Bring Me A Coke When I'm Dying

And no, Pepsi is not the same.

Over the past year, I’ve had the privilege of visiting a patient on hospice, as a weekly companion. She died this week in her 90s.

She was confined to bed in an assisted living facility for the entire time I knew her. At first, she was able to eat, drink, and communicate clearly. She told me about the “gourmet club” that she and her husband used to host in rotation with several of their friends from church. Her daughter once told me that “gourmet” was a stretch, and I loved that.

As a gourmand, she expressed a lot of “feedback” about the food that was delivered to her at meal times in the facility. Just on appearance alone, I couldn’t disagree with her reviews.

I imagine her life before when she was healthy: table cloths, beautiful dinnerware and tea cups with saucers, fancy things - the way I experienced my grandmothers. 

Sometimes when I visited, she would ask me to make a hot coffee or tea for her. She had a Keurig right there in her room, but no way to access it unless someone was there to do it for her. When I would hand her the cup of hot liquid, she would cradle it, close her eyes and take the first sip. I would ask her if it was okay, worried about the hot temp, and she would smile and say something like, “mmmm yes, wonderful.” I was grateful to help her with this simple pleasure and nourishment. 

When I first started seeing her, she often had a plastic cup with ice and Coke delivered to her with her meals. She would ask me for a refill or for a fresh one if the one there had been sitting for a while. Easy request, you’d think. I would go to the dining area and help myself to the components - fresh cup, ice, Coke from the fountain. But the ice was frequently empty or there were no clean cups at hand. I would find a staff person to help, something I might not have done for myself, but for my dying friend, I was willing.

Over time, the fresh Coke delivery with her meals shifted and I’m not sure why. First, small cans of off-brand cola showed up on her tray. No ice, no cup, usually room temperature. Then, the cola disappeared and warm cans of off-brand ginger ale became the norm, sometimes even warm, diet off-brand ginger ale - ugh. I’m sure we can all agree these alternatives were NOT THE SAME AS a fountain Coke with ice! 

I thought a lot about her Coke, and how she could not get it on her own.

I took on “Coke with ice” as a spiritual offering. If she was awake when I visited, I’d ask if she wanted a Coke. I might not be able to offer her much physical comfort, but I could grant her request to the best of my ability, and help myself to the dining room on her behalf!  When I returned to her room with a fresh Coke, she would take the straw to her mouth, slowly, close her eyes, and sip like it was giving her life.

Even Coke can be nourishing - whether spiritually or physically.

I recall the last days of some of my other loved ones. They asked for chocolate milk shakes, Diet Coke (hi Mom!!), oatmeal cream pies. I wonder what I will want when I'm dying, and who will bring it to me. Part of my job as a death doula is to help you and your care community figure out the small details like this in your end of life journey.

In gratitude for the time I got to spend with the special lady who died this week, I had a Mexican Coke last night, bottled in glass - the very best!

In dying, in living, sometimes the simple pleasures mean simply, everything.

Cheers!

Contact me susan@mynahouse.com