How Millions of Dementia Patients Can Avoid
Unnecessary Suffering at the End of Life
By Rebecca Moss
One day in April 2004 my husband of 45 years, L. Howard Moss, III, laid down for a nap, woke up, did not know who I was, and never knew again.
By Rebecca Moss
One day in April 2004 my husband of 45 years, L. Howard Moss, III, laid down for a nap, woke up, did not know who I was, and never knew again.
This
was our abrupt entrance into the world of dementia. Not Alzheimer's, with its
slow development; dementia of a different cause, but the eventual progression
was the same. The neurologists could advise us only that he would never regain
what was lost.
I
became a caregiver in an instant and threw myself into providing him all the
warmth and safety and bits of happiness I could, and at first, he could manage
simple self-care tasks.
However, my highly educated scientist husband not only did not know his wife and family -- this condition is called "Capgras syndrome" -- but he had also lost what are called "higher functions." In other words, he was unable to understand even simple things, such as how to make a telephone call or turn on a radio.
Even
in his illness, he put forth the "mask of sanity" we humans use to
face others; he was docile and cooperative, but I slowly came to realize how he
suffered, not knowing and unable to learn who the people around him were and
their intentions toward him.
I
was able to caregive for four years as his abilities declined, but when I could
no longer meet his needs I was forced to place him in a facility which cared
only for dementia patients. And for four more years, I observed almost daily
what he and the other patients experienced on their descents to eventual death.
A
psychiatrist rendered his pharmacologic services, attempting to soften the
anxieties and confusions and terrors that each faced, some quietly, some
hostilely and aggressively. The intentions of the staff were kindly, but
everything possible was done to prolong this existence, which I came to think
of as "pseudo-life." And I came to a horrific realization.
As
a retired physician, I would not have thought that there was a worse fate than
painful terminal cancer, or end-stages of multiple sclerosis or ALS. But now I
know better. Nearly 15 million people provide unpaid care for Alzheimer's or
other dementias and about 60 percent of the caregivers are women, according to
the Alzheimer's Association.
As
a result of my husband's nightmare experience, I learned that you can add a
dementia provision to your advance directive or living will to help to avoid
the kind of unnecessary suffering that he endured at the end of life.
Most
advance directives become operative only when a person is unable to make health
care decisions and is either permanently unconscious or terminally ill; there
usually is no provision that applies to a person who suffers from severe
dementia, but is neither unconscious nor dying.
The
dementia provision specifies what life-sustaining treatment, food or fluids you
want -- or do not want -- to receive if you encounter the onset of severe
dementia. (You can get a free sample dementia provision by calling 800.247.7421
or visiting: www.compassionandchoices.org.)
Our
society is slowly recognizing that when death is inevitable, it is only humane
to allow a choice to end the suffering if the person desires it. God and nature
have decreed that we are mortal; we can only honor life by preventing the
suffering of the weakest among us, for whom death is inevitable.
Moss, M.D., lives in Sanibel Island, FL and is a
supporter of Compassion & Choices, the nation's leading end-of-life choice
advocacy organization.