Category Archives: End of life

Marge Curtis, May 1,1918 ~ December 18, 2011

Mom at twenty-three

Those of you who are regular readers of my blog know that every Monday is devoted to Monday’s Link Roundup. This Monday is different. Yesterday Mom died at Victoria Hospice at the age of ninety-three.

Mom always believed that when she transitioned to that other side, she’d be met by my Dad,  Ed Curtis, who died in 1990. I like to think she was right.  And whether by coincidence or design her death took place on their seventy-second wedding anniversary. They were married December 18, 1939.

Throughout my life Mom was one of my biggest fans and supporters. In many ways she introduced me to story telling at an early age. An avid reader, her favorite activity before going to sleep was to read a few pages from her latest book. Every morning I would eagerly run into her bedroom to sit by her bed. There, she would relate the latest installment – no doubt censoring some of the racy bits for the ears of an eight-year-old.

She also regaled me with stories from her teenage years when her family homesteaded in the wilderness of northern British Columbia.  Eagerly absorbed by a young boy were tales of encounters with grizzly bears, hunting, and snowy winter nights, hunkered down in their log cabin.

People have remarked that it’s sad that Mom’s death came so close to Christmas. In part that’s true. I certainly haven’t had time in the past few weeks to think much about the holiday season. But central to this time of year is the message of peace, comfort, and joy. And I’ve experienced all of those in a personal and profound way. Mom and I were surrounded at Victoria Hospice by loving and compassionate care. Her final days brought her comfort and her death was blessedly peaceful. And we had joyful moments – reminiscing about Christmases past, enjoying cups of her favorite tea from her favorite cup, and laughing at this comedy called life. One of the last things she said to me, opening her eyes briefly was, “Having fun?”

I miss her dearly. My world has changed forever. But surrounded and supported by my loving partner, friends, and colleagues I’ll carry on doing honor to those values she tried to instill in me – kindness, loyalty, grace, and a good sense of humor.

Thanks, Mom.

Encore! Life Stories and Palliative Care. When Time Is Running Out, What Do You Focus On?

At  Victoria Hospice we’re into the third year of a Life Stories  service for patients registered with Hospice.  This is a program that I initiated and continue to be involved with as  a trainer and a mentor for our Life Stories Volunteer Interviewers… Read more.

Have You Written Your Legacy Letter Yet?

“My friends, love is better than anger.
Hope is better than fear.
Optimism is better than despair.
So let us be loving, hopeful and optimistic.
And we’ll change the world.”

~ Jack Layton, (1950-2011)  MP and  Leader of the Official Opposition, Canada

These were the inspirational closing words of a farewell letter to Canadians written by Jack Layton  days before he died on August 22nd.

While  not known widely outside his native land, Layton held a special place of affection and admiration for Canadians. This could be seen in the unprecedented outpouring of sorrow during a week that culminated in his state funeral on August 27th in Toronto.

Globe and Mail columnist Sandra Martin in her article Why a farewell letter can comfort and inspire wrote:

Jack Layton wasn’t the first person to send a public deathbed letter to friends, colleagues and supporters and he won’t be the last…Memories fade or become altered with time, but a letter is a literary document that retains its original text and ensures that your words– rather than somebody else’s interpretation of them–are passed on…Writing a farewell letter, even in conjunction with others, forces you to think deeply and hard about the message you want to send and how you to express it… For mourners, the letter can become a talisman. You can carry it in your pocket, consult it when grief wallops you, and reread it like a gospel to help you make decisions in keeping with the deceased’s wishes.

Reading Martin’s article, I was reminded of the value of these “legacy” letters. Even if we’re not dying, a  legacy letter, sometimes called an ethical will, can be a source of comfort for  those who will one day be left behind. I’ve written about ethical wills in a previous article What Do Sidney Poitier and Ethical Wills Have In Common?

For those of you interested in writing your own or in teaching others to write an ethical will,  check out my free Ethical Will Course here.

Have you written your legacy letter yet?

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How Prepared Are You to Interview Terminally Ill Clients?

Life continually challenges us with the unexpected.  And only a fool would attempt to prepare for the unforeseen. It does help though to go into uncharted territory with our eyes open to potential risks.

Interviewing terminally ill people for their life stories is  satisfying, worthwhile, and often moving work. Though it does come with precautions. I’ve previously written about some of these in Interviews May Unlock Traumatic Stories. and 7 Essential Questions to Consider.

Now imagine yourself in the following situation.

You’re interviewing an 80-year-old woman, Rose, who lives with her daughter, Sandra. The daughter provides much of the caregiving. Rose suffers from a number of heart-related problems.

This is your third visit. The daughter tells you that she’ll be out doing errands while you spend the next hour interviewing her mother. Sandra assures you she’ll be back within the hour. It’s just you and Rose alone in the house.

