The Death Process
This is a process writing where I describe the death process. Many people are not aware of the steps the body takes when ending life. I feel people should be aware of this transition.
In June of 2002, I watched my mother die. She was a victim of cancer and was under hospice care. It was an experience I will never forget. At the time, it was hard to understand what her body was going through, but I learned a lot during this process. I feel everyone should know about this in order to prepare for the time they may experience this for themselves. This is a natural process for the human body. Just like everything else in nature, the body has its own way to prepare for the end of life. What I will be discussing is the physical shut down of the body.
At the beginning of the end, there may be a sudden decline in health. This may be a result of some type of failure in the body. From this point, you may notice that the person has fewer interests in things they once loved and enjoyed. They may have more interests in getting their affairs in order or talking about their spiritual beliefs. The person may sleep more than usual. There may be times they seem very unresponsive but know that it is very important to communicate with them and touch them. Even though they may be unresponsive, they can hear you and feel you.
As the body shuts down, the body will have less of an appetite. Food, at this point, is less important. Don’t force them to eat; this is not what they want. Instead, offer something cold to drink or crushed ice. Generally, they will be very weak. Don’t be alarmed by this, you have to understand that if the body is not getting fuel then it operates less. This is part of the natural process. Toward the end of death, you may notice the person has a spurt of energy. That is normal but it often does not last long.
You will notice many changes in the skin during this process. It can be cold and clammy. At times the skin may turn blue or blotchy in color. During the last few days, the body’s pulse and blood pressure can make drastic changes. This may lead the person to be overcome by emotion by being very sad or possibly angry. Don’t take any of this personal. Just continue to be there for your loved one.
Amongst the first things to cease in the body is digestion and elimination. There may be a time where they eliminate more than usual then it will stop all together. As systems in the body begin to shut down, the person may have episodes of shakiness. Again, this is normal and you can help by holding your loved one close. Another thing to be aware of are the changes with the eyes. There may be times when the person appears to be staring off into space and their eyes may be glassy. At this point they may be experiencing hallucinations. If you notice the eyes to be glassy and fixed, normally death will occur in a few hours.
Please know this, among the last functions to cease in the body are the ability to feel and hear. No matter what other steps the body is going through to end life, you can still talk to your loved one and hold your loved one. They can hear and feel you, even if they don’t respond. The last process to cease is breathing. In the last stages of life, breathing will be far apart and more labored. You may even hear what is called “the death rattle”. As the body is able to deliver less oxygen to the body, organs will become further weaken and will stop functioning. This process will continue until the final breath is taken.
It was hard for me to watch my mother go through this process towards the end of her life. I remember the day she stopped swallowing and how alarmed I was. I had no idea that the body had steps it took to shut down the ability to live. When the hospice nurse arrived, she explained to me and my sisters what was happening and gave us a pamphlet about the dying process. This is a difficult thing to discuss, but you have to be mentally prepared yourself so that you can be there for your loved one.
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18 Responses to “The Death Process”
On August 14, 2008 at 3:48 pm
I just experienced the same process when my Dad died from Cancer on August 4th. Everything you mention happened except there was one additional thing which startled me completely. As Dad was taking his last breaths he jolted straight. Then he relaxed and passed quietly. I have not been able to find anything that explains the jolt.
Thanks for writing what you did.
On November 17, 2008 at 12:08 am
I learned about this process prior to my mother’s passing from inflammatory breast cancer. It was integral to my being able to be present during her passing. I am interested in the availability of this info in Spanish. Any connections and/or resources in Spanish would be greatly appreciated.
Kelly,
Early Intervention Teacher
Monterey, California
On November 26, 2008 at 9:56 pm
I experienced something very similar when my mom died at hospice. That death rattle was so incredibly disturbing. I heard it all night as I sat over her. I had to stifle a scream a few times, it was so painful to watch. She had a seriously high fever all night in spite of all the meds she was on. Her eyes were shut most of the night but in the morning about 5:45, she opened one eye. The other one was completely shut. My mom was legally blind and her left eye was the worse of the two so I wonder if that explains why the left eye was closed. I sensed that she was about to go. It’s hard to explain but I just knew, so I reached out and held her hand and stroked her hair and said a few words that needed to be said before she could let go…and she did.
