Unequivocally, yes. That's the short answer. However, the question and answer, which those who have not experienced this dilemma would say is a "no-brainer," is much more complex to those who stare this harsh reality in the face.
Here's my story:
My struggle began as we finally were able to get my suffering father into hospice care. I'd fought doctors for quite awhile, with the help of the nurses in the nursing home who knew him well, to get him better pain relief. The attitude of the doctor, who viewed his chart, was that he slept a lot, so he wasn't in that much pain.
His body language told a different story. He'd half raise his head from the bed and slam his closed fist into his hand over and over, struggling to get out words that made no sense. He couldn't articulate his pain, but he was trying to beat it to death. Dad was a gentle man, and this behavior was desperate. The nurses knew it, and so did we, his family. After much arguing, the head nurse broke through the barrier with the doctor in charge, and we signed the papers for hospice care.
The dilemma: Mom and Dad, by this time, shared a room in the nursing home. For many years, they'd had private rooms in on the same floor, but the end was near for both, they were dealing with impending death, and we felt they needed to be together for the transition (also, their money was nearly gone from the nursing home expense).
I didn't want Mom to be told Dad was going on hospice care, as I knew she'd immediately think "death." After all, that is what hospice care does – help people live comfortably while they die. But, I knew this news would be horrible for mom, who was suffering much physical pain, as well as dementia, to bear. So, I wanted to keep the facts quiet.
The hospice people kindly, but firmly, said no. Their chaplain would handle it. Mom was to be included in the care they offered. And, of course, they were right. It was painful, but these wonderful people walked us through it. I continued to walk Mom through it daily, as she kept forgetting that Dad was on hospice. Eventually, it didn't matter. She just didn't think about it as hospice, as she loved the extra attention they both got.
Then came the death watch for Dad. I asked her if she wanted us to scoot their beds together. She said no. I asked if she wanted to sit near him, in her wheelchair. She said no. She wanted the curtain between them drawn. We respected her wishes, which we recognized as denial.