What is it like to die from prostate cancer?

If you are living with progressing cancer, how can you not think of dying of your disease? As a caregiver, I also wonder what will happen and found the books Final Gifts: Understanding the Special Awareness, Needs, and Communications of the Dying and Final Journeys: A Practical Guide for Bringing Care and Comfort at the End of Life (both by Maggie Callahan) to be excellent. I'm sure I will be reading them again in the future, maybe not for many years.
Reading Moonlight's post above highlighted one of the central themes of the book, which is talking about a trip or journey. From a review of Final Gifts:
"Final Gifts is one of the most fascinating and important books I’ve ever read. It’s about the journey of dying. This insightful book was written by two hospice nurses, Maggie Callanan and Patricia Kelley, who introduce us to the unique way people communicate their imminent deaths. Usually in symbolic language, the dying will tell us when their time is near, or some will ask for help to facilitate a peaceful journey. According to Callanan and Kelley, the most common way for the dying to explain the onset of death is to talk about taking a trip, like my dad did. They understand what’s happening to them, but they express the next stage as a journey using a familiar mode of transport. The authors detail story after story of hospice patients who tell their families about their upcoming passages by saying, typically, they need to find their passports, or get in a ticket line, or find a map. Or like my dad, pull the car around. Expressions of movement and change characterize the stories throughout."

"Death is to life as a good nights sleep after a hard days work." Leonardo Da Vinci.

As an adult survivor of extreme childhood abuse, I grew into a suicidal teenage gang - banger then into an outlaw biker with a death wish and a very dangerous temper. Many years of counseling, university and the passage of years has changed that, but I never lost my fascination with death.

Death gives meaning to life. All living things attempt to continue living as long as they can. It is built in. That is something that we share with all else that lives. When the pain becomes too much to bear, when too many organs are failing or when we just get too tired to go on, we stop and die.

At this point in my life, I have had many family members and friends die, going back to my high school days. I know/have known many guys with prostate cancer. Those who have died usually died from something else, but not all. Last year my optometrist died from stage 4 prostate cancer, so I am real clear that it can indeed kill you, despite the buoyant P.R. propaganda around PCa.

At university in the graduate psych program, we deeply studied how the normal person deals with death and dying and what the actual experience of death feels like. While many persons have vivid hallucinatory experiences that 'take them away' from what is happening to them, the bottom line is pretty much the same: fade to black, the curtain comes down, the door closes, the lights go out and - it doesn't hurt any more, you are not afraid and you are at peace. This due to your brain dumping a bunch of 'feel-good' chemicals as it shuts down.

Ive avoided this thread as I felt the "need" to know this is counter productive and was a amiss about the multitude of responses...Having perused a view of same...it occurred to me...that life ALWAYS seems to be the most revealing aspect of death...thats a wonderful tell...

BTW two years ago when I was on a bunch of meds for pain 10-12 oxy and day, fentanyl patch 50mcg/hr baclofen 20mg, gabapentin 600mg and a few I even forgot, and thought I would not make it a few more months I made sure all my legal paperwork was in order, will, living will, letter to my wife that she is not aware of etc. etc. One never know when the exact moment we will die. But I also made peace with my God. I have since become very close to Him. I am not trying to get into that topic at all but that alone gave me alot of inner peace and comfort and does to to right now. I will just say this I know for a fact where I am going when I die, period.
I found this website last week and all I can say is thank all of you caregiver and patients who have written here. I look forward to reading almost everyday. There is a lot I don't totally understand what you write because I have not gone through that, like the surgery and infusion chemo. Again thanks, a great bunch of folks here.

I finally saw Hacksaw Ridge...

1Deadeye -- In your summary above, is uncontrolled decline the beginning of the terminal stage, or are you thinking of a phase of decline but not yet acutely terminal?

Once I'm sure I'm clear on your phases, I'll add some perspective based on what I've read and our case experience (admittedly N of 1, but still may be of value to the people who want to look forward and have or imagine more clarity about the future).

Sorry, meant to add...

Infohound, your notes tell a story. i guess I'm asking for you to flesh it out a little if that's ok.
If I interpret correctly, your "1a" was 5/12 to 11/13; and "1b" to 8/16 - so shorter for 1a than median and longer for 1b.

I suppose you are in what I've called 1c. I'm really sorry and appreciate your candour in considering sharing your experience: it's really helping me to formulate a new vision for how my life is playing out. The original plan "and they lived happily ever after to a ripe old age" has been scrubbed! Work, pension, kids, my home - all need a complete rethink and I can only do it if brave people like you are willing to pool their knowledge, experience and understanding.

So, thank you.

While I can't answer the basic question...because I've not experienced it personally....I can comment from the viewpoint of an observer. My father died of advanced PC in 2004. I don't know that I can say what exact drugs he was on, either for the years of stable disease or at the end, here are some things I did see:

During the years of HT (and I suspect this was the years before Lupron, he mentioned "synthetic estrogen"), I did see a decline in mental faculties and acuity. "Vague" was a term I recall using. And he had NEVER been vague.

In April/May of 2004, he had a fall, and developed lower back pain. Diagnostically, nothing was found--the diagnosis was a 'bruised tailbone'. However, we know now that it was the beginning of spinal metastases. Through the summer, the back pain persisted and gradually got to the point that medical insight was sought, and wound up with a spinal cancer diagnosis in mid-August.

In mid-September, the determination was made that nothing more could be done medically, and he was placed in Hospice care at home, with a 24 hour aide and daily visits by a NP. He passed on October 17.

As far as what it was like? As the observing son who was far enough away that I didn't see the daily action, I note that he lived the caring, thoughtful life that I had always seen until the spinal diagnosis was made. In the last weeks, he wanted to see his three granddaughters (and we made that happen). A significant moment happened when all of us were there at the house, and he wanted to get out of bed and talk about final arrangements. The aide got him into the wheelchair, and we all sat together in the family room, and discussed what he wanted. We went through the documents--the DNR order, the powers of attorney, found the cemetery deed, understood what was coming. He was lucid until the last 24 hours, when he was on the morphine wave and slept for 18 hours.

We knew...from the hospice nurse...that in her experience, when he would need morphine for the pain, that the last 24-48 hours was at hand. And she was right.