I have learnt a new word today: the Death Doula. I discovered it in an online magazine I read called Artnet News about an American artist called Every Ocean Hughes who was trained as a death doula and does strange photo-montages to suggest death and rebirth. An alternative name was Death Midwife, but the midwives' organisations objected as they claim the word midwife is reserved for their own work as birth midwives. I thought the term must be some weird Americanism, but it is defined on the Marie Curie website from an ancient Greek word as someone who supports people at the end of their life, often focusing on the emotional, psychological and spiritual side of dying, as well as the more practical things.
On Tuesday I was visited by my own death doula: a nurse from St Nicolas Hospice called Nicola who explored my life with Ann and wanted to know every bit of support available to us, including details of each of our children and our relationships to them. Her practical questions included asking "where do you want to die?" and "Do you want to be rescusitated?" Perhaps they'll pin DNR notices to my chest to let everyone know. We have a battle ahead, and I am reminded of some words of Chesterton:
But she did suggest several practical ways to ease my leg pain and end of life care, including getting a scan of the leg and possible radiotherapy to reduce the bone metastasis and thigh pain, which is severe when it strikes in the night. She also suggested anaesthetic patches to put on at night, and arranged their collection from our local pharmacy. Very efficiently, they were ready today so tonight I'll give them a try. The bone errosion leaves the femur even weaker than the weakness induced by age, so she reinforced the care we older ones must take not to fall and risk a fracture.
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