What caused my father’s death?
I know when he died. It was the sixth day of February, in the year of our Lord, 2012. I know where he died: on his bed in his room at the care facility where he spent his final two years. Or the where of his death could be identified as a town within Sacramento’s metropolitan area. I knew his room number. I knew his zip code.
How did he die? My mother read the death certificate to me and I recall the hospice doctor (or a nameless bureaucrat from the coroner’s office) listed the cause as “heart related.” But on random dreary days, when I’m in a bad or odd mood, I continue to wonder if dementia murdered him. Yep, I wrote murder. What a foolish and melodramatic suggestion. But didn’t the disease target him? And then, since dementia is renowned for cruelty and relentlessness, it destroyed Dad’s life as if with a thousand, or hundred thousand, paper cuts? At first dementia’s intent and weapons went unnoticed, but each insubstantial slice led to his inevitable demise.
Long before dementia, Dad could be stubborn. He avoided doctors like black cats or cracks in the sidewalk. Only one neurologist examined him. Dad’s first visit also represented his only visit. That brief, awkward experience occurred long after dementia (and a cranky knee, hearing loss, prostate problems and a host of other lesser ills) had its hooks into Dad. With little enthusiasm, the physician prescribed additional medication. He seemed relieved when his office door closed behind my parents and me.
Which dementia stalked him? Not Alzheimer’s. Enough is known about that form of dementia—in 2020, it ranked as the seventh leading cause of death—to eliminate it as the prime suspect.
I’ve read about dementia, during and after Dad’s death. That one neurologist alluded to Lewy Bodies dementia, but without much conviction. What of vascular dementia? Given some of my father’s symptoms I liked (though I didn’t really like) the details of that disease. While meeting with hospice colleagues where I once worked, I learned about Pick’s Disease. One of our patients had that specific dementia diagnosis. Yes, it could be Pick’s that killed Dad! But I’m not sure. With my ignorant, non-medical eyes, I’ve reviewed Lewy and vascular and Pick’s and more. All of them were suspicious, but the evidence remains insufficient to “arrest” any of them.
Will I ever know the culprit? I doubt it.
Indeed, quite a few families—whether under hospice care or not—will never know the exact cause of a loved one’s death. Some will, since the information about many cancers is quite precise. There’s also the obvious stumbling over a steep cliff or being one of the 42,915 people who died in a vehicular accident in 2021.
During my ministry in churches and hospice, there were numerous examples of a spouse dying and then, soon after, the surviving spouse died. Regardless of what any official document reported, many families concluded the second spouse succumbed to a broken heart. A broken heart is never listed as an option for a cause of death. But don’t try telling that to some folks.
Many of us who grieve will never know. Not really. But the cause of death is never as important as the course of life. What can I do today to cause life, for myself, for others?
That, I can answer in the here and now.
+ + + + +
My book, A Companion for the Hospice Journey, is available at Amazon.