How do you get over the trauma of watching someone when they die?

I would like to share a couple of things with you and I hope they help you.
1) Grief is not a sign of weakness nor a lack of faith. It is the price of love.
2)The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit. Psalm 34:18

I experienced that Monday night at Golden Living with My Mamaw who was 89. She had Alzheimer's and was in a nursing home for like 4 years. The family was there. Most of them,at least. I sat in the chair facing the bed and watched her take her last breath. It seems unreal still to me. She had stopped eating last week as far as I know. and they had given her morphine and had changed her to a hospital gown. I sang part of Love Me Today by Matthew and Gunnar Nelson to her. The part of When I feel it's time to go,I'll be on my way. I guess she was waiting for my aunt Debbie to come in. She died when Debbie came in the room or shortly after. It is traumatic. I'm trying to come to grips with it 2 days later. I know it will take longer. I'm not sure what's worse,Watching it happen or finding out about it over the phone. Either way is pretty heartbreaking to me.

I recently was part of a three-person team of family who made the agonizing decision to take my father-in-law off of life support. He was a strong, handsome, virile, robust man of 80 and walked into the hospital with pneumonia and never left. My husband and I are both only children and my mother-in-law was an emotional wreck. There were no other siblings to confer with (read: share burden with), he wasn't my father and I knew, at the time, I was the one who was, by default, who would be looked at as the most objective. I agreed 100% with my MIL and husband's decision, but now, a month later, i find myself quieter, either unable to sleep or sleeping a lot, unmotivated to do anything...even cook, although I do, uninterested in doing anything. I am professor and have this summer "off" so thank God I don't have to show up for work, but maybe that too is unhealthy. I think human beings have a sympathy quotient and I am seeing the eyes of my loved ones glaze over when I try to talk with them about this. It is frightening to most, I understand: raw and ugly, but I am scared I will never recover. I am 30 years sober, so taking a diazopen or "a glass of wine before bed" is not an option for me. I admit I did smoke some pot recently (after over 30 years; pot never worked even when I wasn't sober) and had a MASSIVE anxiety attack, so that's out. I am 57 and think to myself that I somehow should "know" how to do this grief thing, but I am absolutely devastated as is my husband who is chipping away recently on drugs to "get him through." It's so messed up. I feel lonely, angry, lethargic, afraid.

NCGal, I was very interested to learn that the trappings of mourning in previous eras were more about announcing the state of the wearer than about respect for the dead. The black armband or dress said, "Be patient with me. I have recently lost someone important in my life and I am a little fragile."

We don't wear outward signs of our bereavement and somehow we seem to also have lost the concept of a period of mourning, or of being fragile. Your husband's father died a month ago. You had to participate in end-of-life decisions. It was a very traumatic event. Of course you aren't your normal self! Be gentle with you.

It sounds like it might help you to talk about your feelings. Why not hook up with some grief counseling and see if that helps you?

I, too, was scared I'd never recover. Not true. We each go through the process in our own ways. It takes however long it takes. But recovery is the norm.

Thank you, Jeanne. An armband or may a T-shirt that says a much! LOL. I am, as of now, committed to getting some professional help. I am in contact with a person in Charlotte and will be seeing her next week. Thank you so much for your quick response. I have learned through my recovery that writing, talking, and reaching out (and regular meeting attendance) are the ticket to wellness. Oh...and I pray, A LOT! Thank you for your last sentence...I forgot that simple truth. Golden.

soloinny, your story is heartbreaking! Your dad's words will echo in your mind forever, but I hope that they can gradually become more bearable. Most of us have a few similar times rattling around in our heads. They come back and haunt us at odd times. But understanding your dad's dementia and where he was there should help some, as will time. I hope that you are healing. Please do get some help from a grief counselor if you continue to have problems with this that take over too much of your life.

