End of Life: A Good Death

There isn’t a right way to die, which is worth saying first, because a lot of what’s written about this suggests there is. 

What matters enormously to one person barely registers with the next. One man wants everyone in the room. Another wants the room quiet. One woman wants to know exactly how long; the next doesn’t want to be told and never asks. 

For most people, a good death means pain-free. Peaceful, not agitated. Asleep, and drifting off. 

It also tends to mean that they knew what was happening, that they had some say in it, and that the people who mattered to them were nearby. And that they were still themselves at the end rather than a patient. 

That last part is the one that gets lost. Somebody comes to the end of their life with a whole life behind them, and none of it stops being true because they’re ill. 

So, the job isn’t to give somebody a good death as anyone else would picture it. It’s to find out what theirs looks like. 

 

Palliative care and end-of-life care 

The two terms can be confusing, so it’s worth explaining them. 

The World Health Organization describes palliative care as an approach that improves the quality of life of patients, both adults and children, and their families, facing life-threatening illness. It doesn’t put a timeframe on it. 

In practice, that means easing symptoms and keeping life as good as it can be. It might start at diagnosis, or later in the course of the illness, sometimes when treatments have stopped working. It can run alongside treatment that’s still going on. People live with it for years. It doesn’t mean anyone has given up. 

Here in the UK, the General Medical Council defines patients as approaching the end of life when they are likely to die within the next twelve months. That includes those whose death is imminent, as well as people with advanced incurable conditions, extreme frailty, or a life-threatening acute crisis. Definitions vary between countries. 

End-of-life care is the more focused care given at that stage, usually when treatment is no longer working. It’s about helping someone focus on what they want to do and what they want to say, while there is time to do it. 

 

Cicely Saunders 

Dame Cicely Saunders founded St Christopher’s Hospice in 1967 and, with it, the modern hospice movement. She trained first as a nurse, later qualified as a doctor, and spent her career arguing that dying people deserved proper care rather than being left at the end of the ward. Almost everything that now counts as good palliative care started with her. 

Her idea was total pain: that suffering at the end of life is physical, psychosocial and spiritual, and that these are bound up in each other. 

Psychosocial covers everything from fear and low mood to money worries, family strain, and the loss of who someone used to be. Spiritual pain doesn’t necessarily mean religion: it’s the questions people come to at the end, about whether their life meant anything and whether they did right by the people they love. 

Analgesia helps the physical. It does nothing for the rest, and the rest is often what’s driving it. Pain is worse when someone is frightened. Fear is worse when someone is in pain. Treating one and ignoring the others doesn’t work. 

That is why care at this stage looks at the whole person and not just the illness. 

 

Capacity 

If someone has capacity, meaning they can understand a decision, weigh it up and make it for themselves, then their wishes stand. We, and the healthcare professionals involved, have to respect them. 

There are times when a family disagrees with what someone has decided or finds it hard to accept. That is understandable. But if the person has capacity, their decision is the one we follow. 

It’s why advance care planning matters. If capacity is lost later, those recorded wishes are what everyone works to. 

 

How do we decide whether to stay at home or not? 

There’s no right answer, and it’s rarely a single decision; more often it gets revisited as things change. 

It isn’t only about the unwell person. It’s about the whole family dynamic: how everyone is affected, how they are coping, and what they have to live with afterwards. 

Staying at home can certainly be supported, with the right care and the right equipment in place. What tips the balance is usually not the medical side but the practical one, particularly at night. 

The alternatives are a hospice or a nursing home, and neither is a defeat. A hospice is not only for the last few days; people often go in for a week or two to get symptoms settled and then come home again. A nursing home makes sense when the care needed is more than a house can manage, and it can be a relief. 

Wanting help is not the same as giving up. And changing your mind is allowed: what suited a month ago may not suit now. 

Whatever is decided has to feel right for the unwell person, and for the family. 

If you’re weighing it up, the GP, the district nurse or the hospice team will talk it through with you, and they will have seen every version of it before. 

 

Afterwards 

There is also the care given after someone has died, which is rarely mentioned. 

“Last Offices” is the old name for the care given after someone has died: a proper wash, their own clothes, their hair done, so that they are as presentable as possible for the family. 

Families are sometimes asked whether they’d like to be part of it. Some do and find it matters a great deal. Others would rather not, and that is an equally good answer. 

It is offered. It is never expected. 

 

Where to start 

A few things are easier done early than in a crisis. 

Talking to the GP and asking plainly what’s likely to happen and what the options are. 

Saying out loud what matters to you. Family cannot guess, and if they have to guess, they will carry it afterwards. 

Advance care planning is what it’s called when those wishes are written down: where someone wants to be, what they would want, and what they wouldn’t. It doesn’t have to be complicated, and the GP or district nurse can help with it. 

A ReSPECT form is part of that. It isn’t legally binding, but it records what matters to someone so that whoever is treating them knows their wishes. 

And the numbers written down: district nurse, out-of-hours GP, hospice. By the phone, where anyone can find them. 

This content is for information only and does not replace professional clinical advice or a formal diagnosis from a doctor. 

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