We knew his death was inevitable for a good long while before the decision came, and still, it was excruciating. Not because we weren't ready to let go. We knew we would never be ready, so, in some grim way, that just wasn't a factor. No, what we came to realize is that it was because we somehow didn't feel we were at liberty to do so. Legally, sure. But it seemed like everyone around us was pushing us to fight fight fight, and, even in such an extreme situation, peer pressure is one of the most powerful forces in nature.
But I also know that, when we finally did say the words, everyone on the care team took turns hugging us and reassuring us that we were making the right choice. I think, in retrospect, that it must have been terribly heartbreaking for them to watch our situation and know what we were thinking, and themselves not feel at liberty to give voice to what we all were thinking, too. We call them heroes for saving lives, and yet they are perhaps at their most heroic when they can't save a life, but still manage to go back to work the next day. Even more so now that it has become customary to remove the proverbial band-aid as slowly as possible.
I think that our only real regret is that we didn't let him go sooner, and instead stupidly, futilely let things drag out long past the point where it could do him or anyone else any good. I think about that a lot, now. And I make sure that the people who might some day have to make end of life care decisions for me know how much I think about it. Perhaps, when the time comes, it will help to fractionally reduce the amount of anguish they experience as they take care of me. I certainly hope so.
And I think that the time to talk to your loved ones about these things is now. It's comforting to think that end of life care only happens to old people, but it can happen to anyone at any age.