Twelve days nursing my father in the ‘dying room’ taught me the value of planning for death

When there is no legally binding advance care directive in place, dying patients might receive interventionist treatments they would never have wanted had they been able to express their wishes. Illustration: Victoria Hart/Guardian design

My father spent the last 12 days of his life unconscious, unresponsive, in a hospital bed on Queensland’s Sunshine Coast.

My mother sat beside him night and day, holding his hand. I massaged Dad’s legs, horribly swollen, the effects of oedema – a buildup of fluids. His mouth fell open, dried out; I swabbed it constantly in an attempt to keep it wet. Sometimes his breath was a gurgle. My brother and I took turns sleeping on a stretcher in his room – the “dying room” was what hospital staff called it.