Death stories?

I haven't heard of the 3men/boys but I have patients in a nursing home that report of a little boy that visits as the clients are near death. It is amazing how they all describe him exactly the same way. We are talking about patients with a hsitory of Dementia. There is some story about an Indian Reservation nearby and the little boy walks around asking for food. The patients will keep food at the bedside for his return. They say they are not scared and actually have a smile when they talk about him. The staff report that the automatic front door will open periodically without anyone nearby.
I have spoken to a daughter about the otherside and how it can be hard to understand if you don't believe. She told me her son was coming in from England that night and was unsure to tell her mother. The next day she sat at her mothers bedside while her mother raised her hand to the ceiling. She thought maybe her Mom was seeing someone and felt this was the time to tell her the grandson was flying home...but he missed the flight...the mother turned to her and said...."I know".
When the grandson arrived...she died that night.

OK, I know most of these stories are of the moving/sweet/awe inspiring kind, but I want to share a funny story.

We had a pt with metastatic breast CA. Bone and brain mets. She had been on our in-pt hospice/palliative care unit a few times: for rehab after a pathological fracture, for another complication. This time, she was here to die.

A dear friend (and one tough cookie) spent most of the time with her -- slept in the room, kept her company, kept her spirits up, etc.

One night, in the wee hours of the morning, C wakes up and says to her friend (understand, C was a lesbian, but she and R had never been lovers) "I want to make love RIGHT NOW!" R's response? "Now C, you know neither of us are morning people."

Ah, the healing power of laughter, even in the roughest of times.

These stories are very interesting and I appreciate your sharing with us. I have been a Hospice nurse for 8 years and have many stories, but there was one story that was very different. I was called by the PCC to go attend the death of a patient since his nurse was off that day. When I arrived I assessed him and made the necessary calls and then his wife and their son told me this story. The son had come into the father's room in the morning and found him to be awake and wanting to talk. The son said " I'm glad you're still with us, you were so near to death yesterday". The patient said "I left yesterday but I had some things I need to tell you". He asked his son to get a paper and pencil and to write down everything he told him. The man proceded to tell him that he wanted the funeral to be held on Sunday ( this was on a Friday), told him what he wanted to be buried in, who he wanted to perform the ceremony, etc. THen he asked his son if he had written all of that down, the son replied yes and the man died. Both the son and wife confirmed the story, but I thought it was the strangest in my years of Hospice.

[quote=CCL"Babe";2239171]

The morning she died, my mother in law had the family priest come pray to St. Theresa to let her die. ( There is a story that St Theresa lets you know she has heard your prayer by sending roses in some way) quote]

The day my father died, he was given the sacrament and the priest left. I was praying by the bedside when I had the strangest feeling that my grandmother was there with us, although she had died years before. I got up, laid on the bed beside Dad and put my crucifix in his hands and carried on praying. I told him that it was ok, that Gran had come to take him home...he died very shortly afterwards, peacefully and without sign of pain or distress. I later received three sympathy cards with these words...





Perhaps these were the roses from St Theresa?

That's a beautiful poem and a lovely personal story. Thanks for sharing it.

Im currently an STNA in Ohio and a couple months ago, my great grandmother passed away. This was right before I got my first job. The nursing staff and doctors told us we had about 2 days with her and she would probably pass, so a few of the grandkids and others stayed with her and helped her and so fourth. When grandma was healthy years ago, she ALWAYS was trying to feed the family. Anytime family came to her house, she wanted to feed them. She loved to make homemade noodles, and fry hamburgers, make soups... etc. She just loved making everyone stuffed. Well even in the nursing home, she wanted to feed us. Needless to say, she was a bit "out of it" with all the meds, but it was kindof comical. She would ask my uncle to "go get some hamburger so she could fry some hamburgers for everyone". We all told her we "already ate" so she wouldnt worry about us, but she INSISTED we go get some food. She even wanted my uncle to get her purse so she could give him some money for the hamburger. Then she insisted that we get her purse so that we could make a donation to the LTC facility! She was just sooo sweet. She wanted to make her donation and "get out of there". She wanted to go home, but she wanted to make sure the nursing home was payed first. I think "home" meant more than "home" at that point. Im now working at that same nursing home, and I cant wait to "donate" my love to those like her...

My father was diagnosed in April with lung CA with mets to the bone. By the end of May he started to complain of the pain (I think that the pain was present for quite some time but never complained (which was very rare for him)). He went into the hospital on May 24 and he passed on June 17. The day before he passed he was brought into hospice and was on a steady dosage of morphine. He was totally out of it (glassy stare) but that first night he woke up and spoke to my sister. He told her that he loved her and asked for something to drink. He told me a couple of days before this that he loved me. He always had a love/hate relationship with my mother. I think that deep down he blamed my mother for his financial problems (she may have been a component but he was an equal partner). During this time my mother was very attentive but at times she took the bulk of his aggressive behavior. I do not think that during this time he ever told my mother that he loved her. I do believe that he loved her but I think that he believed that she put him in the hospital/rehab and he did not want to be there.

By the next day the glassy stare was back and his breathing was better during the day. When I went back that night his breathing was very labored. My sister left the room to talk to her son. My mother and I were talking when she jumped up and said he stopped breathing. By the time I looked up he was breathing again. When it happened again I went and got the nurse who said that it was normal since he was at the end. My mother and I were holding his hands when it happened again. At this point my mother went to get my sister. Every time his breathing stopped we held out breathe. After a couple of minutes I went to see my nephew (less than 10 minutes). When I went back he had passed.

It was very peaceful - the nurse gave us time to spend with him after he passed. We were so glad that we were there since our biggest fear was getting the call at night. It happened so fast - less than 2 months after diagnosis and 3 weeks after he started to go downhill.

I'm not a hospice nurse, but I worked in a unit that often had to deal with end of life issues.

One 12-year-old boy had been in the hospital for WEEKS. He was waiting for a liver transplant, and was high on the list since he was going into liver failure. He and his family were a joy to have and his parents spoiled him rotten during the hospital stay, though they were having difficulty realizing that he might die before he got a transplant. His Mom was constantly saying positive things like, "Today is going to be the day you get your transplant." She was desperately trying not to give up hope.

Eventually it came a time to discuss a DNR. He was in organ failure, and even too sick to survive the operation. Though the parents refused to give up hope, you could tell the boy knew he was going to die.

The last night I had him as a pt. I had walked into the room and saw the mom crying by his bed, and he was asleep. Before I could begin talking to her she told me her son had woken up and said to her, "Mom, I am not going to get a new liver. You need to let me go. I'll be OK."

He died 4 hours later.

bumping an excellent thread.

My mother was a hospice pt. One day she told me that; "it would be over in 5 days"... she died 5 days later.

One of my pts in the hospital had lung ca. He had a trach in and couldn't speak or hardly move, so communication was difficult. When he was conscious he always looked frightened and worried. One day I went to check on him and he was looking up at the ceiling back and forth like he was trailing something and grinning. He seemed happy and relaxed. I had never seen him look that way before. You guessed it... shortly after he died.

My scientific mind tells me that there are chemical changes going on in our brains at the time of death than can alter thought processes. But my spiritual mind tells me there is also something more.