I walk slowly Not because I have forgotten how to put one foot in front of the other That day will come, and I do not welcome its arrival I walk slowly Not because I am afraid to fall A few brittle bones have broken but I...

  “I want to fucking die.” There was no rage or sorrow. He was quite matter of fact; the plainest of English. I heard the level of exacerbation from someone trying to convey that he was ready to another who wasn’t dying. He...

She managed to scream “Help!” through a slur.

It was the last word he heard her utter in his isolation. He desperately called 911 after finding her limp body on their couch – the couch where they used to share life, and where he feared hers was ending.

There had been no time for EMS to gather much information as she circled the drain of death.

It’s a question I would expect to hear from a priest, but not from an elected government official. As I stood before two joint committees at my State Capitol in Hawaii, to voluntarily testify about my experience as the only physician outside of Oahu to have written a prescription during our first year of access to Medical Aid in Dying, it was clear I was being accused of killing my patient, and maybe even murder.

My friend, Bobbi Bryant, shares some of her reflections on the recent training we presented at the Life and Death Wellness Center, and the value that end-of-life doulas bring to the dying and their families.

Most love stories don’t start with a gunshot wound to the head…but this one does.

Being the only doctor in their rural emergency department for a few travel shifts meant having no team of highly-trained surgical specialists standing by like I had at the trauma center countless miles away. When the EMS call came across the radio that they were bringing in a patient with a gunshot wound by a BB gun to the head, I failed to get alarmed until I heard the actual description of the patient.

  Over four years ago, when I first entertained the idea of opening what I call my "soul home" in Oakland, Florida to the public, as a wellness center and boutique inn, I had already made the very difficult and painful...

When I wavered on taking a job assignment in an ER in a small, military town in Texas, I had this big pull inside my gut coaxing me to go. There was a grander reason than needing to fund my daughter's college fund or paying my...

Although this is my favorite, most wonderful time of year, I am keenly aware that even more grief is present for so many of us. 

On December 5th, I was telling a family I had just met in the emergency department that their father had just died despite all our best efforts. It was my first death of the holiday season.

Night had brought much restless sleep. By the time dawn came, I had been awake for hours. It was all nerves. In the past, it would have been the excited kind: to be blessed with teaching a sold-out course to a group of end-of-life doula trainees. Not this time.