We're with you in your pain the best that we can be,
Carol

My husband had been battling aggressive prostate cancer for 5+ years, when he passed away this past October. I was with him, but I don't know that I could say I was traumatized. He had been in the hospital for 5 days for edema, and on the 5th day we were told he had to be transferred to hospice. My husband had not complained of pain, had been able to be propped up in bed, and was able to say a few sentences or ask a few questions although his pleural effusion caused fluids to build up around his lungs so that he was constantly short of breath. The hospice decided, without discussing it with my husband or me, to give him Roxanol inside his cheek. He had still not seemed to be in any discomfort, although the hospital doctor had told me "He's suffering" earlier in the week. Within less than 30 mins. my husband had glazed over eyes which were staring at the ceiling and his mouth was half open. He looked like he had had a stroke. During the night his situation declined, and by the next morning at 8 AM, the nurse woke me up and said, "You need to get up, it could be any minute." What a shock, after I came to my senses and remembered where I was. No one had told us his death was "immenent". As he declined during the night, no one woke me up and explained he was in "active dying". I was still in such shock watching him take long breaths, then pause, almost like he did with his sleep apnea. He did this for a little over 2 hours. He didn't speak, but he continued to have a pasty appearance. His body was wrapped up tightly with sheets, but I was still afraid of touching him. As his breaths became slower and further apart, the nurse told me that he probably was already unconscience. This may or may not help the young lady asking about the trauma of seeing death taking place. It certainly wasn't a pleasant occurrence, and if I had not been in the state of shock as I was, it would have made more of an impact on me. When he was admitted at the beginning of the week to the hospital, never did I think that was the end, and that I would witness the first death in my life. Does anyone have more info or an explanation as to why my husband was given Roxanol, as no one explained the reason for receiving it, and no one warned me that we were at the end, and no one prepared me for his passing away so quickly. I can't understand what all happened, and why I remain in the dark even 9 months after his death. It would be helpful to know some answers to my "Why's". Thank you so much.

I'm going through grieving process now and watched my mom die two weeks ago , watching her gag and try to get a breath in is horrible , I did not want to watch her die but it was meant to be , it will be burned in my mind forever and i don't want to ever go through that again, she was sick for a month but struggled for a long time not being able to walk, I'm releived shes out of her suffering now i have to deal with a horrible sister and brother who did nothing for her for years and i was her caregiver for 20yrs , they want things of hers but didn't care for her, greed has no conscious.

Get over the trauma? It takes time, but if you know your loved one is with other deceased loved ones he/she loved in life, it makes it much easier. There is also the fact that you won't have to deal with the medical staff that cared for your loved one again, though they would have taken care of that, by "forgetting" you as soon as your loved one passed.

All of your situations are complex and a lot is happening with you and the others commenting, in too short period of time. Watching someone die is awful. I was not prepared for my 98+ yo mother to die, though she had suffered a CVA, she was recovering in my home for 1.5 yrs and I planned for her to return home with assistance eventually. However, while my mother was "unexpectedly" dying, I yelled at my mother the entire time. Still suffering some aphasia, I thought that she was upset over something but could not express it so I refused to hold her hand as she reached for me until she would take a deeper breath-her O2 sat was only 83%. However, my husband held her hand until the end. When I realized that "something" was really wrong, I performed ACLS-CPR for 40 minutes until paramedics arrived and her pupils fixed. And so I deal with the stress of "guilt" and missing her terribly..everyday..but I keep her Facebook Page active with all of her and my friends and make videos, transfer actual video recordings of Frances C. to her FB page. Maybe this is therapy for me but it is calming for moments at a time... displaying her art writings and watching a video of her playing the piano over and over on YouTube, being interviewed in various locations, and just listening to her talk and seeing her so happy in life. I am not experienced with all of your multiple situations but since May, 2014, I simply exist. You are all really great people I guess time will heal and that everyone finds some means of relief from feeling that sickening sense of loss for an hour, a day or a week or more. I think that recently I had an almost an entire week of being content until I realized that I had jot thought about or visited Mom's page, etc. Bless you all for what you have provided for your loved one's!!! I don't know if this link will work for you but.. it makes me happy to watch it over and over and over. I wish you all peace and happiness...Maybe something similar could make you feel better?

bichons9

Thank you.

