Category Archives: death doula

The Neighborhood Elders Are Dying

Mareska Glass, Dot Lawson, Johnny Jarrell, Drudy Jarrell and, just yesterday, Euel Spriggs.

These are the neighbors who were twenty-five to thirty-five years older than me and became my friends. They have all died. Thee last three in just the past two months.

Mareska, aka Marsha, and I meet most every Thursday morning for coffee. She shared her life stories and how she survived World War 2 as a young Jewish girl in Poland after losing her entire family. (A story I still need to write for her).

Dot lived across the street. Her son was married to a friend I hadn’t seen since high school. A reminder we are circle back around one another in life. Dot made wedding cakes and my husband and son regularly benefited from her cast offs. I rescued a baby owl once who’d found its way down her chimney. We differed in how we interpreted God, but always respected the other.

Johnny and Drudy were the cute couple holding hands and walking their dog. More often than not, their evening walk timed perfectly with mine and so we’d stroll around together. Johnny loved his annual trip to Boston in the winter to represent his company at the annual fish market. Drudy never failed to ask about my son. They had two accomplished, good men as sons themselves.

Euel died yesterday morning. It was expected and his beloved great niece, Michelle, has been with him through it all. He and his late wife, Marie, weren’t able to have children, but they spoiled all their family. The strongest memory of Euel will be that he truly lived a life of kindness and respect for all. He LIVED it. He didn’t go around pontificating.

My childhood was spent around aging relatives and so that may be why I gravitate to the elders around me. They can often have a way of being that enriches my life in small and large ways.

Let Me Crawl If I Can’t Walk

It finally happened, my friend, and ninety-four year old neighbor, fell… and hasn’t walked again.

It didn’t have to be that way. His loving family was startled by how much he complained about his leg hurting. He never complains. It was a deep bruise and would need time to heal.

The family and the doctor, however, immediately flipped him from being someone in his home who had a housekeeper, physical therapist twice and week and a nurse check-in once a week ,to being a man told “not to try and get up because you’ll fall again.” He has literally been pushed down in his chair.

Overnight his bed was switched to a hospital, his walker was switched to a wheelchair and 24/7 caretakers added to the day.

He looked at me early in this process and said, “I guess they just want me to sit here, get old, rot and die.”

His 24/7 caretakers and I know he could have walked again. Not now. It’s been too many weeks and now morphine has been added “so he’s never in pain.”

My family has had the conversations about medical power of attorney, end of life procedures, wills, etc. Now we have had the conversation about the “just before” stage when my husband and I can and want to push ourselves as much as we can to keep moving and functioning.

I told them, let me crawl if I can’t walk.

Rushing Death

I’ve not been writing about my ninety-four year old neighbor recently because circumstances have changed wildly.

We had been taking walks together twice daily until about ten weeks ago when he fell while doing errands with his family. Nothing broke, but he suffered a deep bruise and pain that he had never felt before.

He has no children and his wife of many years died in 2019 so he has a grand niece who loves him like a daughter and arranges care for him. Maybe too much care in this circumstance. Suddenly his bed was switched for a hospital bed, his PT was switched to nurses , and his walked switched to a wheelchair. He is told not to try and walk or even exercise (because he will then think it’s so he can walk).

He looks at me with eyes that say, “This is too much, but they mean well.”

Once he said, “I guess I’m just supposed to sit here, get old, rot and die now.”

I know how hard it is to see love ones in pain, but I wonder if, in this circumstance, the path should have respected more of how my neighbor always lived his life- he always pushed and kept going. He wanted to keep pushing and going still but has been swarmed by good-meaning family who saw the last fall as the step toward active dying.

I visit him most every day. I try and make him laugh about something. I usually succeed.

He and I Iook at one another now and then and our eyes say, “Yeah, this could be different.”