About halfway through the interview Rose develops severe pains in her chest. She asks you to hurry and get her nitro pills in the kitchen. You find a tray with numerous medications but nothing labeled nitro.

Back in  the living room you  explain this to Rose. She suggests you call her daughter whose cell phone number is on a message board in the kitchen. But when you try to find the number, it’s nowhere to be found.

Rose is becoming increasingly agitated and calls out to bring the tray of medication to her in the living room. A number of questions race through your head.

  • What if she picks the wrong medication with calamitous results?
  • If something goes wrong, what should I do?
  • I’ll have to leave soon for an urgent appointment and Sandra hasn’t returned home. Should I leave anyway?

What would you do?

As a general rule, it is vitally important that as a personal historian working with a terminally ill person, you don’t begin to undertake caregiving tasks. You weren’t hired for this and indeed may put yourself and your client at risk if you step into such a role.

Having said that, you could find yourself in a situation similar to the one described with Rose. And with no one available to help, you may have to step in.

Some suggestions.

There are a range of possible responses, none totally satisfactory. But here are some suggestions:

1. If Rose is registered with a local Hospice, there may be a number you can call for just such a crisis. Someone there would have a list of her medications and be able to help you. If she isn’t registered with Hospice, then go to step 2.

2. Assuming Rose is clear mentally, bring the tray and ask her to point to the nitro pills.  Read out the name of the drug and ask if these are indeed the nitro pills. If she confirms they are, then allow her to select the bottle and  take the prescribed dose. Don’t select the bottle for her.

3. Stay by Rose’s side and monitor her progress. If she shows signs of recovery, you can breathe easy. If her condition worsens, call 911.

4. Assuming all is well, you still have an urgent appointment to keep.  Sandra, Rose’s daughter, hasn’t returned. And you feel uncomfortable leaving Rose on her own. Here’s what you might do:

  • Ask Rose if there is a neighbor who could come over and stay until Sandra returns. If there is, contact the neighbor and have that person come over.
  • If there’s no one who can come over, I’d opt to stay until Sandra returns. As urgent as your appointment may be, it is not worth risking someone’s safety. Call and re-schedule your appointment.

A final word.

One way to avoid the kind of predicament  I’ve described is to make certain that you’re never alone with a person whose health is severely compromised. Don’t allow a family caregiver to use you as a means to get out of the house. Pleasantly and firmly point out that your arrangement with your client doesn’t involve caregiving responsibilities.

I’d appreciate your responses to this scenario. Please post your thoughts in the comment box below. I promise to respond to each one.

Photo by jan van schijndel

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What Everybody Ought to Know About Life Stories and Palliative Care.

I’ve been writing about the value of life stories in palliative care since 2008. I felt it was time to assemble these articles in one place for those of you who are interested in this subject. The posts are arranged chronologically from the most recent to the oldest.

Photo by David Hsu

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From the Archives: Caution: End-of-Life Interviews May Unlock Traumatic Stories.

Caution: End-of-Life Interviews May Unlock Traumatic Stories. Previously I have written here about interviewing people who are living with a terminal illness.  There are benefits for patients  in capturing the stories of their lives and conveying special messages to loved ones, but a word of caution. It can also be a time when traumatic incidents from a person’s past can resurface. These could involve physical or sexual abuse, loss of a child, and so on. You’re not likely to encounter such stories  but it … Read More

From the Archives: News Flash! Not Everyone Wants a Life Story Told.

News Flash! Not Everyone Wants A Life Story Told. I know. I know. This isn’t news to you, right?  But I think deep down we personal historians secretly believe that if we find the right combination of price, promotion, and product, people won’t be able to resist us. Clients will be beating down our door. Wrong! Even if you give your services away for free, you still won’t get many takers. Let me explain. I initiated and have coordinated a life stories program over the past two years at Victoria … Read More

My Top 10 Posts of 2010.

In the past twelve months these are the posts that have ranked as the most popular with  readers.  If you’ve missed some of these, now’s  your chance to catch up over the holidays. Enjoy!

  1. How Much Should You Pay A Personal Historian?
  2. Your Photo Restoration Resource List.
  3. 15 Great Memoirs Written by Women.
  4. 5 Print-On-Demand Sites You’ll Want to Consider.
  5. #1 Secret to Getting More Clients.
  6. 5 Top Sites for Free Online Videography Training.
  7. How to Interview Someone Who Is Terminally Ill: Part One.
  8. How to Salvage a Damaged Audio Cassette.
  9. Warning: Using Copyright Music Without Permission Is Illegal.
  10. How to Make Your Life Story Workshop Memorable.

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How to Avoid Landmines When Producing Video Ethical Wills.

A reader recently asked, “Two people have consented to [an ethical will] but I think video taping them would be more personal for the receiving family. Can you see some possible landmines?” This was my reply.

There are several things to be cautious of when undertaking a video ethical will.

