Living While Dying

Love and peace to you, now and always, and also to your family. Thank you for sharing your thoughts and experiences.

You made me cry. Good bye and good luck in your new journey, and peace to all your family.

As a death and dying researcher, your words will always influence me and my research. As a person, the same thing applies.

Thanks for posting
Nathan Heflick

I only know you through your posts, but somehow feel compelled to say something. I wish I had some great, wise, healing thing to say, but I do not. I like to think I learned lessons from the late Morrie Schwartz, like we are not just a wave that will crash on the shore and die, but we are part of the ocean, or death ends a life not a relationship, or that things are better when you know you touched someone's life. I don't know if you have heard these before or agree with any of these or if they bring you comfort. I do know that you will always be a part of the Psychology Today ocean, that I will remember your blogs, and that the things you have shared have touched my life. I wish you love and peace and I hope to live and die as well as you seem to have.

Mike

Thank you, Dr. Remmel, for your post; it is poignant. We cannot choose when we're born, but we should be able to choose when we die. I shall keep you in my thoughts.

Ethan, I so appreciate your blog here, and the sacrifice of privacy that you made to give some clarity to the process of dying. I was one of the early pioneers in the natural childbirth movement, so I understand your analogy between birth and death--and the naturalness of both.

One of the things we realized when we were trying to advocate for natural birth in the hospital setting was that the problem was more complex than simply medication or no medication. Oftentimes, because of the series of interventions that began early in the birth process(monitoring, frequent exams, inducing contractions, confining to a bed, etc), the pain meds truly became necessary. As a matter of fact, at that point, it would have been cruel to withhold them. The birth was already unnatural, and what happened at the end was the culmination of that.

I am glad you have the means that you do to end the suffering that has become unbearable. I wish that the process up to now had been kinder to you. Much much respect and understanding to you.

What a generous person. Thank you.

I admire your determination in making these decisions for yourself. I don't know you, but I know enough to say you'll be missed, and your example of strength inspires me.

Wishing you peace, Ethan.

Godspeed.

thank you for your post. you are such a courageous individual. wish you peace.

I wish you all the best for your upcoming new journey and support you completely in your decisions regarding how to proceed.

I have deeply appreciated your sharing of your experience of living with a terminal illness and your reflections about how unnatural both birth and death have become in our so-called "modern" society.

May you set off on your new journey surrounded by your loved ones, which is one of the greatest blessings - for them and for you - that one can hope for - and which is denied to so many nowdays.

Go in peace.

You set an amazing example for those of us who have been privileged to follow your journey. Thank you for sharing these insights–––I will long remember them.

Rest in peace, Dr. Remmel.

I just found your blog. Thank for sharing. I agree that success is not measured by length of time. You have fought the good fight.

Oh wow, this made me choke up.

Your blog entry is so powerful, and won't be forgotten.

Ethan,

Your sister was a teacher of mine (we keep in touch and she is important to me), and you are as well. While struggling with a will to not live, this blog made all the difference for me, and so did the connection to Frankl.

I respect you, Ethan, and I'm so glad you respect yourself and hold your dignity. Go in peace with many blessings. You are one.

May you and your family continue to support each other.

-Erin McPeck
ESM '09

I have learned a lot from reading your blog. My husband died from a heart ailment four years ago and as I was not with him when he passed away, I kept thinking how did he feel in the last days. After being in the hospital for several weeks, he decided to come home even against doctors`orders. I think he was ready to die (as he had always told me that he will die way ahead of me) and was sick and tired of all the tests and medicine.

Thank you so much for sharing your personal and universal story. Your writing is lovely.

Ethan, I know I am not the only editor at PT who has followed your blog and admired the grace and dignity with which you have faced your illness. Your courage and clear -headedness are inspiring and promise a legacy that can, hopefully, mitigate the heartbreak of your family's loss...and the loss that many others of us also feel. Thank you for having been so fearless and lucid and for instructing us all on what lies ahead.

It is clear that you have deeply loved life, and that you deeply love your partner and children. I hope you are comforted by knowing that part of your legacy will be found in their memories of your good death, your brave death, your documented-teaching death, your death chosen to spare them and yourself unnecessary pain. Your work on behalf of all of us seems as sacred and holy as any death could be.

I don't know what I wanted to say. I don't know where you are now. You've made all the difference. This is your largest self. Know that.
Blessings and Peace

Thank you, Ethan, for your clarity, honesty, and love. When each of us, in turn, face death, your courage, in life and in death, will be one of our guides. As a physician I watched people die in the hospital, sometimes feeling like we were torturing them, in the drive to stave off death. As though in denying it, death would not come, but it always did. I have heard from my patients, of their loved ones coming back, in dreams, thoughts, ways not explained by medical science. A year after my father died, one afternoon at our yearly family reunion resort, I saw my father walk by. He smiled silently, and was gone. I don't know what this means. I believe your family will feel your presence, your love, long after you are gone. May you go in peace, when you are ready, knowing you will always be loved.
Beth

I was just informed of your Blog. I am so impressed by your honesty and willingness to share such an intimate aspect of your life and death. You have helped me remember to cherish the time I have on this earth. I appreciate your perspective.
May you find comfort and peace in your journey.
Wishing the best to Grace and your family.
Sincerely,
Marti

Ethan, thank you for changing me by telling your story. if i ever get an opportunity to share my own journey towards death, i will follow your example. whatever is waiting for you on the other side, i hope you find a way of connecting with it as powerfully and sincerely as you have embraced your life and approaching death.

Ethan, thank you for changing me by telling your story. if i ever get an opportunity to share my own journey towards death, i will follow your example. whatever is waiting for you on the other side, i hope you find a way of connecting with it as powerfully and sincerely as you have embraced your life and approaching death.

Ethan,

Your strength and courage are inspiring. You leave a beautiful legacy for your children.

Wishing you the best,

Beth

Dear Ethan, Thank you for the privilege.

Dear Ethan,

I just found your blog, and as Lybi Ma stated before me, thank you for the privilege. May you have a peaceful passage.

Susan

Hoping for peace and comfort for you and your loved ones. Thank you for taking the time to write for us.

http://www.legacy.com/obituaries/bellinghamherald/obituary.aspx?n=ethan-...