Death

Watching my mother die is more difficult than I had imagined, even accounting for the fact that I expected it to be more difficult than I imagined. I get rushes of emotion at random times, talking to nurses, doctors and social workers. It's completely uncontrollable when it happens.

Why do we cry? A quick google search is unenlightening. The top hit is a page of pseudo-scientific BS about how tears rid the body of some hormone and mineral that make us depressed. My suspicion is that it's a social thing - a cue to whoever we're with that we need comfort and gentle handling. Like Ekman's micro-expressions, only macro.

Death is ugly, even when it's peaceful. My mother is really dying of starvation now. She stopped eating a while ago, and just sips water through a straw. Her eyes are closed most of the time, though she's half awake.

I watched a close friend die of cancer last year loaded to the gills with morphine at the end. The current practice of pain management is clearly the humane thing to do, but the narcotics involved leave the patient confused, if not comatose, robbing the family and friends of contact during the last stages. I haven't seen this aspect of end-stage treatment mentioned in all the discussions about palliative care. Maybe it shouldn't be - it's a little selfish to want someone to be alert and uncomfortable rather than peaceful and asleep. But I can't help it. I want contact.

PS...
I think an unspoken aspect of the use of heavy doses of narcotics is their side effect of suppressing the breathing reflex. In an already weakened body, this can't help but hasten things along. Not that that's a bad thing... I hope when my time comes I'll get the heavy dose of morphine too. Or maybe just a pillow over the face. It would be more merciful than what I'm witnessing at the moment.

Or maybe I'm wrong about all of this: the dying person would be just as sleepy, confused and disconnected without the narcotics, but also in pain.