three deaths of elderly people who were more than ready to go and they were not only rewarding experiences but beautiful beyond words.

I learned so much about the cycle of life, which includes death of the body. I will say that my spiritual beliefs influence my reactions, however there isn't a doubt in my mind that while I held my dad I felt his spirit leave his body. I knew then that he'd been released from the cage that had kept him in his dementia world for ten years. Just my view, but I thought I'd share it in case it helps.
Carol

Sunnygirl1, I always wondered if I could hold it together when my husband died. He was nearly 20 years older, and had a heart condition, so it seemed likely he'd go first.

Well he didn't die of a heart attack. Instead he lived longer than his siblings and developed dementia in addition to the heart problems. I took care of him for about 10 years. I felt very privileged to be with him when he died. I held his hand and we exchanged I love you. I miss him terribly, and his being gone is still hard on me. But the death itself was a witnessing and sharing of a final life milestone. I am so glad I was there.

I'm not sure I can be with someone when they pass away. I know that it isn't far with my cousin. I hope it's very far away with my parents, but they are in their 70's. I pray they live to be 100! lol

I'm not sure what to do about it. If someone is in Hospice do you have to be present? It terrifies me, though I think I'm a pretty strong person. I don't know how I can do it. My cousin has no one but me. I'm just too scared.

Parysia - you needed and did not get your chance to "debrief"! I suspect your being there was a blessing to him even if he did not seem all that aware, and maybe someday despite how awful it was, you can take some pride in the privilege of having been there for him.

I remember my mom's breathing changing to Cheyne-Stokes (agonal) too and how it slowly and miserably dawned on me that this was "it" rather than just another angina attack she could come back from at least a little while. I can identify with that feeling of it seeming a bit or even a lot unreal...once I really knew and let myself understand....I just stayed and held her hand and told her it was OK, she had done her best. The hospice staff had all ducked out after she calmed down from the chest pain she had before they gave medication for it, and didn't expect it to be right then and there either or they would not have just left me alone. I pushed the call button but they couldn't or didn't come back right away and I did know better than to leave Mom alone to go get them.

I was not there for my Dad - I was driving to try to get there from Little Rock to Pgh PA in a snow storm - I had been at his side in the hospital once and was afraid he might pass then and there but he pulled through. It's hard emotionaly either way!

I just lost my beloved father two days after Christmas and my mother died two months earlier in October. My dad suffered a massive heart attack along with CHF and acute renal failure. I watched him die for 36 hours straight in "Comfort Care". It was the hardest thing I have ever had to do. I was alone most of that time with him because I am his only daughter with no husband or children. I can relate so much to the detached feeling you felt -- like the world was foreign to you and like you weren't connected to it anymore That was exactly how I felt as I looked out the hospital window as day turned into night. Through the night I listened to my father's agonal respirations and I am still trying to get over it. I loved my father more than anything in this world. I lived with him for 55 years so the loss of him is something I'll never get over. As long as he was around I was happy and could face anything, but now I have no one I can trust so completely. Now I suffer from insomnia and anxiety. I think I have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. I went to a drop-in grief support meeting but it was cancelled because of low attendance. I'm seeing a therapist in a couple of days. I've started going to church again which helps a little. Spending time with my cousins also helps. I have one cousin who had a near death experience so she's convinced that our departed loved ones live on. Writing about my feelings to my online friends has also helped. A friend in Europe who also lost both of his parents told me he derives much comfort and strength by going to a spiritual club that his mother often attended. Although he was skeptical at first, things he has witnessed with percipients or clairvoyants has convinced him 100% that there exists life after death. I signed up just to reply to your post, because your experience and feelings resembled mine more than anything I've read yet. My heart goes out to you and I hope you are healing as I hope to heal.

You have too much anxiety for you to handle. I know the sheer dread you feel. I have not experienced death like so many here have. But, I know when I am overwhelmed beyond my human capacity & still have the worry on my mind to the point of dreaming the worry in exaggerated forms. You have to back off of this. It's your life & if you want to get away from all the death & dying-- you have to physically remove yourself from it. Life is for the living. You have much living to do yet. Death will always be around us. You need a vacation from it, now. Some people "feel" too much. I am that way. I feel everything with out a filter, and it's hard to take on all the time. Take a break from all this & live your life! Best advice I can give you! God bless your loving heart! (Give it to Him for now, He can handle it!) Peace! blou

What a horrendous thing to happen to your brother! I hope that he's getting professional counseling. Even law enforcement officers go through counseling after they are involved in a death.

