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Abstract

a Power of Attorney. These are tough conversations to have, but the truth is, we’re all destined to face death.We can choose to ignore or deny it, but isn’t it our responsibility to alleviate the burdens of death on our loved ones if we can?When the subject of a DNR arose, my emotions overwhelmed me. I couldn’t help but question if that’s truly what she wants, especially if her departure comes sooner than we could ever hope. Understandably, the thought of not being resuscitated at the age of 90 seems reasonable, but what if she’s still in her 60s when it happens? It feels too young to abandon all efforts to save a life.Yet, my mother exudes confidence and contentment with the belief that when her time comes, it will be the right time. Ultimately, her wishes for her own body are up to her and even if it’s hard for me to accept, I value and respect her decision (as I would want someone to do for me). As we discussed these matters, the harsh reality of her mortality hit me like a tidal wave. My eyes welled up, and a lump formed in my throat.Having an open and realistic conversation about death with the person you cherish most in the world is undoubtedly one of the hardest things to do.But it’s necessary, for both their peace of mind and your own.Between discussing Mom’s wishes and observing my grandparents in their final moments, heavily sedated with morphine to keep them comfortable, I couldn’t help but wonder about my own preferences as life’s end draws near.And that’s where psychedelics enter the picture.Regardless of how fearless one might claim to be in the face of death, there’s an undeniable vulnerability that emerges when it comes knocking at your door. It’s perfectly natural to feel nervous, even for the bravest among us. That’s precisely why I am an advocate for incorporating psychedelics into the care of the elderly.Imagine a time when, instead of relying solely on traditional medications, patients could explore the depths of their con

Options

sciousness through the guided and responsible use of psychedelics.These substances have been studied for their potential to alleviate anxiety, provide spiritual insights, and even facilitate a peaceful acceptance of mortality.If we can provide a newfound sense of solace and transcendence for those facing the end of their journey, shouldn’t it at least be explored?While morphine and similar drugs are invaluable for alleviating physical pain, they often fall short in addressing the existential and psychological burdens that accompany the dying process.Not addressing these burdens leads to ignoring the inevitable, as my grandma did, and creating insurmountable and unnecessary mountains of stress for your loved ones.Psychedelics, on the other hand, can offer a holistic approach that addresses the entire spectrum of end-of-life distress, which to me sounds more appealing than just being pumped full of drugs until I’m numb.In the end, the journey toward death is deeply personal and unique for every person. While psychedelics may not be the right choice for everyone, their potential to alleviate psychological suffering and facilitate a more peaceful transition cannot be overlooked.So, where do we start? How do we get to a point where psychedelics are being offered as a part of palliative care?Decriminalizing psychedelics and conducting further research on their therapeutic benefits is where we start. It is not only about my personal desires or those of my loved ones; it’s about offering genuine options for individuals and families navigating the profound challenges of end-of-life care.The potential impact is nothing short of transformative.So, I ask you to consider: Could psychedelics be a beneficial option for you or a cherished family member in their final chapter? Would you be open to finding peace/comfort before you pass on, or do you think this is something we already do naturally when faced with dire circumstances?</article></body>

When I Die, I Hope Psychedelics Are Part of Palliative Care

Dying people deserve every opportunity to find solace and peace.

When the time comes for me to leave this world, I have one wish: that psychedelics are available as part of palliative care. It’s a topic that might raise eyebrows or even evoke skepticism, but hear me out.

Dying people deserve every opportunity to find solace and peace amidst their fears and anxieties surrounding death.

Recently, I had a heart-to-heart conversation with my mother. We delved into a difficult subject — planning our inevitable demise. And by our, I mean hers.

She’s only 63, but when her parents passed away a few years ago, it was a chaotic affair filled with unplanned decisions and unspoken words about death until it was too late. My mom tried countless times to have the hard conversation with her own mother, who always skirted the issue and mumbled Bible verses like Jesus himself was going to plan her funeral.

Mom doesn’t want that same experience for her children, and I’m so thankful for that. I saw the stress that she and her siblings endured during the passing of both of their parents. If there’s anything I’ve ever known for certain, it’s that I don’t ever want to go through that.

For as long as I can remember, she’s lightheartedly shared her desire to be cremated and have her ashes scattered among flowers or tranquil bodies of water. Surprisingly, our wishes are quite similar in that regard.

During our conversation, we touched on topics such as a Do Not Resuscitate (DNR) order, her final wishes, the location of important documents, and the importance of establishing a Power of Attorney. These are tough conversations to have, but the truth is, we’re all destined to face death.

We can choose to ignore or deny it, but isn’t it our responsibility to alleviate the burdens of death on our loved ones if we can?

When the subject of a DNR arose, my emotions overwhelmed me. I couldn’t help but question if that’s truly what she wants, especially if her departure comes sooner than we could ever hope. Understandably, the thought of not being resuscitated at the age of 90 seems reasonable, but what if she’s still in her 60s when it happens? It feels too young to abandon all efforts to save a life.

Yet, my mother exudes confidence and contentment with the belief that when her time comes, it will be the right time. Ultimately, her wishes for her own body are up to her and even if it’s hard for me to accept, I value and respect her decision (as I would want someone to do for me). As we discussed these matters, the harsh reality of her mortality hit me like a tidal wave. My eyes welled up, and a lump formed in my throat.

Having an open and realistic conversation about death with the person you cherish most in the world is undoubtedly one of the hardest things to do.

But it’s necessary, for both their peace of mind and your own.

Between discussing Mom’s wishes and observing my grandparents in their final moments, heavily sedated with morphine to keep them comfortable, I couldn’t help but wonder about my own preferences as life’s end draws near.

And that’s where psychedelics enter the picture.

Regardless of how fearless one might claim to be in the face of death, there’s an undeniable vulnerability that emerges when it comes knocking at your door. It’s perfectly natural to feel nervous, even for the bravest among us. That’s precisely why I am an advocate for incorporating psychedelics into the care of the elderly.

Imagine a time when, instead of relying solely on traditional medications, patients could explore the depths of their consciousness through the guided and responsible use of psychedelics.

These substances have been studied for their potential to alleviate anxiety, provide spiritual insights, and even facilitate a peaceful acceptance of mortality.

If we can provide a newfound sense of solace and transcendence for those facing the end of their journey, shouldn’t it at least be explored?

While morphine and similar drugs are invaluable for alleviating physical pain, they often fall short in addressing the existential and psychological burdens that accompany the dying process.

Not addressing these burdens leads to ignoring the inevitable, as my grandma did, and creating insurmountable and unnecessary mountains of stress for your loved ones.

Psychedelics, on the other hand, can offer a holistic approach that addresses the entire spectrum of end-of-life distress, which to me sounds more appealing than just being pumped full of drugs until I’m numb.

In the end, the journey toward death is deeply personal and unique for every person. While psychedelics may not be the right choice for everyone, their potential to alleviate psychological suffering and facilitate a more peaceful transition cannot be overlooked.

So, where do we start? How do we get to a point where psychedelics are being offered as a part of palliative care?

Decriminalizing psychedelics and conducting further research on their therapeutic benefits is where we start. It is not only about my personal desires or those of my loved ones; it’s about offering genuine options for individuals and families navigating the profound challenges of end-of-life care.

The potential impact is nothing short of transformative.

So, I ask you to consider: Could psychedelics be a beneficial option for you or a cherished family member in their final chapter? Would you be open to finding peace/comfort before you pass on, or do you think this is something we already do naturally when faced with dire circumstances?