My Husband’s Death Showed How Medical Supplies Are Wasted
You don’t need to be affected by coronavirus to see how inefficient the system is.
Nothing to spare.
Photographer: Miguel Medina/AFP/Getty Images
A few weeks before my husband died on March 7 at the age of 55, the oxygen arrived: a concentrator for everyday use and a backup tank in case of an emergency. That Barry had never struggled to breathe in the 10 months since being diagnosed with cancer didn’t seem to matter. Once he went into hospice, our living room was stuffed with pieces of equipment, a cornucopia of drugs, diapers, wipes, gloves, masks and whatever else the agency felt he needed to die comfortably at home.
Unfortunately, what he really needed was a level of pain relief that pills couldn’t provide, and care from professionals who could move him without damaging his brittle bones. So my husband spent most of his final days in a single room in the hospital that serves our neighborhood in Brooklyn before leaving to die peacefully at home.