Your support is extremely valuable to him, Joel, but he will most likely need professional help as well.

That being said, he's lucky to have you by his side.
Carol

Hi, a couple of days ago my brother was driving and went to turn into a street. Before he turned into the street he looked left to check if anyone was coming and then looked right and a body fell right near him. The body hit the road and bounced up a metre and then laid on the road dead. My brother said he cannot sleep and whenever he tries to, all he can see is the mans face with brain over the road and he constantly hears the sound of the mans skull smashing. I'm really worried about him because he is a very strong male but I really need advice on how to help him get through this tough time?

Be happy for them. They have left their old shells behind to embark on their real life.

Addie, start by asking the MD for anxiety medication and grief counseling. You never got over Dad, you still have a lot of baggage to offload. You cannot change life and death, you CAN learn how to cope with it and not let it paralyze you.

Reading both these new answers and the old ones, it makes me teary again remembering my experiences. I was there for my mom and wish I had been there for my dad. We had already said all the good things that needed said, and I'd sat with him through some hospital stays where it could have been the end, but not the one that really was. One of our PM&R residents is with her mom right now who is in critical condition in need of a liver transplant and she might or might not make it. It is just about killing me to do all the extra work as well as the housework and the extra things my husband still needs done but she will never hear that from me because this kind of time is sacred and there is no substitute for being there.

The only other thing I can add, is sure, you can expect to be able to function and feel happy again, but not really to "get over it" and be "done" grieving. Grief IS more complicated when the relationship was not as good, too - that seems almost universal. Being there for the last days and last moments of the life of another human being really does change you forever, no getting around it! It starts as being kind of a painful part of you and you need to debrief like you would any other trauma...it gradually becomes just part of you, but the emotions reawaken at predictable and unpredictable times, and you never know when you may discover another layer of it all! Getting help..helps...but it does not make the experience or the impact of it go away! The only way "out" is through. Acceptance, acceptance, acceptance of what happened, of how it feels to be the one left behind, and of whatever else you find in your heart.

Feeling better now, the memorial service was a few days ago, I was asked to say a few words and I was able to express myself in a way that touched quite a few of the people who attended my brothers service. I've been thinking a lot about life and the truth is, beyond the care that we give each other, the rest of it is meaningless. Nothing matters except love, compassion and charity.

Thanks everyone. My mom is in the last stages of dementia and is starving herself to death. She soon to be transferred to a new facility which will meet her changing needs. I see my mom twice a week as it is a drive. Each time I see her, her body has deteriorated more. I think part of the letting go process is to find peace. For us, we are both on a journey. Because she was an emotionally abusive parent, I find it more difficult to find solace in the fact that she will go, and so many things remained unsaid. I am not angry with her, but rather sad that so many good years were waited, as she did her best to make all around her miserable. I grieve for my dream of what I wish should have been, and also for the impact her behaviour had on my desire to push others away when I need them most.

Contact your local hospice for either grief counseling or take the course they offer for volunteers. Either one would be well worth your time. Talking to a minister might help. I believe our faith has a great deal to do with how we handle everything in life.

If you feel so wrapped up in your own reaction and anxiety getting out and helping others with volunteer work could be the answer. Stepping outside of yourself and making a difference in someone else's life can be a big benefit. Grief comes to all of us and there is no one answer in how to get through it. I do know going through anything alone is always much more difficult. God bless!

I was with my brother 60 when he died, I was holding his left hand, his wife was holding his right. He entered the hospital on July 14th, he was weak because his liver was failing and he had a bleed in his intestines. Almost immediately after entering the emergency room things went downhill, the next thing we knew, he was intubated and in ICU, then his kidneys began to fail, then coma, then he's getting better, comes off the ventilator and out of the coma. However, he's never the same, he's confused, delusional, hepatic encephalopathy they call it. Out of ICU into intermediate care, now it's August 1st, the doctors start talking hospice, me, another brother and his wife are his constant companions, going to see him in shifts. It's exhausting, sometimes he knows you, sometimes no, he wants to get up, he wants the furniture moved, he wants cigarettes, on and on. On his last day, Friday August 22nd, I was first to arrive, immediately I can tell something is different. His breathing is shallow and there are long pauses, he isn't swallowing, the nurse is suctioning his mouth, this started sometime in the middle of the night. Unplanned, two of my brothers show up along with his wife. The nurse tells us that his time is at hand, it was surreal, watching those last few breaths, his eyes, it's something I won't soon forget. Actually, I can't get it out of my head, it's causing me a lot of anxiety. Today his wife gave me some personal items that belonged to my brother, I feel guilty calling them my own. How is it that we don't have to take a class on how to deal with death?