A valuable thread to relate to. However, before anyone tries writing here, understand that the post is six years old. It just popped up.

After reading some of these comments, I maybe should contact hospice just to talk...but, in my mind I think that I should know how to 'fix it' since that is what I do, I 'fix' things for people, that's how I help is by fixing whatever is wrong...well, now this time it's ME who probably needs a little 'fixing' and I think I will go talk with them...I know in my heart and mind that I will miss and grieve the loss of Dad, but what I'm still feeling aside from that is what I think I shouldn't still be having....I hope that makes sense but if it doesn't as least it makes sense to me. Yes, I will probably go talk with them especially the 2 people who I met 2 nights before Dad passed. I feel I connected with them and vice versa...that is what they do and they do it so well.

Dear Lilrarabbit,

I can identify with what you are writing. I too am normally the person that fixes things. But seeing my dad a couple of hours before his death has been very hard to process for me. Everyone has tried to give me the right words, very comforting words even, but I still can't seem to wrap my head around what I saw and the finality of my dad's death. I too am trying to get my more help through reading, counseling, support groups, whatever it takes. Take care and please let us know how are you doing.

I saw the word 'disconnected' in a few of these comments and that's EXACTLY how I felt for a few months after Dad passed...even some days now but not as often....from time to time I started to even remember enjoyable things I used to like to do...read a book, craft, take a drive to the park, a quiet walk by myself...even aimlessly browsing in a store...I had been taking care of both Dad and Mom and now that Dad has passed it unfortunately has opened up a little window of free time for me....I'm even starting to look for different recipes, and redecorating parts of the house....I still take care of Mom more and more as her Alzheimers is progressing but I am still now able to find a little 'me' time....and I don't even feel guilty about it.... I put in a solid 5 yrs of care for both of them at the same time and I need to catch up on me... I even find myself laughing a little more and joking around...my husband and son are glad to see it too.....

Grief is a strang creature and not one you can prepare for. You can learn all you can about the stages of grieving but it is never enough and the stages vary for each person. Some actually get stuck in a stage and never move on.
Watching someone die is a very dramatic experience for most even if you are expecting it. I don't know if it would help or not but I feel knowing what to expect in different circumstances might help.
If possible having something to do to help rather than sitting by the bed waiting for the inevitable afraid to touch your loved one in case you do something wrong. Little things help so much, moistening the lips, applying lip balm, putting a cool washcloth onto a hot brow. When the awful bubbling in the chest happens, and it does not always often turning the patient on their side lessens it. There are also meds that can be given to dry up secretions. Even if the patient is unconscious or can't swallow they can be given rectally just like a suppository or even slipped in the mouth between the teeth and cheek. it is best to moisten the mouth first with a damp swab.
Feeling that you have helped your loved one pass peacefully can help with the grieving. Feeling paralyzed after a death is perfectly normal your brain just has too much to process but if it does not improve then you probably have a form of PTSD which you may need professional help for.
Most Hospices have grief councilling available which anyone can attend. Your loved one does not have to be a hospice patient for you to be welcomed.
You do not have to be present at the bedside when a loved one dies and often the patient will wait till they are alone and pass then. When you sense the end is coming make time to say your goodbyes and tell them whatever is on your mind. Don't feel guilty is you were not actually there, you were there in spirit and thinking of them.

