Archive for Death Certificate

Facts (and Lies) On Death Certificates

causes of death How about a few thoughts on one of the most (least) popular items on your after-death to-do list?

Death certificates are among the most dismal of reading materials. But they are essential for the “business” after a loved one’s death. Since it takes time to order and acquire certificates, it’s better to purchase multiple copies. Tucking several extras into a file is likely better than scrambling to request more in the future.

On a practical note, the mortuary will probably handle the death certificate. Depending on the county, prices for certificates run the gamut from cheap to are-you-kidding! expensive. In the United States, official copies are obtained from a county clerk’s office*.

Insurance companies, banks, and similar institutions requiring proof of death frequently want the legal certificate issued with the county’s seal. However, with my parents’ estate, the companies that requested an official certificate versus those only needing a copy were never predictable. Read More →

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Dementia and Other Terrible Dragons We Can’t Slay

What caused Dad’s death?

I don’t think I will ever know for sure.

Nonetheless, it’s a question that randomly nudges me during my hospice’s Interdisciplinary Group (IDG) as we discuss our patient’s recent deaths.

I know when my father died: the sixth day of February, in 2012. I know where he died: at the care facility where he spent his final two years. Or the where of his death could be identified as a particular town within Sacramento’s metropolitan area. I once knew his street address and room number. I still know the zip code of where he died, since it was the same one he’d had when living at his suburban home of forty-plus years.

How did he die? His death certificate had a heart-related cause of death. How could Dad’s death not involve his heart? At ninety-plus, the hard-working muscle in the middle of his chest must have been exhausted after all those decades. But on dreary days in long meetings, I wonder if dementia murdered him. Yep, I wrote murder. How foolish and melodramatic! But with dementia’s reputation for cruelty and relentlessness, didn’t it destroy Dad’s life as if wielding a thousand, or hundred thousand, paper cuts? At first dementia’s intent and weapons were overlooked, but each cruel, insubstantial slice lead to his demise.

Dad had an ample supply of stubborn in his DNA. He avoided doctors like black cats or sidewalk cracks. Only one neurologist examined him. That brief, awkward visit occurred well after dementia (along with a cranky knee, hearing loss, prostate problems, and a legion of other lesser ills) had its hooks into him. With little enthusiasm, the physician prescribed additional medication and appeared relieved when we departed. Read More →

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