The first time I ever listened to a terminally ill person talk about their dying, I had to hold the chair with both hands to keep from running from the room. I had never allowed myself to get caught in that position. I was a minister, but like so many of my colleagues, I sort of stood by the hospital room door and threw some scriptures and a prayer in and hurried from the room. 

One day a woman said, "I don't think I am going to make it." And I asked if she wanted to talk about it and she did. I grabbed the chair and experienced one of those life changing moments. Since that time, some of the most meaningful experiences of my life have come from allowing people to talk with me about their death. I have learned some valuable things in the process.

I have learned that people really do want to talk about their death. If the opportunity happens and the door is opened they will welcome the chance to share their feelings, their fears, and their hopes. If no one hears them they die alone even if the room is full. When I realize how many people die alone and unheard because of our fears and superstitions about death it makes me want to weep.

I have learned they will choose the persons they wish to speak with. We dare not barge in or try to blast them open. We must wait for cues. Dying people rarely just come out and say they are dying and want to talk. They will hint at the edges of the subject and wait for us to respond. If you are the one they wish to talk to they will begin to say such things as they don't think they are going to make it and wait to see if you respond with "Oh yes you will, you are looking better," or if you have the courage to ask if they want to talk about it. 

I have learned they want honesty. I walked with a man named Bob through the year of his death. I became the only person he wanted to talk with. One day he explained why he kept asking for me to come to see him. He said, "you are the only one who will be honest with me. When I say I am not doing well, everyone else argues with me and tells me I look better. You agree that I am not looking well and seem comfortable talking about it openly and honestly." When I asked him how it felt when friends tried to deny and cheer him up he said, "It feels lonely, like no one else is in this with me."

Bob, and most of the others I have walked with, did not know how to ask for this kind of honesty. He would ask questions that sounded like he wanted a time table for when he was going to die. He asked the doctor "How long do I have?" and the doctor would go into his speech about no one can predict and Bob would seethe. He really did not want a schedule, what he wanted was some idea of what was next. We would talk about the stages he was going to face. He would ask me where I thought he was in the journey and how could he tell when he was getting close. As strange as it may seem, when I tell people that I will know when they are close and will tell them they seem relieved and can't thank me enough. 

I have leaned that knowing we are going to die does not hasten our death. For too long families have tried to keep loved ones from knowing they are dying for fear they would just give up and die on the spot. People who are dying know they are without our telling them. Then they must play the game of not knowing so we can be comfortable acting like we don't know and they die alone. In future blogs I will share some of the stories of the folks I have had the honor of walking with as they lay dying. I hope some of you will share your stories as well.

__________

Doug invites you to log in and post comments at the end of each blog entry. He looks forward to hearing from you.