November 2010
My mum's youngest brother died from prostate cancer sometime in November 2010.
When he was first diagnosed initially with early stage prostate cancer, either he was not told specifically the consequences of inappropriate treatment or he had misunderstood.
When the cancer spread, he sought treatment at a private hospital as the family felt that he could receive better treatment there. However, despite chemotherapy, the cancer continued to spread.
One of his daughters asked me about alternative treatments, but for some reason my uncle held back. I had told him about the ayurveda herbal brews that I am taking as well as a doctor at the Thong Chai Free Medical Clinic. This particular specializes in treating cancer patients and also has his own clinic elsewhere where he charged a consultation fee. It is for those who could afford to pay and who did not like to wait in the long queue at Thong Chai Medical Clinic.
By the time, my uncle decided that he needed alternative treatment, it was actually too late. He was already in pain and had difficulty walking. My uncle had chosen to see the tcm doctor at his clinic as he was also recommended by one of his friends. After a few doses, his condition still could not be stabilized. The tcm doctor told him, "then there is nothing I can do for you".
Following that, my uncle asked to see the ayurveda master. I could not recall how many weekly doses, he went for, but he could not be saved.
One must remember that alternative medicine is not a miracle cure. That it takes time, and that the earlier one starts on traditional herbal brews, the chances of survival is better, especially before submitting oneself to chemo and radiotherapy.
Showing posts with label death. Show all posts
Showing posts with label death. Show all posts
Friday, 19 November 2010
Friday, 1 May 2009
Living well, leaving well
The May issue of Lifestyle magazine has a very interesting article, 'Saying Goodbye'.
Enclosed is also a CD entitled, 'Living Well, Leaving Well'. I had wanted to load the CD on youtube but I realised that it is too long - 48 minutes. There are a lot of segments that could be cut - well, I have to put this till later, if and when I figure out how to do it.
They also have a website which I highly recommend : www.lifebeforedeath.sg
I have been wanting to write about this topic, especially since reading a letter in the papers recently about the difficulties of discussing the topic of death with a terminally ill family member.
I think this article couldn't have been published at a more opportune time. This is a project sponsored by the Lien Foundation. The whole project was very well put together and covered a lot of areas which I could not have thought of.
Enclosed is also a CD entitled, 'Living Well, Leaving Well'. I had wanted to load the CD on youtube but I realised that it is too long - 48 minutes. There are a lot of segments that could be cut - well, I have to put this till later, if and when I figure out how to do it.
They also have a website which I highly recommend : www.lifebeforedeath.sg
I have been wanting to write about this topic, especially since reading a letter in the papers recently about the difficulties of discussing the topic of death with a terminally ill family member.
I think this article couldn't have been published at a more opportune time. This is a project sponsored by the Lien Foundation. The whole project was very well put together and covered a lot of areas which I could not have thought of.
Tuesday, 28 April 2009
Last moments of a cancer patient
In Shin's blog, she had mentioned that she could not find any information detailing the last moments of a cancer patient.
I had posted a brief account of a cancer patient's last moments when I was warded in the oncology ward. I have copied that brief post here and will try to put in more details as best as I can recall.
With due respects to her and her family members, my description of her last moments is for information only and no other intentions whatsoever. In fact, I admired her fighting spirit and I hope she rests in peace.
I was transferred to the 6-bedded room on 16 Feb 2008, and this patient was in a corner bed, just next to mine. I could not see her, except for the occasional glimpses, but could only hear her, as the curtain between us was constantly kept drawn, for her privacy and probably out of consideration for the other patients.
Among the six of us in the room, the patient in bed 3 was the most critical. She was on oxygen (with a mask and not the nasal prongs).
She couldn't eat - I did not see this, but when the nurses collected the food trays, I could hear the exchange between her husband and the nurses. The nurses thought she ate, but her husband said it was the children who finished the food.
Usually during the day, she seemed better, because I did not hear any sound coming from her. But by nighttime, she would be throwing up - I could hear the retching and the commotion. This was the situation for a couple of days and nights since I was first transferred there.
On the night of 18 Feb, her condition took a turn for the worst. I heard her said she could not breathe. She was on oxygen and the ceiling fan above her head was already on full blast, but she still had problem breathing. Her husband, who happened to be with her that night, was at wits end, and asked the nurses to do something. They brought in a stand fan, but I could still hear her breathing heavily and gasping for breath.
Her struggles with her breathing went on through the night, though I did not hear her complain of pain. I assumed she was on pain killers.
Once, I had to charge my mobile phone and some of the power points near my bedhead were not working. Her husband saw this and taking my phone's charger, plugged it into one near her bedhead. Nurse saw and asked us to remove the charger, explaining that she is being monitored and has a lot of equipment and stuff being plugged in and they did not want to run the risk of having one of the plugs knocked loose.