That is a moment that I will always remember.
The nurse later told me that my mom’s spirit is in the room still.
I wonder where she is now. If she is near. I hope so. I miss her.
On January 9, 2009 at 12:47 pm
I am going through my dad’s process as I write this. He is dying of cancer and it hurts to see him going through so much pain. Hospice has helped and they gave us a booklet on the process of death, which has greatly helped explain what my dad is going through, especially the not eating part. I only want him to stop hurting and hope some day to see him again. I only pray to God that I am there when he finally leaves us, I wish I had more time with him, but I understand that he needs to go, I have to let him go.
Thanks for writing it helps to know you are not alone.
On January 11, 2009 at 9:39 pm
my mother-in-law is going through this process right now. Can anyone tell me how long the process is?
On February 1, 2009 at 11:22 pm
Now I feel awful being so out of control my father past. I was there with him 2 the end and my father was the only real death experience I’ve had . Knowing that he might have seen me behave like that would have hurt him even more!I should have done some research just so I would have known what I was about to face.
On March 11, 2009 at 10:34 pm
Anita, if that’s a joke you.are.terrible
On March 17, 2009 at 4:18 pm
The process can be anywhere from one to two weeks. Hospice uses the term “actively dying” to describe the death process.
On March 20, 2009 at 1:07 am
Thank you very much for writing this. My family and I are currently going through this process with my grandmother and reading this helps so much. Were not entirely sure where we are on the process but this helps. Thanks
On March 23, 2009 at 4:47 pm
Cass, there really isn’t a way to know where your grandmother is in the process because the process can vary so much. When my father died it happened relatively quickly. His hospice nurse was surprised. My dad had become ready a few days before, and I think that made a difference. My aunt died last week and it was a slower process for her. She had wanted to stick around for awhile.
I think it’s very important to give a loved one permission to leave. I’ve been with three people as they left this life and in each case the process seemed to accelerate for them when they were given permission to leave and the goodbyes were said. In each case they *seemed* unresponsive, but I’m sure they could hear me. In my husband’s case he was in a drug-induced coma for eight days. I had been talking the entire time, telling him to fight – that he could pull through. Finally in the wee hours of the night I asked one of his nurses what was going on. She explained the entire physiological process to me and assured me that he was indeed dying. I went to the hospital chapel and cried for a little while and then in the morning I went in and told my husband that it was okay to go – that the kids and I would be okay. Almost immediately his vitals started changing and he died in the afternoon. I realized later that I had been prolonging his suffering by asking him to fight.
My dad reached his own awareness, but I told him that he’d be with mom and that God would take care of him.
With my aunt it was the hospice nurse who initiated the permission to leave. She told her that she’d be with the angels. After she left I talked to her about possibilites of what she’d be going toward. She died within an hour.
It’s difficult for those of us who are going to be left behind to let go, but I truly believe that one of the best gifts we can give our loved ones as they’re making the transition is the permission to make that transition.
On April 16, 2009 at 7:47 am
I’m going through this right now with my father. He’s only 58 years old but has been fighting cancer for 10 years now. I’m only 23 and my brother is 25. This is absolutely the hardest thing I will ever have to endure. He has been in his dieing stage for well over a year now and is finally coming to the end. He is heavily medicated and sleeps all day now. He’s stopped eating and barely drinks. I wish i had been better educated on the process of death. This is all very new to me and hard to understand. I’ve read a lot of people giving their loved ones “permission” to die or leave and completely understand the need for such a thing, but I have no clue how to do this for my father. I’m still very young and telling my dad that its OK to leave means I really am loosing him. I know that’s completely selfish but I don’t feel like I have had the time with my dad that I really needed.
Thank you everyone for your comments and posts. It really does help to know that I am not alone although sometimes it’s very hard to see.
