Dad: Modern medical technology and the end of life

My dad passed away this week. He went through his own “Long Goodbye,” suffering from degenerative Parkinson’s disease for many years, rheumatoid arthritis, a massive heart attack and triple bypass, COPD, and finally dementia. He entered palliative care last Thursday and was gone by Monday evening.

The staff at the full-care facility where he lived the last few years of his life were terrific. They did everything they could to make his time there as enjoyable as possible. But watching his slow decline, from an active retiree to a passive patient, was difficult.

Modern medical technology has enabled us to keep a body alive far longer than even a few decades ago, but it hasn’t really been able to provide the quality of life that sharply defines who we are. There are important end-of-life discussions that must be held before your loved one slips into their memories; don’t keep putting them off.

The sheer number of medications my father took on a daily basis was stunning. As his mental state worsened, he often refused to take his pills, spitting them out like a child. It was both amusing and heart-wrenching at the same time. At what point does the medicine stop being beneficial?

The last technology my dad used was Facetime. It was wonderful to see him smile one last time. Physically, a great distance separated us, but emotionally, we were together again. Video chats are now taken for granted, but they are genuinely transformative technologies that were a long time coming.

I gave my dad a Chromebook when he first entered an assisted living facility over five years ago. He learned to use a Windows PC before that, but having me do remote debugging of his computer became increasingly problematic. I wrote about his experiences with a Chromebook in this column, back in July 2013. The fact that the Chromebook updated itself and didn’t require constant security updates made it the perfect computer for him. Sadly, he gradually lost interest in even playing his online card games. The last email I received from him was in early 2014.

I’m now dealing with his digital afterlife. Closing down his email accounts, posting final messages on his Facebook page, and generally ending his online presence. I’m glad I had him change his passwords several years ago so that I could prepare for this very event.

In the end, the best care my dad could get came from my mom holding his hand, whispering in his ear that his family loved him and would be fine when he was gone. No modern drugs or advanced technology, just old-school human contact.

Tilley is a professor at the Florida Institute of Technology in Melbourne. Contact him at TechnologyToday@srtilley.com.