In the Midst of Life

infection and the fever. We packed the wound with flavine gauze and antibiotic powders. We were able to supply one of the new electronic air beds which kept the left side of her body free from bedsores - she had to be nursed on her side all the time because the hip was shattered from the iliac crest in front to the coccyx at the base of the spine. Fortunately, the surgeons had inserted an indwelling catheter into her bladder whilst she was in theatre, so we did not have the nightmare of dealing with the normal urination of a patient in her condition.
    The one thing we were able to do which really did help Mrs Merton was give her the Brompton Cocktail regularly. In spite of the seriousness of the wound, Mrs Merton was surprisingly unaware of its extent, because she could not see it. She knew that something was wrong with her hip, because nurses came at frequent intervals to change the dressings, but she could not turn her frail old body to look at it. She knew that her right leg was in plaster, and we supposed that she thought this was the full extent of her injuries. Incidentally, the plastered leg had to be adjusted, and it was one of the most unnerving things I have ever seen because the exposed bone and ligaments of the pelvis moved as we repositioned the leg. It was a job I always did myself, with the help of a nurse, and I insisted that when I was not on duty, an experienced staff nurse should do it. This was a task that could not be left to a couple of inexperienced student nurses.
    What is it that we need at the end of life? Peace and love are the words that spring to mind. Weeks, or months, of gradual decline usually precede death, but then, very often, something intangible happens. It is as though body, mind and soul have been tuned differently, like tuning down a string of a violin or cello, so that the vibrations that create the inner resonances of the instrumentare altered, and the quality of sound is different. I can find no other way of describing these subtle changes that occur before death takes over. A skin change, something different in the eyes, a weariness of movements, a quieting of the mind – there are many subtle alterations that can be seen, and they are very real. And then the end is usually fairly swift. ‘Let me bide, dears,’ my grandfather had said to his daughters a few days before his death. ‘I want for nothing.’ And they allowed him to die quietly. Most dying people seem to feel the same – the Angel of Death brings peace. Harassing a dying person to return to the life they have already left is a pointless exercise, and in many instances, cruel.
    Love is not something that we receive in proportion to our merits; love is a gift of God. And I like to think that ensuring peace at the end of the day is an act of love on the part of the nursing staff. St Paul, in his Letter to the Corinthians, said that Faith, Hope and Love are the greatest of God’s gifts. I suspect that most doctors and nurses will say that faith does not play a great part in tranquillity at the hour of death, because few people mention religion or ask to see a priest. But who are we to judge? None of us knows what is going on in the mind of a dying man or woman, especially if that person is beyond articulate speech. Faith is a private matter, usually held deep within a person, quite impossible to recognise or understand if you have no faith yourself.
    There are many reports from people who have returned from a near-death experience, and they are all remarkably similar. Testimonies come from every part of the world, and in all periods of history. Without exception they speak of a profound sense of well-being, and overwhelming feelings of peace and calm. Some people have said they felt safety and comfort, and loving arms enfolding them. A woman has said she felt as though she was drowning in a deep green sea, and the depths contained an inexpressible joy and fullness of life that pulsed more strongly than it had ever done in ordinary life. Many have likened the sensation to lying on the surface of dark, smooth waters, and of being gently supported. Some people have spoken of having no will of their own, but a feeling of weakness and trust and languorous ease.There are also many reports of an enveloping darkness in which a light is shining. Some speak of a longing to reach that light, others of being led gently towards it. One man spoke of a feeling that he was floating between a black sky and a black sea, between