On April 18, 2009 at 8:52 pm
My father is in his bedroom at this very moment actively dying from Alzheimer’s disease. He was diagnosed in 2004 and now, 5 years later he is in his final days. Over the past 5 years, I have experienced everything from him wandering all day and night, lost in the city, to him fighting me to get out of the house. It’s been exactly a week now since he last ate anything. This past month he stopped eating food because he forgot how to hold the fork and couldn’t locate his mouth when he tried to eat. I had to begin feeding him myself but he wasn’t comfortable with me putting food into his mouth so I brought a blender and liquified foods and gave it to him with a straw. For the past two weeks I gave him ensure through a straw-usually 1-3 bottles each day depending on if he would eat/drink. Last week, I woke up to find him gasping for air and he seemed in intense pain. After I calmed his breathing with some meds(put into his yogurt) left by the hospice nurse and also gave him oxygen. It has now been one whole week and he hasn’t eaten or drank one thing since. This past week his heart rate increased, his fingers turned blue due to lack of oxygen, he stopped responding and stopped turning his head, began to stare at the wall or ceiling and his breathing is irregular. His ear began to decay because he laid on that side for too many hours and it looks really sore. Tomorrow will make one week and one day now. His room smells really really bad althought he is cleaned regularly. One thing I wish I would have done was to be more proactive when he was in the hospital and not let the doctors tell me how long he should stay in there and agree to all of their recommendations. He got a bed sore and mercer while in the hospital to make matters worse. I feel like I would have given him the care he needed more that rotating nurses and doctors who treat all patients the same, when they are all different. Now, his legs seem to have bloodclots and he lays in bed with one eye open, breathing heavy, and his mouth open. I keep checking his room all throughout the day and night to see if he is still breathing and I hate that I have to keep looking, anticipating death. It’s the worse thing I ever had to experience in my life. I feel like I am waiting for the worse thing in this world to happen. And it will. At any minute.
On April 21, 2009 at 4:43 pm
My heart goes out to each and every one of you going through this process, as it is grueling. The funny thing is, we are all terminally ill (yet only a few of us are lucky enough to know it), which makes death a natural part of life. However, no where along the way are we taught how to lose someone and what the death process is like, (this by the way is a great description, thank you!). Then once it’s over our culture expects you to get over it in a mere few days, then it’s back to work and life… but you never do, get over it that is… instead you get through it, and you will. Be kind to yourself and may you deal with your process in your way, don’t let anyone tell you what’s right and what’s wrong because there is no such thing. I wish for you and your dear loved ones all of the love, courage and strength you need. Blessings & Peace!
On May 27, 2009 at 8:21 am
My mother is in the latter stages of Alzheimer’s; my dad 94 and recently had a heart attack and has congestive heart failure. While at their house this past week, I found a journal my mother wrote in 1966, written a short while after my brother died of cancer. I was 13 yrs old at the time and much I never knew…. until now. She described the diagnosis, the 3 years of ordeal in and out of hospitals, and then, finally, described his death. I was so shaken when reading this and I’m having some difficulty getting my emotions to come back to 2009….. I “happened” to be at a friend’s house the night my brother died, so was not there to witness anything about which she wrote. All I can say is Thank God for hospice, which was not available in 1966. My parents had to deal with this alone, not understanding anything and having no one help them to understand what was happening and what to do to best cope and to best help my brother go through the process of dying. My mother’s words painted a horrific image. I pray for all those here experiencing this and am grateful that hospice exists. It must help, even though no one can take away the pain of dying or of watching a loved one die. May the Lord bless you allwith a peace and strength that passes human understanding.
On June 2, 2009 at 4:03 pm
I have a friend whose husband has at the most a couple of weeks left. I wish I knew how I could help her. She does not deal with death well. She is a Christian and a Minister. I think it would be better to give him permission to go. He has cancer in both hips, diabetes, has had numerous strokes, and has vascular dementia. None of us are afraid of death, we know where we are going. It is just the watching and waiting. My only fear is the feeling of suffocation when it becomes harder to breathe. Is it possible to tell if a person feels distress when this occurs? Or are they too unaware to know?
A doctor’s advice or a care giver’s would be much appreciated.
