I have attended to many deaths in my short career as a nurse. I guess that is the
             hardest part of geriatric nursing. I remember one man in particular, Joe*.
             He was a veteran of World War II, and a retired mechanic. He was nearly 90 when I
             met him. His beloved wife of 45 years, Sara, had died only months earlier. He was
             diagnosed with Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease (COPD). In this disease, the
             lungs lose their elasticity and begin to fill up with fluid. Eventually, a person will
             literally drown in his or her own secretions. It is slow and sometimes very painful for a
             Taking report from the off-going nurse, I was not surprised to hear that Joe was
             taking a turn for the worse. The physician had been called earlier and ordered some
             Morphine to ease his pain. The unspoken thoughts exchanged between us had been the
             same, "This is it". As I prepared for the long night ahead, I looked over Joe's chart. He
             was listed as a "DNR-Do Not Resuscitate". His wishes were to die without any
             *All names have all been changed to protect privacy
             life extenting means, only comfort measures to ease his pain. He had listed only one son
             as a relative. I proceeded to call his son, Jack, to inform him of his father's change in
             condition. As a nurse, this is especially hard to handle. Most often, you expect families
             to react in grief and sorrow. Sometimes, you encounter a cold, uncaring individual who
             does not want to be bothered. Fortunately, Joe's son was very concerned. He had
             planned his usual weekend visit, but, considering this news, would be up as soon as
             possible. Hanging up the phone, I felt glad that Joe would be with his family. So many
             As I made rounds, I could hear the familiar sounds of the night in a nur
             ...