(This is the end of the story that inspired the blog I wrote titled "The "H" Word)

Getting Arthur comfortable was more work than I anticipated. He cried out for help more often than I wanted. The liquid morphine was not doing enough. The Hospice nurse came out and assessed him this morning. She called the doctor, who ordered a Fentanyl patch, Valium, and Xanax. When I came by to see him this afternoon, those medications had not arrived yet. Arthur was moaning and calling for his mother. I called the Home Infusion Pharmacy and spoke to my friend, Pete. He checked on the status of the doctor’s orders, and then drove the medications out to the house himself. Pete is not one of the pharmacy drivers; he is a pharmacy tech and a caring human being.

I instructed the caregivers in crushing the Valium, putting it in water, and using a dropper to place the liquid concoction under Arthur’s tongue. It is very vascular there, insuring fairly quick absorption of the medication, and decreasing the chances that he would choke on it.

By the time I left, an hour and a half later, Arthur was finally comfortable. I had shown the caregivers where to place the pain patch. We also gave him a full dose of morphine; his son has been giving him a quarter of the full dose because he believed, mistakenly, that “he’s not really having pain.” I instructed the caregivers again about how much morphine to give and how often. We repositioned him, put on a clean gown, and straightened up his sheets. I hugged Cathy and Theresa, the caregivers, and left.

Now, some 3 hours later, I received the call I was waiting for: Arthur is gone. His pain and suffering are over. Cathy and I cried on the phone. I will not go back to the house as I have already said my goodbyes. The Hospice nurse is on her way to assist the family with the final arrangements.

I am grateful that I was able to play some small part in the end of his life. I am also drained, and sad, and in need of some rest. Some thoughts have been going through my head for the past few days. I would like to share them with you:

*If you’re living with terminal illness, make plans for your death, and then live your life to the fullest.
*If you’re healthy, and death is not even on the radar screen, live your life as if your tomorrows might not happen, because they might not.
*If you love someone, tell them, you may not have another chance.
*If you are grateful for some small kindness, say thank you, then pay it forward.
*If things are not right between you and someone you love, do what you have to to fix it; if you can’t, find peace with what has to be.
*If you are afraid of loving, love anyway. To love and lose is sad, to never take a chance on love is a tragedy.
*If you are apart from the one you love, pull them into your arms. Being apart is painful; never being together is unbearable.
*If you want to do or say something important to a loved one, do or say it. The consequences should not predicate the expression of one’s feelings.

*Live with caution. Love with abandon.
*Open your heart to the joy in this world.
*If you find love, you will find life.

To my Arthur: via con Dios, mi amor!
To the rest of you: Live, Love, Laugh! It’s all we have.

I wish you peace of mind, joy, and, most of all, no regrets!