Common regrets people have on their deathbed and avoiding them now

Life Hacker By Melanie Pinola  

There may be no better way to learn about life than by listening to people who are facing death. A palliative nurse has posted five of the most common regrets people have in the last few weeks of their lives—lessons for us all now.

The top regrets center largely around living a more authentic life:

1. I wish I'd had the courage to live a life true to myself, not the life others expected of me.
This was the most common regret of all. When people realise that their life is almost over and look back clearly on it, it is easy to see how many dreams have gone unfulfilled. [...]

2. I wish I'd had the courage to express my feelings.
Many people suppressed their feelings in order to keep peace with others. As a result, they settled for a mediocre existence and never became who they were truly capable of becoming. Many developed illnesses relating to the bitterness and resentment they carried as a result.

Many of the patients also wished they had spent less time working and pretending to be content, and more time with friends and actually allowing themselves to be happy. Notably: these people didn't regret not getting promotions or making more money or being famous.

We've touched on related themes in the past, but these real life stories of people with unfulfilled dreams are certainly more poignant. Photo by Adam Baker.

End of Life Spirituality: What's the meaning of my life?

From The Huffington Post by Rev. Dr. Walter J. Smith, S.J.

Doug, 81, recently learned that he has end-stage cancer and probably only a few months to live. He's devastated, frightened and feels alone. His wife died two years ago, and he has missed her greatly. He has outlived his siblings and closest friends. His only daughter lives 2,500 miles away; his three adult grandchildren are scattered around the country as well.

Doug finds himself thinking a lot about what he calls "The Big Questions": "What's the meaning of my life?" 

When you add up them up, do my good memories outnumber the failed opportunities and disappointments? What's going to happens after I die? Is there a God? How will I be judged? How will I be remembered by my daughter and grandchildren?"

Larry is 42 and a Wall Street analyst. Work is his life; it's how he defines himself. Everything else has taken a back seat to his career: marriage, family, social relationships. Larry has just learned that he has prostate cancer, and question upon question swirl unanswered in his head. "Is cancer going to cut short or radically alter my life? Will I survive this? Will it destroy my career? I went to Harvard. I've been killing myself on Wall Street for the past 20 years. And for what, to be facing a radical prostatectomy?"

Doug has not been a religious person. Unlike people who are rooted in a faith tradition and community, he feels adrift. He can't turn to and rely upon prayers and rituals, clergy and fellow congregants, all of which might help him find comfort and meaning. And he does not have much of a support network either, apart from some of his Wall Street co-workers.

Samantha is a 38 year old African-American single mother of two who has been diagnosed with Mitral valve prolapse, a heart valve disease that will require surgery. She has been treated for high blood pressure for several years, and suffers from shortness of breath and dizziness. She has chronic swelling in her ankles and has gained a considerable amount of weight since the birth of her second child. Although Samantha's doctors are optimistic about the valve repair and her long-term prognosis, Samantha is pessimistic, believing in a very fundamentalist way that her condition is God's punishment for her free-wheeling lifestyle, which she believes contributed to her first pregnancy that resulted in a still birth. "Am I a good mother? Did I smoke and drink too much when I was younger? Will God forgive me? How will my children get along if I'm no longer here?"

Although each of these people are worlds apart in terms of their life experiences and diagnoses, what's common to them is that a serious or life-altering illness has triggered inner questioning and a search to make sense of life. "Who am I? What's the purpose of my life? Why was I put on this earth?" At their root, each of their questions is spiritual in nature. Spirituality touches the essence of who we are, regardless of whether or not we embrace religious faith or practice.

Spirituality, according to the 2009 consensus conference sponsored by the Archstone Foundation, is "the aspect of humanity that refers to the way individuals seek and express meaning and purpose and the way they experience their connectedness to the moment, to self, to others, to nature and to the significant or sacred."

Being unable to grapple successfully with these basic questions of existence can contribute to what may be called spiritual distress. Too often, health care professionals -- appropriately focused on the diagnosis and proposed treatment plans -- pay insufficient attention to the spiritual questions that arise and need to be addressed. People need "spiritual care" as much as they need "medical care."

When our bodies are under assault from disease or illness and our minds are reeling from the threat of disability or death, our spirit is there to hold it all together. And many people can play the role of a spiritual care provider. Spiritual care might come from a spouse, a doctor or nurse, a priest, minister, rabbi or imam, a trusted friend or co-worker. What is required is presence, an ability to listen and understand, and an honest attempt to help a person find meaning -- real meaning -- in their life circumstances.

A person in spiritual distress is usually looking for meaning. A spiritual companion, whoever that may be, must understand this universal need to find meaning and commit to accompanying a patient to find and affirm their own answers from within their own life and experience.