My father passed a week and 1/2 ago. Im already back at work. It seems like a world away and a century ago, but it was just 9 days. I miss him so much, but as was said before on these replies, it was time for him to go. He suffered so much. He died at home in hospice care. We made the decision to bring him home because he wanted this and hated hospitals. I asked God daily to please do his will or take his pain while he was suffering at home.He continued to ask for my grandmother who passed in 1988 as if she was in the room and he was telling her he wanted to go. These experiences teach us to be humble and not sweat the small stuff. Love matters more than anything. It is worth the experience, no matter how many times you go through it.

Yes, to the role of therapy. It is so helpful.

I think two realities make letting go of our declining parent(s) tough. One, it means for many of us that we are taking their place in society. Two, it means becoming more of our own teacher, guide as sometimes we have to learn to almost like parent ourselves, become our own best encourager, and find what nurtures us best that will last us for the rest of our life. Our parents made it and are making it through these final stages of life and so can we!

Hi Addie ~ So sorry for all the stress you have been dealing with. I understand since I was with my mom when she passed away, but the truth is I had been watching her slip away day by day for at least a month. I knew it was time for her to go, and I was glad that she would be free of her pain and misery, but it was still the most bizarre feeling to tell my best friend/mentor/supporter/mom that it was OK to go when what I really wanted was for to get well and stay with me. To answer your question ... I don't know that I will ever get over it, but I am learning to get through it. I try to remind myself that her illness and passing were, in the grand scheme, a short time in a much longer life and she was able to make a positive impact on so many other people's lives. I also found counseling very helpful ... not that it could change any of the circumstances, but just having my feelings validated by an objective, caring person meant a lot to me. I also learned it's ok to "check out" from our reality once in a while in order to preserve ourselves, and that it is not selfish to do so. I hope you will be able to find some help for your mom, your aunt and yourself, so you do not have to shoulder the burden all by yourself. Hang in there!!

It sounds like your mother's mind has further declined. I noticed a new phase in my mother's decline. It appears that her mind may have gone back to when she was a single parent and I'm her only child. My step-dad is 86 and confused, but he also does not like me having durable and medical POA over my mother. My mom does not think she will live past 80 which she will turn at the end of July. Her basis for that is the death of her brother last year when he turned 80.

Thank you all for taking the time to send hugs and to tell your stories. My heart goes out to you all also, and it is comforting to me to see that I am not alone. I think I have to do something. The trauma seemed to have lessened a bit with time until that moment with my mom and I knew it was still there. I'm trying to take better care of myself and get more sleep which I had not been taking time to do. I'm going out with my son during the day also just to get some space away from all the impending death. Today my mom was talking to my aunt telling her about a shopping trip with my sisters, and she said something like: [my dad's name] and I didn't buy anything just the girls...talking like my dad was there with her shopping with my sisters. My dad has been dead almost 2 years. Oh boy...this is not a good thing.

I'm not certain how far along the grief process you are about your dad, but your mom's health is creating emotional flashbacks to that loss and filling you with anticipatory grief about your mother. It's time for you to find some help for yourself as already described above. I've seen many people die in the emergency room and other places as well as buried many people during 20 years of my former life as a pastor, but it is different when it is your own relative. One reason it is different is because of distance. Right now with your mom declining and your elderly aunt at home, you do not have any distance or space apart from people dying all around you which would exhaust as well as depress anyone over time. You need some space and I hope for your sake that you can find some.

I was with my dad taking care of him the last 6 mts. before he passed from cancer. I was with him holding his hand as he passed over to Heaven. I wouln't trade those moments for anything! He had such a peacefull look on his face when it was over! I did have to read a couple of books "closer to the light" is one of them that helped me get through his illness and passing. I hope you get a chance to read it..God Bless You...April

I understand your feelings and hope you will check with someone to see if you have post-traumatic stress syndrome. Please check with every agency you can about receiving counseling and help with anxiety. I share your sorrow. I watched my father die by myself. Even my brother who is a doctor did not show up and I watched the one person I truly trusted die by myself although doctors were there. My husband was present but did not love or like my father although he was kind to him. Please stay in touch with us. Rebecca

Hi Addie. I am 41 years old and have been through this a couple of times and now I am taking care of my 62 year old father who had two massive heart attacks back to back, was gone for over 10 minutes after the first and developed an anoxic brain injury because of lack of oxygen. He is the reason I joined this site.

