Cora was so thankful that Hospice had prepared her for what she could expect in her husband’s dying…

So she wasn’t alarmed when she noticed that during the transition (active) phase of his dying, Parker had lost control of his bladder and bowels as the muscles in that area began to relax. The nurse had quietly taken care of his needs.

And when she’d heard gurgling sounds coming from his chest as though marbles were rolling around inside, Cora knew not to be alarmed if these sounds became very loud—she had been forewarned that this was a normal change resulting from his inability to cough up normal secretions and it was combined with a decrease of fluid intake. She had simply turned Parker’s head to the side to let gravity drain the secretions. And she had also gently wiped his mouth with a moist cloth.

Now she knew the end must be approaching…he’d had a decrease in appetite and thirst, wanting little or no food or fluid. Cora also knew this disinterest was normal…she had realized that nourishing the body took energy, and Parker’s body had naturally begun to conserve energy days ago. So she had not forced any food or drink into him, nor had she tried to use guilt to manipulate him into eating or drinking something. To do this would only have made Parker much more uncomfortable, and Cora had wanted him to be as comfortable as possible.

Instead, she had offered him small chips of ice, frozen Gatorade and sometimes juice to refresh his mouth…when he appeared able and interested in taking them. When he had been able to swallow, the Hospice nurse had shown Cora how to give Parker a small amount of fluid given by syringe.

But now it seemed all she could do was to use glycerin swabs to help keep his mouth and lips moist and comfortable.

And she imparted physical comfort with a cool, moist washcloth on his forehead.

Cora had watched and waited and listened and comforted Parker as his regular breathing pattern changed with the onset of a different breathing pace. The nurse had told her about a particular breathing pattern called Cheyne-Stokes breathing—it consisted of breathing irregularly…shallow breaths with periods of no breathing of five to thirty seconds and up to a full minute. Parker was now doing this. He had also experienced periods of rapid shallow pant-like breathing. Cora had been told these patterns were very common and indicated a decrease in Parker’s circulation in the internal organs.

With tenderness and love Cora elevated Parker’s head. Then, with tears in her eyes, she decided to turn him onto his side to bring him comfort…and she crawled onto the bed to cradle him. As she held Parker and caressed his cool hand, she spoke ever so gently to him. All the while, soothing music…Parker’s favorite…wafted around them.

He seemed unresponsive, withdrawn…in a comatose-like state.

She knew this indicated preparation for release.

He was detaching from his surroundings…from their relationship, from all that ever was…he was letting go.

Knowing his hearing would remain all the way to the end, she continued to speak to Parker in her normal tone of voice, continued to cradle him…and said all the things she needed to say to help him let go.

Dropping by a few minutes later, the Hospice nurse quietly closed the door to give Cora and Parker privacy and tranquility.

Melanie Hack
Author of Who Killed My Sister, My friend
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