Its been 5 months since my dad passed away. But I still feel horribly guilty about his death. Almost three years after his stroke, he died in hospital. I feel responsible for his death. I feel like I killed him. I lived at home with him and was in charge of all his care. His meds, his doctor appointments, his food, his daily care, paying all the bills, maintaining the house. I tried to be the hero and do it all. The last year of his life was the toughest, he was getting angry, no pills, no to food, no showers. I just gave up and didn't even tell the doctor about these changes. I thought I would let him be and just make him comfortable. But it was horrible mistake, his heart gave out on him and he had a series of heart attacks. I realize I did not manage his care as well as I should have otherwise he would still be alive. My siblings don't blame me and even tell me I did the best I could. But in my heart I don't believe it. And I don't know if I will ever forgive myself.
My mother (85) is refusing all logical things like in home help, doctor visits, meds, daily showers... and she has told us regularly that she is 'done', wants to be with dad....
I get that. I really do. In the meantime, we do the best we can to honor her wishes and keep her as comfortable as possible.
I didn't do that with my Mom, as she was stubborn and had refused caregiving help. Sadly she created her own fate which ended with a terrible fall.
But I did do that with my Dad, as he was a kind soul, so easy to get along with, everyone who cared for him loved him. But I still go through the what ifs because he passed so quickly. Like, why didn't I have that cough of his checked out? Maybe he would still be here today.
I have to tell myself, Dad's cough, which turned out to be aspiration, professionals at Memory Care and his private caregiver would have noticed and said something. So they weren't worried about it, so I shouldn't be beating myself up over this. His passing was peaceful and he so wanted to be with my late Mom... they had been married for over 70 years.
Thank you for your kind, compassionate and thoughtful replies. I am grateful. I'm going to try to do as you all said. With hugs to all.
My 96 year old great aunt, whose constitution was virtually perfect, mentioned lightly to me that she had "legs like rugby players'" and I pleasantly shrugged it off as though she'd been being self-deprecating, and how touching that a lady of her age should be concerned about her appearance. What she meant, I realised too late, was that she had oedema in both legs, and I knew that her GP was a useless waste of space and wouldn't have examined her (he was great at holding hands and giving her "harmless" prescriptions for things she didn't really need, just to be seen to be doing something besides turning up for his fee). Before this, she'd been living independently, with a caregiver twice a week to help with baths. Not long after, ulcers, pain, immobility, weakness, a fall and fractured pelvis, admission to hospital... I did a lot of fast talking and got her out of hospital in the end, but she never got to go home. And all I had to do was LOOK, and I didn't, and it was the beginning of the end. She'd be 112 now. And do you know, I wouldn't completely put it past her to have made it...?
My dad, aged 71, was waiting for a cardiology appointment. My mother was constantly annoyed with him because he hadn't stopped drinking, and got dizzy, and it was all his own fault. The "drinking" was half a pint of beer, socially, with his friends. He rode a motorbike, he didn't ever have "one for the road." The getting dizzy, which again I knew - I KNEW. I just didn't THINK - was nothing to do with being half-cut. It was TIA's. And that meant clots. And that meant he couldn't wait for an appointment, he needed to be seen. He dropped dead on a squash court, lethal heart attack, and we all said it was out of the blue, but the truth is it wasn't out of the blue, and all one of us had to do was speak up and get assertive about it, and nobody did.
Hindsight is not always a wonderful thing. Sometimes it is torment.
Are you a cardiologist, or a stroke specialist, or a geriatrician? Are you even an experienced nurse or general practitioner? No. So, what standard of care are you holding yourself to, exactly? Try to be fair.
Suppose we, you and I, had done our duty as meticulously as we wish we had. Where would our loved ones be now? What kind of lives would they be leading? Would it really have been best for them if we'd kept them going, or is it just ourselves we want to save, from feeling guilty? The most loving thing you can do for a person isn't always to intervene.