I watched my little brother die a nasty death. I rubbed his back as he took his last little breaths and his body couldn't take anymore. It was interesting as a Registered Nurse to be on this side of the bed. I have held the hands of so many people as they died, old and young. This was new, it was a worse death than I had seen and it was my brother, and I loved him dearly. It's been three years now. How do you get over it? You don't. It will stay with you forever. I read this once and it rang true for me, the waves he is talking about are grief;

"In the beginning, the waves are 100 feet tall and crash over you without mercy. They come 10 seconds apart and don't even give you time to catch your breath. All you can do is hang on and float. After a while, maybe weeks, maybe months, you'll find the waves are still 100 feet tall, but they come further apart. When they come, they still crash all over you and wipe you out. But in between, you can breathe, you can function. You never know what's going to trigger the grief. It might be a song, a picture, a street intersection, the smell of a cup of coffee. It can be just about anything...and the wave comes crashing. But in between waves, there is life.

Somewhere down the line, and it's different for everybody, you find that the waves are only 80 feet tall. Or 50 feet tall. And while they still come, they come further apart. You can see them coming. An anniversary, a birthday, or Christmas, or landing at O'Hare. You can see it coming, for the most part, and prepare yourself. And when it washes over you, you know that somehow you will, again, come out the other side. Soaking wet, sputtering, still hanging on to some tiny piece of the wreckage, but you'll come out.

Take it from an old guy. The waves never stop coming, and somehow you don't really want them to. But you learn that you'll survive them. And other waves will come. And you'll survive them too".

I know you are talking about the trauma of watching your loved one die, but I think that the trauma and grief go together. It is awful. I see this is written 6 years ago and I hope things have improved for you now. Maybe you could update people on what helped you?

My mother recently died. Its been over a month now and on occasion I break down especially when I think about not having her around. Not being able to go to her and see her or talk to her anymore. I feel the anxiety in my chest like heavy stress. When it gets too bad I take deep breaths through my nose and blow it out slowly through my mouth a few times and I feel some calm after that. I too watch my mother die with 2 of my 3 sisters by her side. I was at the end of the bed watching her breathing with a gurgling sound as her chest filled with fluid. She had Alzheimer, late stage Kidney disease. I was hoping that she would pass with the Kidney disease where she would just go to sleep and in about a week or two she would pass quietly but she also had a stenosis faulty heart valve and that's what took her from us. I stood at the foot of her bed and watched her gasp her last few breaths and jump for another breath and then it ended with her legs drawing up. I watched her skin color change from a pale blue to a pale light red with the light that was over her. I cannot get that image out of my mind. It haunts me every time I think about it. I was very close to my mother and she and I had lived together for many years. I cared for her for 4 years and watched her mind degrade over time to the point where she sometimes didn't know who I was. Death is so very hard and I know that its a burden we all must face but I never expected it to be as hard on me as it was with my mothers passing. Holidays will be the worst and so I am preparing my mind as best I can.
I don't know what to say to someone going through the same thing other than to let them know they are not alone in this life trial. I hope you find peace as I keep looking for my own but I know it will take some time for both of us.

I sometimes wish I had not kept vigil over Mom's bedside because I cannot get the images out of my mind. Although I would have regretted it had I not been there I don't think I will ever shake those sad images from my mind.

I hope that one day I'll be able to picture the happy moments of my life with Mom instead of the sad ones before she passed. May 9th will be two years since she died.

I've only read the beginning and the end of this thread so I might be repeating something someone else has said.
As a nurse, I've watched more people die than othets in the general public. Each one is different but they all result in the end of life of the body.

I believe that all people have a soul, making each person uniquely different. I also believe that the soul is immortal and lives forever. The body is designed to last only so long but the soul lives on in a spiritual realm. This comforts me, knowing that the special part of my loved one continues on. The hard part is that there is no connection between the physical world and the spiritual world. That part is done on faith. As hard as it is to loose your loved one, they live on in a realm where we will be going when it's our turn.

Counseling will help make sense of this confusing time.