On June 20, 2009 at 11:34 am
I just experienced this process about 2 days ago with a 27 month old baby that was fighting Brain Cancer for almost 9 months. I was there on Sunday when Hospice said she would only live for a few more hours. She was alert and functioning but she did urinate a lot, had a hard time breathing and swallowing. Her heart rate would go from 170 to almost 210. She would respond to her parents and to needs like hungry or bottle. She continued to hold on for 4 more days. She passed away at 9pm on 9/18/2009. During that time she was sleeping and was unresponsive to anyone. She was pretty active that day and then her breathing became distant then stopped. Her color was very blue then turned to a milky white color within about 1 hour. The parents finally got the courage to dressed her (So Cute.) and held her for about 3 hours. She then lost her bodily fluid and urinated all over herself even through a diaper. Her parents cleaned her up and held her until the funeral director came and the father carried her out upon his request and they said their good byes to their baby. They had requested that the baby live her last days at home and not in the hospital and the night it happned to be as quiet as possible to not develop a scene with an ambulance or herse. It was one of the worst things in my life to witness and I hope no one has to go throught that ever. No one ever understands the death process until you actually see it live. Its very upsetting. Being that it was a baby it was a little worse for me I think.
On July 12, 2009 at 11:03 pm
I just went through the process with my mom the last couple of weeks. She passed today @ 12:08 pm. She too was diagnosed with cancer (Stomach cancer) in December of 2008. Up until this morning, she had been fairly responsive and said she was in no pain. The one thing I know is that the cancer was not what took her, she basically starved to death. Even though she had her stomach removed she had a pouch created but she still never really ate anything after that. This morning when my sisters checked in on her, she asked if it was ok for her to go…they told her yes and called me. When I got there, she was cold and alittle blue but still alive. In the 11/2 hours that I was there she had the glassy look in her eyes, was unresponsive and she never blinked once. We continued to talk to her, hold her hands and stroke her head. Her breathing became shallower and then finally her last breath came.
I had been with my adoptive mom when she passed and also my husbands grandmother. Both were basically the same steps and very emotional. But this was the hardest, as this was my natural mother and I only had 4 months with her. Being in the medical field, I understand death and the process but it doesn’t make it any easier. God bless
On September 4, 2009 at 5:23 pm
My partner went through this process in a local hospice a month ago. One thing that may be a surprise to some of you is that he didn’t show any of the “actively dying” signs until the very day he passed. He was chatting on the phone in the morning, and when i got to him he was weak but ‘bright’. He had a lack of appetite anyway because he was dying of bowel cancer. However, he was still drinking. The first alarm bell rang for me when his catheter had passed no urine & the remnants of what had been previously drained were very dark.
Come noon, he had shown a real decline, & had gone from intermittent sleeping & periods awake; to staring glassy-eyed into space. I spoke to the doctor who thought he may have “a few days” left. By 4pm that day he had slipped away. I knew the end was coming when his breathing changed from normal to short, & fast-paced breaths. (The same thing happened to my Nan just over a year before).
After about an hour his breathing changed again. His breaths were becoming further spaced apart, & very shallow. He was still staring, & gradually his breathing stopped. The nurse was with us & she had been feeling for a pulse, which had ceased before the breathing did.
There was no death rattle, no gasping, no jolting, no struggle. Just silence. There was a slight contraction of his body- as when you hold your breath for too long & you feel that discomfort that you need to breathe… then that was it.
Distraught as I was to lose him, & as much as i miss him; he had a peaceful death. It was pain-free, albeit thanks to morphine- (however, he wasn’t ‘doped up’ as he was still only on a low dose). & although we knew the time wouldn’t be far off, even the doctors thought his passing was sudden. By the time they had asked us if there was anyone we wanted to call, it was too late.
The nurse told us to keep holding his hands & talk to him (which was very difficult to do over the tears) as he could still hear. According to the staff the hearing is the very last sense to cease, & so we tried our best to keep talking until the nurse finally told us he’d gone.
I hope this is useful to anyone else who is going through the same ordeal. My sympathy & best wishes go to you, & I’m sorry you’re having to read these articles, but they have helped me with what to expect in the past.
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