My Dad is 79 years old and had his first bout with illness when he had his first heart attack at the age of about 47, followed soon after by a stroke a year or so later. Since then he moved to FL, remarried, had open heart and vascular surgery, subsequent angioplasty, melanoma which was treated and went into remission with radiation (did I mention that he has been managing his diabetes with insulin for the last 35 years). Most recently broke his femur bone, had an acute gall bladder attack and subsequent gall bladder removal - both of which led to (or maybe all meds he takes) chronic pancreatitis, poor kidney function and more. Two weeks ago, he was in the hospital again after being found unresponsive at home and then while in the hospital went into cardiac arrest and was paddled which we thought was a lost cause ... but then doctors got a pulse after telling us they lost him. Then he was put on a respirator only to be weaned off it in under 24 hours, but now could not talk and failed a swallow test (food aspirating into lungs - which I believe may have already been an issue), probably due to the ventilator. He refused a feeding tube even temporarily and understood if he wanted to eat by mouth he would have to go home or to a hospice facility. He has now been in hospice for about 5 days and was able to eat very little the first couple of days, but he is now declining and we've been told by hospice nurses that he has started the dying process. He was of sound mind and made his own decision. We, his children, spoke to his doctor and was told defribulator and feeding tube had to be offered although he declined them both, but that his quality of life still might not be much better than what it was in the hospital and they could not promise that he would even survive 6 months. Dementia had been rearing its head for the last year, he was diagnosed with post traumatic stress disorder (from Korean War in which he fought) and after many years of health problems ailments were just racking up and causing irreversible havoc to his body. Somnewhere deep inside of me, I think he made the right decision for himself and even for us, but now watching him slip away has been very hard and leaves us time to second guess his (our) choice. He has no one thing that will take his life in an instant, he is just deteorating in front of our eyes not eating or drinking, cannot talk and becoming less and less responsive and sleeping most of the day. It is terribly sad to watch although I feel blessed to have been able to say goodbye - I only hope that it is only hard on us and that he is between life and death with no real pain or distress in the fact that he is dying. How did we really know he could not survive and would not regain any quality of life? I know that my Dad was always independent and hated help, so does that mean we should have let him give up? My Dad fought through lots of illnesses and won, and I believe he did so because he knew something good was waiting after his recovery. I like to believe this time he knew he wouldn't really be living only that his body might "function" for a while longer with the means the doctors offered to keep him going. So maybe he didn't give up, just surrendered to the inevitable with as little discomfort as possible. He didn't want to be poked and prodded any longer and could not stand being in the hospital the last few times. But, how will I ever know? It is killing me. How do I make peace with this decision, even though in the end it was not mine to make anyway? I feel that maybe he didn't understand what he was doing, although I really believe he was more clear in this moment than he had been in a long time. The longer it takes for God to take him to the next life, the more time I have to contemplate. I wish God would take him from this life and let him and his family rest in peace. The longer this process takes I think the more we will wonder "what if". Has anyone been through anything similar situation, how did you get through it? I want there to be someone to tell me this was the right thing, but I don't know if that could ever happen or if I will ever feel that way. Did I mention that I live in New York, and am now home since I have to care for my 7 year old daughter who lives with cystic fibrosis? My brother lives in FL and is with him, but it feels so unnatural to be home living my life while he is left lingering. Does anyone have some help or advice to offer me? I am so grateful I found this site, I feel better just expressing these feelings. Thanks.