He said he used it to remind him that the only thing he had control over was that little dot in the middle. The rest was outside of his control.
Acceptance of death is as much about accepting that we only have today and should focus on steering it in the best direction we can as it is about accepting there is an end. Don’t beat yourself up over your feelings or past conversations that you feel influenced his decision.
I have accepted that I will probably be dead in a few years. It is why I haven't had the PEG removed. I'm keeping it in so I can dump pills and vodka directly into my stomach if things hurt too much.
I have accepted things. I have all my end of life stuff sitting in a envelope on my desk. I have already paid for my remains to be taken care of. Sigh, the funeral home I paid in advance is probably going to end up on a episode of of American Greed.
But yeah, don't take it personal if we give up. There is a point where the bad is greater than the good and just checking out is the smart thing to do.
Was given these when my Dad was clearly failing to thrive and had given up. He basically stopped caring about living after my Mom died, although it wasn’t entirely clear at the time.
His reply: he's already lived longer than he expected to (he's in his late 70s) and is satisfied with what he's done. There's no doubt he loves us but he doesn't feel obligated to stick around for our sake. It's taken a long time for me to accept this as his right.
I wish I could change his mind and every day I try and think of ways to get him excited to stick around longer. I'd love for my (hypothetical future) kids to meet him. There's still so much I want to learn from him.
But I don't know what it's like to be as old as him, and I don't have a right to ask him to do more than he already has. Maybe when he's closer to the end I'll be mad at myself for not fighting harder for him. This piece - and your comment - have made me more determined to do so.
I would also caution about taking what the doctor says at face value. Right off the bat, the elderly are a population that has the lowest ROI for care because the older we get the less likely we are to survive, and I've seen many doctors on autopilot with my grandparents. Medicine is also a very difficult field where even experienced professionals can make mistakes when it comes to diagnosing something, and the elderly also tend to be the most complicated medically. It's also confounded, at least in the US, by care being doled out based on your insurance, which can further complicate an accurate diagnosis by restricting access to resources and care.
After being in and out of hospital for a while my dad is now in intensive care. The doctor took me and mom to a private room today where they explained that he's so frail, if anything happens there's no point in trying to help him. No CPR, no respirator. Basically, it's going to be either this time or another time, but it's going to be like this.
My main thought is that he's doing the opposite of being born. When I watched my kids get born, they were little things with no personality. As they grow more and more of them gets created. Their habits, what they like to eat, soon their friends and interests. Opinions about every little thing in the world.
Now I'm seeing that deconstructed in my dad. I stopped being able to talk to him about adult stuff some time ago. Science, politics, history. His thoughts on being transplanted to the west as an adult. As he's gotten more ill recently it's degenerated into what is essentially teenager stuff: why won't he exercise to improve his heart condition? It's not like he doesn't understand what the doctors say.
I might not have another conversation with him, and the last one was last night. We're beyond teenager stage now. He kept asking the same series of questions over and over. Is my heart OK? Nose? Ear? Brain? Leg? Tissemand? Yes really, he said that. The only part of his body he asked me about in Danish, not Chinese.
I feel bad about being angry with him, too. He's basically not followed any medical advice since his bypass. Many family members have brought it up with him. He's just sat there for the best part of three years, doing nothing to get better.
And part of me thinks I caused him to check out of life. Before he had his surgery I sat down with him, when we were both adults, and talked through what might have been the last conversation. He said he had no regrets, the world had treated him just fine, and if the end was now, that was fine. There was a peaceful resignation at that time. Perhaps having the sign off conversation made him not want to struggle back to fitness.