That is what a good spiritual companion does. He or she commits to the journey and becomes a mirror held up to their friend's life, inviting them to look in it deeply and to express truthfully what they see. They encourage their friends to reminisce about events and relationships that have occurred throughout their life and to rediscover legacies, meaning and spiritual strength.

Astute, sensitive spiritual care helps create gentle pathways through which a person might achieve inner growth and peace during critical steps along life's journey until it is finally completed.

If you know a Doug or a Larry or a Samantha, don't be afraid to reach out to them in a gentle way. Recognize that people cope with health crises and grief in their own way and at their own pace. Most importantly, offer to be there for them. Listen to what they say and what they don't say. If your friend is in a hospital, ask if they'd like for a chaplain to visit. I've learned from many years of observation that professional chaplains are particularly able to help people -- regardless of faith or beliefs -- to find meaning and comfort.

Meaning and comfort is what we all need and what we all desire.

The Rev. Dr. Walter J. Smith, S.J. has served as President and CEO of HealthCare Chaplaincy since September 1993

End of life decisions the Christian worldview

From Catholic Womanhood

My friend, Marci, drives a basketball carpool every week, carting her teenage son and his teammates to practices and games. So she hears a lot, from the boys, about their daily lives.

One conversation a few weeks ago sent chills up her spine.

“How’s your Grandpa doing?” Marci asked Trey, an occasional rider.

Trey’s Grandpa had been in the hospital, a few states away, for two months after suffering a systemic infection that left him weak and unable to breathe on his own. Trey’s aunts and uncles had been taking turns visiting, flying down to spend time with him and watch over his care.

“Well, not so good,” said Trey.

And then, in a matter-of-fact tone, he added, “But they stopped feeding him last week. The doctor said now he’ll die naturally, on his own, sometime this week.”

Marci’s jaw dropped. She didn’t know what to say. Trey’s parents were nice people, not attached to any particular faith, but trying to raise good kids. And yet here was Trey nonchalantly describing his extended family’s decision to starve his Grandpa as a “natural” death.

When the other boys left the car, Marci’s own son turned to her, aghast, and said, “What’s up with that? Stop feeding him so he’ll die?!”

What’s up with that? It’s “worldview” in action.

What’s a “worldview?”

Our worldview is the lens through which we see the world—it’s anchored to the truths we believe and reflected in the shape of our decisions.

It’s the window through which we interpret our world, find meaning, and make decisions about right and wrong.

Decisions like whether or not we should continue feeding Grandpa.

Secular or Christian Worldview?

The sharp divide between these two worldviews begins at the beginning…with their premises.

While the Christian worldview centers on God (and acknowledges that God is in charge and we are not), the secular worldview exalts “me and my happiness.”

That’s an easy sell. Daily messages from the media, entertainment, counselors, doctors--even nominally religious folks--reinforce the secular worldview that it’s “all about me.”

And ideas that once seemed unthinkable blend into the cultural “white noise”— hardly noticed, rarely challenged, but imprinted in mind and memory.

Ideas like…

“We can’t really know what’s true. You have your truth, I have mine.”
“What’s wrong for me might be right for you.”
“What really matters is that you’re happy.”
“You’re entitled to get what you want. Now.”
“You’ve got to think about yourself first.”
“'Quality of life’ matters more than life itself.”
“Some lives aren’t worth living.”

Unless consciously overridden, these ideas trigger a secular worldview by default – even among those who wear the Christian label.

The result? Flawed moral reasoning.

The results can be deadly, as Grandpa discovered.

Christian morality begins with the question, “What does God say about this?” The secular culture first asks, “How do you feel about that?”

Trying to decide whether Grandpa gets fed by asking, “How do I feel about that?” is like trying to drop a moral plumb line onto a deck that’s pitching and tossing on waves of emotion.

It won’t work.

As Christians, our moral reasoning begins with the truth revealed by God. And our moral plumb line drops straight from one level (“What does God say?”) to the next (“What does the Church teach?”), defining the scope of our solutions.

“Solutions” incompatible with God’s teachings get dumped out of the “solutions” bucket from the start, before we ever ask ourselves, “How do I feel about that?”

Ironically, Catholics who reject the moral teachings of the Church miss one of God’s great mercies it’s precisely those teachings that offer clarity, direction, and peace about how God wants us to act.

So, starving Grandpa is not an option. Pope John Paul II put it this way: “Water and food, even when provided by artificial means, always represents a natural means of preserving life, not a medical act.”

Everyone has a worldview – from the doctors who proposed a “Do Not Feed” solution, to the utilitarian ethicists on hospital staffs, to the clerk in the hospital gift store.

Trey’s family has a worldview.

And so do you.

The question is, which one?

Someone’s life may depend on getting it right.