In my last Blog post I shared some of Henry’s story of existential suffering and the feelings he expressed to his daughter in the time leading up to his death, and said I’d share some ideas for relieving mental suffering.

Hearing the following reassurance from a physician or health care team, “My job is to make sure you remain comfortable and will not have to suffer bad [physical] pain,” can help many terminally ill patients who suffer existential pain…and certainly helped alleviate fear in Henry.

And it became the role of Henry’s daughter to make sure the medical team would follow through with the relief of pain symptoms experienced by Henry…right to his death.

Despite the fact Henry had transferred authority to his daughter for his financial and personal care, his daughter continued to ask Henry for his advice and wishes in issues he was involved in the past so that he knew and believed he was still important. And she reassured him he would continue to make decisions for himself and he would certainly be consulted on all.

And when Henry revisited the issue of his perceived failures, it was helpful for her to introduce the concept of forgiveness and to give permission for self-forgiveness.

She also took the responsibility to transmit Henry’s thoughts to other parties directly or through written communication when it was difficult for him to write or speak at length (she even helped him send cards by purchasing them for him and addressing them and gave him the opportunity to sign them before she placed stamps on them and mailed them…).

Using an idea from one of the following examples, Henry’s daughter also reminded her father that it was a privilege for her to return some of the aid he had given her and others in the past:

“You fed me when I was young and showed concern for me when I was sick. This gives me a chance to pay you back. It is a privilege, not a burden.”

“I heard you express concern about not having always been there for us in the past and you wondered if some family members will desert you now. In that recent Christmas letter to each of your children (and to me in person) you apologized for difficulties and transgressions you placed upon us over the years…and, speaking from my heart, I can promise you I will stay involved with you to the end and carry out your wishes. It is a privilege, not a burden.” 

“You were there for me and my children when we needed you. Now I can be there for you. I consider it a privilege, not a burden.”

“We’ve worked it out Dad. I’m going to do A, James will do B, William will do C, and Caroline and Henry Junior are coming to stay for a few days the first of next month to give us a little break. We’re all happy to work together to help you in your time of need. You were always there for us.”

“Don’t worry Dad. If it gets to be a little too much for us we can always get an aide to help, but right now we don’t think that will be necessary. We want to do it ourselves. It’s a privilege, not a burden.”

As Henry lost his strength, he accepted a greater degree of help from others. But at first he was worried about losing his dignity and was uncomfortable about relying on others to move him, wash him, fetch things for him, take care of his body excretions when he could no longer control himself, and finally, feed him. One day he realized his limitations and embraced assistance from others when he heard, “You took care of your wife for so long and asked nothing in return, and if you’re ready now we will do the same for you.”

How better to show love?

Melanie Hack
Author of Who Killed My Sister, My friend
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