Nearly a year ago, my father, living with heart and kidney failure by virtue of dialysis, had a heart attack on Inauguration Day and was put in intensive care. He had requested "full code" where everything is done to preserve your life. The doctor asked him if he really wanted a ventilator if he was brain dead. Dad said no. The doctor then, without explanation to us, secretly changed Dad's orders to Do Not Resuscitate. When Dad learned of this, he asked me to get a lawyer to reinstate his "full code" wishes and to name my sister and me as the ones to make the decision if he were unable to make the decision for himself.
When we went over the "DNR" forms with the lawyer, we could see that "extreme measures" included withdrawal of food and fluid.
The nurses took excellent physical care of Dad, but they and his primary care doctor pestered us constantly to go back to DNR. They acted like missionaries for the religion of death before your time. They harped on "all the tubes" and the dialysis machine, all of which he was used to. None caused him any pain. They also harped on "palliative care." We believed this to be the equivalent of hospice, so didn't consider it. We were unable to ask them questions we would have liked to because of their bias toward death or early exit.
Dad's choosing to live--it amounted to two weeks more of life, brought him the chance to see all his family and many friends, plus spend some time with his beloved lady friend. He had an individual message for each of us. He listened to and told stories. With his brother, he watched his Steelers win the Super Bowl. All the while, the nurses told me what a rotten quality of life he had. (Starving, dehydration and lethal drugs would be better?)
Two days after the Super Bowl, I learned from a nurse that his personal physician had reinstated the DNR. I spent hours that day getting the lawyer back in to represent Dad's stated interests. I asked my father if he wanted to continue the treatments he was getting, and he said "Oh, yes!" Those were his last words. That night, his blood pressure began to drop despite the medicine he had been given. For about an hour, my cousin and I held his hand and told him stories of our happy lives with him. Then he slipped away.
Death sure isn't for sissies, nor is witnessing death, but I still haven't gotten over the time we lost with him wrangling with the nurses and doctor. Many of the people in the ICU waiting room had the same problem and were distraught over it. Some got lawyers.
When he calls, you'll know and it will be time to go. Easing the burden may not be His plan...
This was my father's choice. It should have been respected.
however, if you become comatose, you better make sure your POA knows what you want....