Let me just say that I am sorry that you are so overwhelmed by the events that are occurring in your life. No one ever deals with the pain of watching loved ones suffer or die and says it is easy. Ten years ago, I was dealt quite a blow when my grandmother was diagnosed with liver cancer. Never a drink, a cigarette, nothing and this strong, vital woman was diagnosed with this terminal disease. As well as that happening, a friend, 28 years old, fell off of his roof and was in a hospital bed as a vegatable until he died. This was all over the course of 6 months. By the way, my grandmother died at 3:30 AM and my friend died exactly 12 hours later.

I was with my grandmother when she died. The last word she spoke was "pain". It was heartbreaking. She was heavily sedated after that and her heart gave out. The suffering that I saw this woman, one of my best friends, go through almost made it bearable that she was gone. I also think it was a gift to me to be there with her. On the flip side, it was a comfort to her not to be alone.

It was not an easy day and I miss both just as much today as I did ten years ago, but if you have done all that you can do and the person that you love so much is ready to go, you just have to keep plugging through your life and let them go. Your life has not ended. You need to enjoy even the smallest of things that bring you happiness. For some it is volunteering or getting a pet. For others it is prayer. I don't know you, but it seems like you have an overwhelming amount of sadness and grief. Maybe you have someone to speak with. Maybe a long walk could do some good. For me, I get in the car, blast the radio and sing my favorite songs at the top of my lungs. By the way, I am a real sucky singer, but I don't care. It is a release. You do what you have to do and try to be strong for your loved one.

I wish you peace and happiness in your life. Don't ever give up and don't ever be afraid to vent or ask someone for help, but you have to do something for your well being. Take care and I really do hope the best for you.

I do not know if you can---but the trauma seems to lessen with time--I have experienced this-firsthand.

Listen to the above....MANY years of experience here! Everyone "hits the wall" at some point during their caregiving journey. Yours is now. Do not ignore it. It is your body's way of telling you to make a change or it will do it for you.
Look into an ALF or NH for your aunt. Limit visits with your Mom until you can get things under control. And please seek counseling and a good doctor who understands how to treat emotional issues. I am not normally a fan of drug therapies but it might be a good "stop gap" measure until you can get your feet under you.
Make just one change today that will improve your life....even if it is a small one.
And come here as often as you need...we're open 24/7 :o)

Hey there Addie,
I was with my mom and dad when they both died and it is a bear.
Personally, because everyone is different, what helped me cope was the fact that it was time for them to go. their poor bodies couldn't take any more and it was time for them to go home.
When my mom died almost a year ago now, I held her hands and looked into her beautiful blue eyes and was telling her to go and find daddy and that he was there waiting for her. It tore my guts out, make no mistake but the reality was that it was time for her to go. She was suffering and then she was free. She actually died with a little smile on her face. I will never forget it.

I agree with you that you can't continue to go through this. Carol has excellent advice in seeking a live support group and are you taking any meds for anxiety? I sure was and still am!! no guilt there! a panic attack is the worst and I was having them left and right and decided that this was no way to live especially since they have a nice med for it and you don't have to take it all the time, just when you need one. xanax works for me and talk to your doctor. If he/she doesn't see it your way, get another doctor. life's too short.

Say what you have to say to your mom, all the things.... you know what I mean, you love her and you wish she would love forever and the 2 of you could go on and on, but that you'll be ok and you will see her again in the blink of an eye.

Now here's a trick that you may be able to use:
EVERY time you have anegative thought and I mean EVERY time, you redirect yourself with a differt positive thought. For me it was a boat. I trained myself to think of a beautiful boat every time I thought of something awful like my daddy's death or mom being so sick, etc.
You can actually create a new habit for yourself in 21 days. It takes 21 days to change a behavior and if all of this insanity, and it is insanity, is getting you bonkers, redirect your thoughts and you will beging to see a difference in how you feel. It's not the easiest thing to do but it sure beats the sox off of not trying something!

Is there a way to find a facility for your aunt? Maybe it's time that you lived your life without this insanity. I know that death is part of life, but I for one am not wired to be a caregiver even though I did it for almost 6 years. I would NEVER do it again and I don't want to be the one sitting bedside holding a hand again either.
I did my job and saw both my parents to their graves and that's enough.
OK, Addie, I hear you and please keep venting here because this website is something that can keep you from going totally bonkers. We Care.
lovbob