Her relatives came to pray for her and kept advising her to 'let go'. She struggled and hung on till dawn. As the curtain was drawn, I couldn't see but I could hear her. Sometimes, there would be moments of silence, and then it would be followed by heavy breathing again. By morning, her family and relatives were all there, and her breathing had gone weaker but she was still hanging on. I was aware that she was still conscious.
Then I heard one of her male visitors telling another, that 'she's a fighter, but now, we don't want her to fight anymore.' A few minutes after this comment was made, she was gone.
In fact, when the nurses came to clean her later, I heard one of them commenting that 'she's still asphyxiating'.
I had spoken to one of her relatives and learnt that she had received treatments, but that she also had had relapses and the cancer had spread all over her body. They told me that she was also wearing a bag for her wastes. They couldn't bear to see her suffering and wanted her to let go. I also learnt that she had been warded for the last 3 weeks.
It was the first time that I had witnessed (though not by sight but by hearing) the passing of a cancer patient, and hearing her struggles throughout, I must admit that I found it very traumatic. It was also the first time that I learnt that when a cancer patient dies, no attempt at resuscitation would be made, as that would be pointless because the vital organs are all damaged.
Comparing this patient's last moments and Shin's, I would say that Shin had it easier, because her husband and other caregivers were well-prepared and well-informed. They practically had the situation under control. Perhaps, we could all learn something from that.
I had posted a brief account of a cancer patient's last moments when I was warded in the oncology ward. I have copied that brief post here and will try to put in more details as best as I can recall.
With due respects to her and her family members, my description of her last moments is for information only and no other intentions whatsoever. In fact, I admired her fighting spirit and I hope she rests in peace.
I was transferred to the 6-bedded room on 16 Feb 2008, and this patient was in a corner bed, just next to mine. I could not see her, except for the occasional glimpses, but could only hear her, as the curtain between us was constantly kept drawn, for her privacy and probably out of consideration for the other patients.
Among the six of us in the room, the patient in bed 3 was the most critical. She was on oxygen (with a mask and not the nasal prongs).
She couldn't eat - I did not see this, but when the nurses collected the food trays, I could hear the exchange between her husband and the nurses. The nurses thought she ate, but her husband said it was the children who finished the food.
Usually during the day, she seemed better, because I did not hear any sound coming from her. But by nighttime, she would be throwing up - I could hear the retching and the commotion. This was the situation for a couple of days and nights since I was first transferred there.
On the night of 18 Feb, her condition took a turn for the worst. I heard her said she could not breathe. She was on oxygen and the ceiling fan above her head was already on full blast, but she still had problem breathing. Her husband, who happened to be with her that night, was at wits end, and asked the nurses to do something. They brought in a stand fan, but I could still hear her breathing heavily and gasping for breath.
Her struggles with her breathing went on through the night, though I did not hear her complain of pain. I assumed she was on pain killers.
Once, I had to charge my mobile phone and some of the power points near my bedhead were not working. Her husband saw this and taking my phone's charger, plugged it into one near her bedhead. Nurse saw and asked us to remove the charger, explaining that she is being monitored and has a lot of equipment and stuff being plugged in and they did not want to run the risk of having one of the plugs knocked loose.
Her relatives came to pray for her and kept advising her to 'let go'. She struggled and hung on till dawn. As the curtain was drawn, I couldn't see but I could hear her. Sometimes, there would be moments of silence, and then it would be followed by heavy breathing again. By morning, her family and relatives were all there, and her breathing had gone weaker but she was still hanging on. I was aware that she was still conscious.
Then I heard one of her male visitors telling another, that 'she's a fighter, but now, we don't want her to fight anymore.' A few minutes after this comment was made, she was gone.
In fact, when the nurses came to clean her later, I heard one of them commenting that 'she's still asphyxiating'.
I had spoken to one of her relatives and learnt that she had received treatments, but that she also had had relapses and the cancer had spread all over her body. They told me that she was also wearing a bag for her wastes. They couldn't bear to see her suffering and wanted her to let go. I also learnt that she had been warded for the last 3 weeks.
It was the first time that I had witnessed (though not by sight but by hearing) the passing of a cancer patient, and hearing her struggles throughout, I must admit that I found it very traumatic. It was also the first time that I learnt that when a cancer patient dies, no attempt at resuscitation would be made, as that would be pointless because the vital organs are all damaged.
Comparing this patient's last moments and Shin's, I would say that Shin had it easier, because her husband and other caregivers were well-prepared and well-informed. They practically had the situation under control. Perhaps, we could all learn something from that.
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