The end of life rally: terminal lucidity

By Debbie-Moore-Black, RN

Granny Rachel, my husband’s mother, was an old country soul. She was a simple lady who loved the Lord.

She accepted me with open arms, when my own parents turned their backs on me.
Granny Rachel made the best sweet tea. The best homemade vegetable soup with corn bread and gave unconditional love to all.

She totaled 2 of her cars twice. Her son would check on her and found multiple candles lit in her house. She left the tub on until it overflowed with water.

Rachel could no longer be independent.
We relocated her to an assisted living center. An almost 5 star-like hotel. Happy, friendly people, and Rachel found a new best friend, her roommate, Sally. They giggled and laughed together over silly things.

After 2 years at the Assisted living center, at the age of 89, Rachel started to deteriorate. Her CHF, her COPD from years of working in a mill in the south where there was pollution and no filters, destroyed her lungs. Brown lung disease.

Granny Rachel was dying. She let out agonal breaths. At any time, we thought, this was it.
It was the grande finale. My husband, and our son and myself gathered around her.
We held her hand and waited for
granny Rachel to let out her last breath.
My son opened up the Bible as he read: “Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death…..
And then we heard a course whisper. From Granny as she recited: “I will fear no evil; for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff: they comfort me”

Beyond disbelief, some type of chills ran through our bodies …. For one lucid minute, granny Rachel was with us. She was here to let us know she was traveling through the tunnel to eternity.

My mother. Colon cancer with mets to her lungs. Her brain. We did vigils at her house. Us daughters. We took turns watching her and caring for her with the assistance of hospice.
She would slip in and out of consciousness.
The time had come. Her breathing had slowed down. And then she opened her eyes.
She said to us: “I see angels. Beautiful angels.”
Just as clear as could be.
And then she said: “Joe, there’s our baby Terrence”. Joe was my dad. Terrence was the baby she lost at birth many, many years ago.

Sargent Sam (Sarge) A World War 2 veteran. A father of five and a wife of over 50 years.

When it’s time to transfer out of our ICU, like a promotion; that’s a good thing. But this was a transition to our comfort care suite.

Sarge did not want to be on a ventilator with his lung cancer. He knew it was time. He just wanted his family by his side. As the technicians wheeled Sarge on his stretcher out of the ICU, Sarge, who had an incredible sense of humor, shouted out to me: “I’m going to tell my wife you tried to flirt with me!!!” And with that, I blew him a kiss. Sadness filled my heart as I knew this was it. With his entire family by his side, Sarge died comfortably 2 days later.

How do we explain this end of life rally?
Maybe we can’t. Maybe it’s their way of saying goodbye as they enter the heavens.
They are on the brink of death and they wake up. Stable, lucid, they want to talk and eat and drink.

Rallying is a hallmark pre-death sign of improvement before death.
This can last for a few moments even days. They can sit up and talk.
This rallying is also called Terminal lucidity.

Try to cherish that last goodbye.
That one last opportunity to connect with your loved one while still earthly creatures.

They are saying their last goodbyes, with love in their hearts. With peace.
And they want you to know….
All is well.

(Photo cred: Google stock)

The Orphans of COVID: Who will care for them now?

By: Debbie Moore-Black, RN

The 911 call came too late. Her daughter was 32 years old and usually quite healthy. But she refused the COVID vaccinations. She said she took her vitamins and was healthy and that “God is my pilot” and “I don’t want toxins in my body.”

Her mother knew she was running a high fever. She knew she was short of breath frequently … until…

Her 10-year-old grandson couldn’t wake his momma up in bed. “Momma, wake up!” he screamed, shaking her body relentlessly.

Then Jamarr called out to his grandma, “Momma won’t wake up.”

And 911 was called.

The medics could barely get an O2 sat. Her BP was dangerously low. O2 sat 72 percent. Shallow intermittent breathing.

Oxygen mask applied. IV started, the medics turned their emergency lights on and sped to the nearest hospital.

No beds were available.

It is a frequent scene across America. She would have to stay in the ER.

But she didn’t make it to the ER. Medics performed CPR on Maria — rapid CPR to no avail. Asystole. No respirations. No pulse. Despite CPR and IV epinephrine.

The ER physician pronounced her death. Another. Toe tagged. Bodybag.

Body loaded on top of another body in the refrigerated trailer.

Jamarr was hysterical. Screaming. Crying. “I want my momma. Momma, don’t leave me. I want to go to heaven and be with momma now.”

Until he could cry no more.

And this became the most dangerous time.

Jamarr started to act out.

He poked a scissor at his heart, so his grandma could see. At school, he threatened to pierce his heart with a pointed pencil. He’d scribble during math class pictures of him by a tree, hanging from the tree from a noose. He drew pictures of knives and blood dripping down. And he would isolate himself from other students. Non-verbal —but those drawings.
Momma left him behind. He loved his momma.

If only.

Jamarr’s teacher notified the school nurse and principal. The drawings of hanging from a noose in a tree, the knives, the blood, the non-verbal gestures. His teacher and school nurse and his principal decided to call his grandmother to come and take Jamarr to a mental health facility.

Jamarr said he just wanted to die. He just wanted to be in heaven with his mamma.

