Thoughts About Dying in Isolation

by Jeri Glatter

With concern about the Coronavirus playing a role to varying degrees in all of our lives, at times I find myself imagining a stark death bed scene in the hospital. I see caregivers, who had been taught to fastidiously keep a barrier between themselves and the dying person, clothed in gloves, gown, and mask surrounding the dying person. If I choose to, my thoughts can summon the most extreme and chilling version of such a death—images borrowed from a contagion-based movie. This vision includes complete isolation, walls of draped plastic, and the outline of faceless individuals in hazmat suits, accompanied by the pulsing, whooshing sound of respirators. 

I understand, due to necessity, that the number of family members and loved ones of a coronavirus patient would most likely be drastically limited or prohibited. People at the bedside would be unable to provide one of the most significant and nuanced tools for emotional communication—human touch. Skin to skin, hand to hand, lips to forehead—all of which create the exquisite intimacy and unspoken comfort of physical connection. This scene is the heartbreaking polar-opposite of doula work under normal circumstances.

In my imagining, I go even further, stepping into the role of the patient to glimpse what such a dying process would be like for them. The isolating, encumbered nature of it is quite disturbing—to be so alone, even with other beings attending. 

However, if we have taken the time and had the courage to imagine our own death, we can be better prepared should our death arrive in such an extreme way. As an end of life doula, I keep updating my vigil plan, changing details as my experience expands. I have had the luxury of being aware of, and bearing witness to, the magnificent and beautiful honoring that can accompany death. But I know that despite my plans, my death may occur without the possibility of real candles, blush-pink rose petals, and a blue and white ceramic bowl containing fresh-cut lemons. If I don’t end up having the death scene that brings me the most comfort, at least I can use guided imagery, a powerful doula tool, to reach for my imagined vigil. And so, I practice.

One of the most significant contributions doulas make is to enrich the experience of a dying person and their loved ones during a vigil. Those hours—that can expand into days—as the dying person travels through their final process of letting go are precious. It is during that time, and the preparation for it, that a doula hopes to support the family and the dying person in a way that continues or encourages the expression of meaning. The stories, memories, sacrifices, failures, successes, and even the regrets of a life bring a sense of wholeness to that time. To me, it feels like precious storytime—a time of gathering all the feelings and love the dying person has experienced and expressing them in a way that allows all those gathered to appreciate that life story as a gift.

Although we may be faced with physical space between ourselves and the dying, the spirit of this connection can continue and can transcend those limitations. Separation may be due to an illness, a medical setting, or distance created by circumstances or finances. Not all deaths are able to emit the emotion and capture the setting of a Norman Rockwell image. 

Comfort and connection can still happen—stories, memories, laughter, and love have the power to reach through physical barriers. A gloved hand, tenderly holding another can transmit love. The human voice, spoken through a mask will touch someone’s heart. Music and song can overlay medical sounds and lift up the human spirit to soar to imagined heights. Being told that in another location; a waiting room, a lobby, outdoors, or in a home that loved ones are gathering to send energy, love, prayer, or meditation can elevate a dying person’s spirits and bring them peace. 

If we cannot be at the side of the dying, let’s gather together, support one another, hold space, and offer our presence. Let’s illuminate that space with dancing candlelight, flower petals strewn, words spoken, quiet moments, music, stories, and memories. We can share this offering in a way that honors the dying person who may lay alone in isolation. We can offer our presence even at a distance through Skype or via Facetime. No matter how a person is dying, as doulas we can make a difference. And that is what we strive for in every death.