I watched my Mother die in agony from lung cancer
My Mother was only 60 years old when she was diagnosed with lung cancer. The doctor gave her "5 days to 5 weeks" to live. My brother and sister and I volunteered to alternate the days and nights one of us would be at her bedside. One Saturday night, while I was there, she woke up in the early morning and said she couldn't breathe. I immediately called the nurses in. About 5 of them came in while my Mother was trying to take a breath. She couldn't breathe at all, however. The nurses had to hold her down as she flailed about, panic filling her face. She soiled herself at this point. One of the nurses kept telling her to "Just let it happen. Just let it happen." I stood there, immobilized, and one of the nurses told me I didn't have to be there. But I couldn't leave. I didn't want my Mother's last vision of me to be me walking out the door on her.
They gave her a sedative that stopped her flailing. They cleaned her up and laid her on her back in the bed. My Mother was still in pain, however, and her howls of pain could be heard all down the hallway of the hospital. I begged them to do something. They said they were trying to get Morphine for her. I asked what was taking so long. They said the doctor in charge that night had to call my Mom's doctor at home, wake him up, and get permission for Morphine to be delivered. My Mother is frothing at the mouth, paralyzed by whatever medicine they gave her and moaning like a banshee. It took over 45 minutes before the doctor got permission to use Morphine on her.
She lingered for two days, zombie-like, moaning loudly and unintelligibly when the pain was back, which prompted another round of trying to get her the morphine she needed. She was in misery. It was all I could do to not put a pillow over her face and end her agony. I asked the nurses why they couldn't give her something that would just help her die - but that was strictly against the law. Her fingernails turned blue at the end. She would vomit in her mouth and the nurses would have to turn her head to pour it out.
She was fully aware of her pain and increasingly unable to let us know when she needed more. Finally, with a long painful wail, she was gone.
She died in the most undignified way one can imagine. I have never thought of hospitals as places of care since.
I would have welcomed Dr. Kervorkian's assistance for a more dignified end to my Mother's beautiful life. My memories of her are tainted by those last few days spent in agony and despair.