The social worker accessed Jamarr. She was strong and stoic. But not this time. When her shift was over, she let out a gut-wrenching cry for Jamarr, for the orphaned children of COVID.

A newborn baby girl was delivered by C-section while her mother was on a ventilator in the ICU. The mom was deteriorating. After three weeks, the ICU physicians had determined that this patient was not going to live and that they must take the baby by c-section before the mother died.

The baby’s father had died a week before. He had COVID also. Both were unvaccinated.

This baby girl would grow up to never know her parents.

Five children surrounded their parent’s coffins. Now five orphaned children are grieving the death of their parents.

These parents feared the vaccine more than what might become of their children.

Orphanhood as a result of COVID is a hidden global pandemic in the U.S.

Adverse childhood experiences may be low self-esteem, increased risk of substance abuse, suicide, violence, sexual abuse and exploitation, mental health problems and shorter schooling.

Per the CDC, as of October 2021, it has been estimated that over 140,000 children up to the age of 17, have lost a parent, parents or secondary caregiver due to COVID.

The orphans of COVID — who will care for them now?


Originally published on

**photo: Google stock

What really happens when the unvaccinated get sick with COVID

By: Debbie Moore-Black, RN

“My body, my rights.”

“My body is a temple.”

“I don’t want poison going into my body.”

” I’ve done my research.”

And they refuse to wear masks; they refuse to social distance. They refuse COVID vaccinations and the booster. Essentially, they spit in the face of the population that trusts in science and medical research.

The disrespect and disregard for scientists, medical doctors, RNs and respiratory therapists are astonishing.

Their support groups tout ivermectin, hydroxychloroquine and suggest that some drink iodine — any rationalization will do.

“It’s medical tyranny. Rally for freedom.”

“The masks build up my CO2.”

“They prevent me from breathing correctly.”

“They stifle my freedom.”

Let’s go through what really happens when someone gets COVID … someone who is unvaccinated and who gets severe symptoms.

What happens to the “tyranny” and stifling of one’s “freedom.” And not wanting this “toxin” to invade their body.

Sam is 42 years old. He’s done his “research” on social media. He’s in several groups.

He’s actually a leader of one of his groups online.

At one point, he wrote of the “great American hoax.” He frequently adds dangerous misinformation to the public. He’s loud and clear and a popular tribal leader.

So Sam starts experiencing shortness of breath.

He is unable to taste or smell. He gets a cough, cold, fever, nausea, vomiting, and diarrhea.

Sam is now gasping for air. His wife calls 911. His O2 sats are 84 percent.

He is rushed to his local hospital by medics. Sam deteriorates en route to the hospital, and although he had stated he didn’t want any “invasion” of a COVID vaccine, his wife says,

“Do everything.”

And the real invasion begins.

Sam is intubated emergently at the hospital. Several IVs are started. He is given IVP succinylcholine and etomidate … versed IVP.

The patient is intubated, bagged, and placed on a ventilator. His FiO2 is at 100 percent, PEEP of 12 to start. His wrists are restrained to prevent the patient from extubating himself.

An arterial line is placed into his radial artery, giving the nurses and doctors continuous BP readings and accessibility for ABGs and lab work. A central line is placed into his neck, to be exact: the tip of his SVC.

A Foley catheter is inserted into his urethra via his penis.

A rectal tube is also inserted into his rectum to catch the flow of his constant diarrhea.

His BP is dropping exponentially. His BP is 76/39. MAP is 51.

Fluid challenges have been initiated, but he doesn’t respond. So his ICU nurse is wearing goggles, gown, hair bonnet, shoe covers, N95 mask, gloves and has to “gown and glove” every time they enter the patient’s room.

The nurse now adds levophed and vasopressin drips. Remdesivir is also started. All FDA approved.

Day 2: Patient Sam is not progressing. In fact, he is deteriorating. So it will take six health care ICU nurses/CNAs/respiratory therapists to now prone the patient. The patient’s airway is of the utmost importance. We cannot lose the airway.

In synchronized rhythm, the patient is turned onto his stomach. This is supposed to help with better oxygenation, in theory. It is sometimes a last-ditch effort. For 16 to 18 hours, this position allows for better expansion of the dorsal lung regions.

Sam’s kidneys are crashing. His creatinine level is dangerously elevating. So now Sam has bought dialysis, which is another specialized nurse. The nephrologist now places a large bore vas catheter into the femoral venous/artery.

Many days have gone by in the ICU.

Sam is not responding to every possible ICU/COVID protocol and technique available.

Specialized ICU physicians, RNs and respiratory therapists are at the patient’s side in this 12-bed ICU. 24/7.

Sam has coded several times. Code Blue. Three code blues to be exact.

The majority of critically ill patients in the ICU are unvaccinated throughout our nation.

A conference is called for the wife by the ICU physician, ICU nurse, and chaplain. Frequent updates had been given to her.

But this is the grand finale.

Day 10: Sam has multi-system organ failure. Sam has thrown blood clots haphazardly to his brain. Sam is unresponsive. All organs are down.

Despite the endless life-saving events, Sam cannot be saved.

On the 10th day at 21:03, Sam is pronounced dead.

I don’t want these COVID vaccine toxins to invade my body.

My freedom.

My body. My rights.


Originally Published on