You have to take yourself out of the equation while you are watching an old person die. For them death may be coming as exquisite relief, and for some they have been anticipating death for years, in order to join their loved ones in the world beyond.
If you don't believe there is life after death, you have to keep really quiet about this and just think positively for them.
But once you are alone, this is the moment to give way to every emotion in the book, from rage to panic to helplessness. This is you being angry with Fate or Destiny or whatever. If you are with a grief counsellor or sensible friend, you can admit to these emotions. For the rest of the time, when in public, pack away your emotions and feelings. Time passes, and while time does not remove or dim your the emotions, with time you will be more master of yourself.

I am no expert on death and dying. Over 30 plus years as a Critical Care RN I have witnessed many deaths. Some I remember vividly. But thank God, none have incapacitated me. I was with my husband when he died at 43 years of age. That certainly was not easy.
I think the main thing that has helped me deal with death, is that I know that I did what any prudent nurse would have done.
The other thing that helps is to know that dying is something we all must do.
I truly believe by your short post that you have done everything possible that you can or did do, and in a loving spirit.
I will tell you a story that happened a LONG time ago, that whenever I am reminded that patients die, this comes to mind first and foremost.
It was about 0300am in the ICU. My new admission was a man in his 70s. His lady friend was with him, as was her nephew, a patrolman in uniform.
I hooked him up to the monitor, put on his oxygen, and was starting his IV.
I could tell by his cardiac monitor and his vital signs that he was dying. I asked him, "Do you want me to call the Chaplain?" He did not say "No."
He said "H*ll, No."
Then he died.
This has disturbed me more than any other death I have witnessed, even my husband's death.

HI Edna,
I'm a nurse too. I understand how you feel. I've felt sad for those who profess no belief in a "higher power" (God, as I refer to Him). Their deaths seem so final and empty. Even though we are the highest life forms on the planet, we all have a Creator (IMO).
I have prayed with dying patients (their idea or open to it) and I believe it has benefited both of us. How sad that he sounded so angry for his last words.

I guess it really depends on your beliefs. I find it kind of amusing that he said "h*ll, no." Maybe he was afraid that if you're asking about the chaplain, it's all over (as it was, but still, doesn't mean he was done living in his mind).

I respect (and even envy) people who believe they are going to heaven. I am not religious and it's pretty much impossible to convince yourself to believe if you haven't been raised that way.