  • First ensure that your clients prefer a video rather than an audio or printed ethical will.  Some people suffering from a terminal illness don’t want their families to have a lasting image of their decline.
  • Will you have your clients speak directly to the camera or to you off screen? While speaking directly to camera can be effective for an  intimate presentation like this,  it can be intimidating for someone not used to facing a camera.
  • Preparing an ethical will requires a good deal of reflection. Your clients will need time – perhaps a week or more to fashion responses to the questions posed by an ethical will. I would suggest that, if at all possible, have them work on writing down their thoughts before actually videotaping their responses.
  • Avoid having your clients rehearse their responses. This sounds like a contradiction of my previous point but it’s not. You want people to have given sufficient thought to their ethical will but you don’t want them to become fretful about getting it “right”. This will end up producing results that are stiff and not natural.
  • Be aware that you may unlock some painful memories. How comfortable are you with sadness, tears, and anguish? Do you have a counselor you can recommend to your client should things become more than you can handle?
  • Above all don’t rush the process. It takes time.

If you’re interested in learning more about ethical wills, check out my previous articles:

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Image by Mark Chadwick

Part Two: Life Stories and Palliative Care: Your Questions Answered.

This week I continue with answers to the “burning questions” that  participants asked in my workshop, Life Stories as Healing, at the Association of Personal Historians conference. You can read more questions and answers in Part One here.

What event or events in your life made you decide to do this work?

I find it’s often difficult to determine at what point an idea begins to germinate. I know that when I was thirty-two, a dear friend died in a car crash. I had seen her just the day before. She was a vibrant and compassionate individual and then she was gone. From that moment I knew that “death” was a companion on my journey.

However, it wasn’t until two decades later as a documentary filmmaker that I shot, directed, and edited a series for the National Film Board of Canada, entitled Bearing Witness. It followed three individuals who were living with a terminal illness.

As part of my research for that series I spent time at Victoria Hospice talking to nurses, counselors, doctors, and volunteers. I admired and I liked these people. I decided that once I had completed the series, I wanted to become a Victoria Hospice volunteer. In 2005 I completed my training and I’ve been working there ever since.

If you have only weeks to capture the essence of a patient’s life, do you invite the family to finish telling the story?

So far most of the patients who agree to our Life Stories interviews have only weeks to live. If we have six or seven weeks, we can usually record up to five hours of a person’s life story. If it looks as if time is running out, we may skip to topics that the patient feels are crucial.

The Life Stories interviewer always works with a patient to determine what that patient wishes to record. In some cases it’s a personal history from birth to the present. For others it might be a Legacy Letter or Ethical Will. It varies.

We haven’t  invited family members to complete a life story. They are usually too emotionally exhausted to consider such a request.

What do you do if you as the interviewer begin to cry?

As an interviewer I’m a human beings with feelings. The stories I hear have moments that are sad and I feel sad. I try to keep in mind that this is my subject’s story. It is not about me. I don’t want to start crying and have the attention shift from my subject to me.

There are times when what I hear  makes my eyes moisten and I express my sorrow at my subject’s plight. But I keep some reserve in that moment. I save the tears for later when I’m home and can receive the support I need from my partner.

Should one raise or not raise the issue of death?

I wish I could say that there’s one rule fits all but so much depends on your subject and the rapport you’ve established. Some patients want to talk about facing death and others don’t. What is important is to judge how comfortable you yourself are with death and talking about it.

I have asked some of my palliative care clients what they fear about death and in most cases they are quite open and honest with their reply. We need not shy away from talking about death but we must be sensitive to the needs of our clients.

Are men reluctant to discuss emotional issues? If they are, should the interviewer draw them out or respect their reluctance?

Male aversion to emotional issues is something of a generality and quite often true from my experience. Men prefer to talk about what they’ve done and where they’ve been than get into “messy” emotional stuff – not all men but a good number. In fairness though, to be facing your imminent death is tough and raises all kinds of feelings – anger, fear, grief, and panic. I’ve had some men and women who’ve made it clear to me that the only way they can get through the interviews is by avoiding highly charged subject matter. I respect their wishes.

When shown respect and compassion it is not uncommon for men to go from a reluctance to talking about emotional matters to being quite open about their feelings. A word of caution. As personal historians we are not  therapists. It’s not our role to make people feel better. That’s for the professional counselor. In fact we all need the names of several counselors we can refer our clients to, should the need arise.

Has pain on the part of a patient in palliative care interfered with your ability to help a person to tell their story?

For the most part pain is usually managed reasonably well  by the time we start to work with a patient. However, there are other issues that can make it hard to record a person’s story.  People can become drowsy or at times muddled from the effects of their disease and medication. There can be bouts of nausea. Overwhelming fatigue can render people speechless. In these circumstances we wait until the patient has recovered sufficiently to continue. Sadly, in some cases, there is no recovery and the patient’s story remains incomplete.

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Photo by Derrick Tyson