About a year into his job as an interfaith chaplain at Tampa General Hospital in Tampa, Fla., J.S. Park began to have what he calls "really awful death anxiety."
"I saw all the ways people could be injured, especially working at a trauma center," he says.
When he was around his wife and kids, he'd think, "this could be the last time that I get to hear their laughter and see their faces like this," he says.
Over time, that "death anxiety" transformed into something else: an appreciation for the present moment, says Park, who often writes about this topic on his Instagram. "When death is on the forefront of your mind, it's almost like life gains this richer texture."
Death is often an uncomfortable and even shocking topic for many people. But in his 10 years as a hospital chaplain — a job that Park describes as "a cross between a priest and a therapist" — he's learned that talking about it can help prepare us for the reality that "it could happen, at any moment, to any of us."
Park, author of As Long As You Need: Permission to Grieve, talks to Life Kit about what dying actually looks like — and what Hollywood gets wrong about a patient's final moments. This interview has been edited for length and clarity.
We all die, but nobody wants to talk about the dying process. Why is that?
Dying is scary. This particular thing happens with my patients and their families when someone is facing a hard diagnosis. A family member or a healthcare worker will jump in and say, "this happened for a reason" or "everything will be all right."
It used to enrage me when I heard those platitudes. They were glossing over this person's suffering, their illness, their fear.
It still makes me angry, but over time, [I've learned that] underneath [those one-liners] is existential panic. The entire room is faced with their frailty and mortality, the terror that we all die and we're all headed toward this void. That fear of death is what causes us to say those strange, awkward, inappropriate things.
What should we expect to see when visiting a loved one who is dying?
One of the things that families are shocked by is the sound of their loved one's breathing. It sounds like gasping because it is. The body is trying to pull in as much oxygen as it can to keep living even though it is dying.
And if they're intubated or getting a procedure, it's natural [for their bodies to] fight. The body is defending itself. So a starting point [for me as a chaplain] is to talk about how resilient the body is, [how it is] pushing back against all these medical measures.
There's a guilt that comes up because so many families see that and think, this is hurting them. Should I keep doing this?
That's a voice worth listening to. Sometimes it means, yes, we want this person to be comfortable, we should stop.
What else should we expect to see in the very final stages?
When someone is in a hospital for hours, days, weeks, that person can't keep up with their hygiene or exercise.
If you see a loved one who you haven't seen in a long time and they've been in the hospital for even just a little while, there will be a certain amount of what looks like deterioration. It's almost like your body is trying on death before it dies.
Let's talk about conversations while a person is dying. Sometimes movies show these big moments where you go and make amends with somebody. How likely is it to have a moment like that?
It is so rare to know you're having a last conversation with someone where both of you are awake and aware. People, as they're dying, can be kept alive by life support, but they're no longer conscious.
So I always tell [the families of the patients] that anything you want to say, you can say to them now. It's important that as they're dying, we tell them everything we always wanted to. They may not be able to reply, but we believe maybe they can still hear.
One of my best friends, John, died six years ago. I didn't know if he could hear me or not, but I still spoke to him and talked to him about my day. I want to believe he heard everything I had to say. That was my final conversation with him.
What are some ways that friends and family can support someone who is dying?
Everyone has a specific way in which they [want to] be emotionally tended to. The important thing is that we don't burden a person who's hurting with something we think they're going to need or by asking so many questions.
The text that I feel most bothered by is "hey, if you need anything, let me know" or "hey, how are you doing?" It puts the burden on me to have to try to appease this person's curiosity.
But if someone texts me and they're like, "hey, I can bring you dinner?" That for me is what I like.
What are some ways to start thinking about dying and death without obsessing about it?
Probably the best way is to start making decisions around what death looks like [for you].
What do I want to do with all my stuff? What are my wishes if I end up on life support? How would I want to die if I end up in a hospital or under a care team?
I've had patients write in their living will: Put pictures of my family all around me as I'm dying. Have my dog come in to say goodbye, so they know that I'm dying.
These little moments of autonomy are what brings comfort and consolation in death, and that affords some dignity for us. And it's important to have those discussions sooner rather than later.
The digital story was edited by Meghan Keane, with art direction by Beck Harlan. We'd love to hear from you. Leave us a voicemail at 202-216-9823, or email us at LifeKit@npr.org.
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