On October 5, 2013, my mom and I were back in the ER. Her feeding tube was leaking and her oxygen level was at its highest. Her primary doctor said my choices were to take her back home or to stay at the hospital with her (as she died). He recommended I take her back home and continue doing what I had been doing for the past 5+ years -- loving and caring for my beloved mom. Of course that is what I did; there was no way I wanted my mom to die in a hospital. While she was still in the ER, I headed over to the local pharmacy to pick up the last prescription I would ever get for her. It was a brand new prescription that she had never had before. It was morphine. Her doctor told me to drip some drops of it on her tongue every few hours. When we got home, I crawled into the bed next to my mom. I gave her a few drops of the morphine and I took the same amount so that I would know what she felt. I put my head on her chest and my arms around her and we fell asleep. Hours later I woke up in unbearable pain. I went to the bathroom and collapsed on the floor. I was in such pain that I could barely crawl on the floor. I cried out to God to help me find the strength to get up and go back to my mom's side -- where I knew she lay dying. By the grace of God, I was able to get up and return to her. A few hours later I got up again and began my regular ritual of caring for her. I cleansed her trach, her feeding tube, and her oxygen tube; I changed her sheets and gently and lovingly cleansed her body -- all the while listening to EWTN in the background. I got back in bed with her and put my head back on her chest and my hand over her heart and, for the first time, I could feel/tell that her heartbeat was slowing down. That she was dying. At 11:05 AM on Sunday morning, October 6th, 2013, my beloved mom took her first breath in Heaven. A little while later, I called my sister in Virginia and my brother in Mississippi. My sister said that she would call the funeral parlor for me, and that I should call her back when I was ready to have them come to our love-filled home. I called my sister back at 8 PM at night. I didn't want my mom to leave the house in the middle of the day with all the neighbors out and about. I wanted to spend time with her still. Praying. Giving her another sponge bath. That night when the police and funeral parlor director came out to our home -- it poured. It rained and rained and rained. For a very long time after the death of my beautiful mom, I couldn't go very long without crying uncontrollably. God had blessed me and honored me with the gift of being my mom's 24/7 caregiver/daughter and I felt like the luckiest daughter in the world. In August of 2016 (last summer), my sister finally bought her dream beach house in the Outer Banks in North Carolina. Since she has 3 big dogs (and a husband) and I have one big dog (in August 2014, God blessed me with a 100-pound pit bull that I rescued one month after my dog died), I decided to be brave and venture to the beach for the winter. I rented a beach house for my dog and me so that I could visit my sister, see the sun rise above the Atlantic every morning, and try to move forward in life without my mom and my side. I was at the beach from November 1st, 2016 - the first week of March, 2017. In January, right before my sister's 60th birthday, she started to not feel well. We thought it was the flu, but additional symptoms kept coming up. When I returned back home in March, my sister and I continued to talk several times a day. She still wasn't feeling well. Even after countless doctors' appointments and blood tests, no one seemed to know what was wrong. I decided to go back to the beach with my dog for the month of May to help her get better. This time, I rented a beach house about 1 minute away from her beach house. I was at the beach one week when my sister had a stroke on May 16th while getting dressed for a doctor's appointment to get a bone marrow biopsy. They life-flighted her to the Norfolk Hospital. I drove the 90 minutes to that hospital with my dog and when I got there, she was getting the tPA drug and having an IR procedure. Our mom got the tPA when she had a stroke, but I had never heard of the IR. Finally the surgeon came out to meet me (and, by that time, my brother-in-law). He said he was sorry but my sister had a massive brain bleed during the Interventional Radiation procedure and is "unresponsive" and on a respirator and doesn't have much time to live. My sister died on May 19th, 2017. Oh. My. God. After her funeral services in Virginia on May 30th, I returned home in June where I still sleep in my mom's hospital bed that is still in our living room. Just like that everything changes. Just like that another sudden ice-cold splash of ocean water smacks you in the face and takes your breath away for a second. For an eternity. My plans to move to the beach to be near my sister are gone. I have been going to 8 AM mass every morning at my local church; I go up there at 7:15 AM when there is no one there so I can just sit and think and pray. While I know for certain that I am one of the lucky ones who was blessed with awesome parents and bestowed the awesome role of caring for them, and while I know I was blessed with awesome siblings and getting along well with my siblings, I think it makes it (death) that much more impossible to accept and deal with. Now what? Now I am in the process of planning my own funeral services and getting my life, papers, and home in order so that my family doesn't have to worry about it or deal with it on their own.  While I am in such disbelief that my beautiful sister is dead, I have to believe that my is 100% in God's hands.  God help me. God help us all.

OH...do I ever understand the OP!

My Mom passed away on June 10
She want to remain at home...and that wish was granted.

Her final week was a nightmare. The horror of that final day will haunt me for a long time. Nothing prepared me for the reality of having to watch my Mom go through that ordeal while I did nothing to help her. I understand that there was no longer anything to do that was going to make anything better....but it is still hard to live with.

My only ray of comfort is the belief that she was not aware of what was happening. But, I have to live with knowing everything.

Hospice was only visiting maybe an hour a day. They are not there at the end...they only get called after the caregiver has taken that journey alone.

My sanity was saved by the incredible home health aides. Two ladies Took turns being daytime aides for my Mom for the last year of her life. They were with me during that last week.

Is it legal to be given the same drugs that are given to our pets to people

No and why do you ask?

Because death is death. Dog cat cow. Turkey. Whatever. We all die

Erinm60, what a callous remark! It's okay if you feel so insensitive to human life but maybe keep it to yourself. There are people on here who are hurting. Have some respect!