If you’ve been following this Thanatology series, you’ve been learning about Thanatology, the science of dying and death. Today we will be looking at the psychological aspects of dying and death, and how folks trained in this field can help others. In researching this subcategory, I learned about people receiving a terminal diagnosis or a test indicating a life-ending illness being assisted by those trained in the psychological aspects of death and dying. News like this affects not only the patient but also the family and the caregivers, and I would think the medical personnel as well, as they are helping patients through what could be a very difficult time. The very compassion we rely on in our caregivers may lead to seeking psychological care for themselves, or at least a safe outlet for the emotions that arise in their course of caregiving.
In my podcast episode titled, Thanatology-Psychological, I shared a little of my story. I wasn’t sure I should share, but I am learning that being personal is the best way to get a point across as well as build relationship.
Psychologists help people in so many areas of life, and when faced with our own death or the death of a loved one, these professionals can provide opportunities for us to look inward, look deeper, look at ourselves, look around at those we love, those we care about, and those caring for us during tough times such as end of life.
We count on professionals who have studied and trained and share their expertise to walk with us when we receive that diagnosis, or the results of that test, revealing life-changing details about our future. Yes, intellectually we understand we will die someday, but “some day” is some cloudy futuristic orb that has no definition—yet. When I took a test after having worrisome symptoms, the Future became Now. I wasn’t ready for that. I had way too much to do, to share with my kids, to teach and share with them. I didn’t know what I wanted at the end of my life. I taught so many people the importance of the Advanced Directive, explained the end-of-life interventions taken in emergency departments, and discussed questions like, what do I want on my headstone, or do I want cremation or burial? I had answers to some of them, but not the ones that mattered once I received the results of the tests I had undergone to check out those symptoms. I-was-not-ready!
After three tense days, I received a negative result. A second chance to have the Good Death! What is that, you ask? As I explore death and dying more deeply, I have come to understand the Good Death to be one where I know my choices, I have shared them with those I love, and I have made decisions for my end of life and documented them, so there are no questions my loved ones have to ask when they are grieving or worried about my health.
So, what did I do after I received this second chance? I doubled down on the conversations I encouraged others to have, I researched and considered my own Good Death and did not hesitate to share what I had decided. Now, when a thought I want to share comes into my head, I share it with my family so they can shut down accounts and such, but also so they are aware of my wishes. In my mind, this helps create assurance they are carrying out my desires for my end life, and makes the business part of dying a little easier on them. Relationships are so important to me, and to not let the ones I love and care about most in on these thoughts would defy the love I feel for my loved ones. How could I claim to love these people and not be willing to share my most important decisions?
I am not saying this to make you feel badly if you haven’t had these thoughts or conversations, or if you are not ready to even entertain the idea of your own death. It’s okay. If you’re reading this, it’s not too late to write something down, to start a record of your idea of your Good Death, or to talk with someone you trust. Believe me when I say that I did not choose to be someone who enjoys talking about dying and death: it is still a big, sad, upsetting part of life for me. I don’t run away from sadness but I can shy away from hard conversations. Additionally, I have learned that I also enjoy pushing myself, whether at the gym or in learning a new technology or reading scholarly articles. Maybe it’s my age; I don’t know for sure. Maybe it’s because I have seen several people at the end of their life and walked with folks who were very ill. Maybe it’s because I said ‘yes’ when a friend needed a companion to attend her first Death Café. I had no idea I was starting on this path, but I now can have such discussions with whomever wishes to engage. What path will you put yourself on when you make your decision to push yourself? You just might bring a trusting, loving relationship into a zone you never expected because you decided to dive deep into what you fear. And maybe, just maybe, your fear will be a little less with each conversation.
I’d love to hear about it.