Most people, young and old, are familiar with the sound of a newborn’s first cry — a natural reaction that is welcomed with joy and relief. Many, however, might be unfamiliar with the equally natural gurgling and moan-like sound of a person leaving this world.

After a decade of helping the elderly and the ill peacefully transition to death, Amy Briscoe, a Coupeville resident, has grown quite familiar with what is known as the “death rattle.”

When Connie Wolfe first heard this sound coming from her partner, Susan Johnson, she found comfort in the death doula’s knowledge that she was not in pain. Simply, it was a sign her body was shutting down and that it was no longer able to clear saliva and mucus from the back of her throat. It was time to say good-bye.

After contacting the hospice and making sure they had all they needed, Briscoe left to allow Wolfe to spend her last moments with her partner of 35 years while family and friends came to see Johnson for the last time.

Johnson died in March 2019, after about seven years of battling lung cancer. While she spent her last weeks lying on a bed with a broken hip resulting from the cancer spreading to her bones, Briscoe made her feel more comfortable and less frightened of her condition, Wolfe said.

Johnson, however, wasn’t the only one being helped through the process of dying.

“Susan is dying,” said Wolfe, recalling Briscoe’s words from over five years ago. “But death is happening to you, too.”

As part of her death doula service, Briscoe makes sure that a family’s last days, weeks or months together aren’t “riddled with day-to-day stuff.” With compassion and no sugar coating, she takes care of chores, tends patients while family members take breaks, work, run errands and live life, helps people understand and prepare for any signs of decline and imminent death, and supports families after their loved one’s passing.

Following Johnson’s death, Briscoe helped Wolfe process the grief and took care of her when she was very ill.

To Briscoe, it isn’t much different than being a birth doula.

“I’m just reversed … I’m on the dying end now. I’m helping them transfer over to whatever is left.”

Terry Kay Serpa found Briscoe’s help before and after her husband’s passing in 2022 so life-changing that she has pre-hired Briscoe for herself — a decision she included in her will.

Serpa, a 100-pound woman with no experience with elderly people, needed help taking care of her much larger and older husband with dementia who did not like other caregivers and had developed bed sores.

Much to her surprise, the bed sores disappeared under Briscoe’s care, and her husband felt comfortable enough to allow her to shower him. Serpa believes he appreciated Briscoe for not finding him intimidating like others did.

At the same time, Briscoe helped her understand and accept the aging and death process.

When a patient’s feet and hands turn blue, that is typically a sign their blood is no longer reaching those areas and the body is shutting down. Typically, Briscoe said, a person in this state has likely 24 to 48 hours left. Most of the time, patients in that stage are already comatose. If they are awake, she will give them a heads up.

The last sense to go in a dying body is hearing, Briscoe said. For this reason, while she takes care of patients as their bodies shut down, she speaks words of appreciation and kindness.

After informing Serpa that her husband’s life was coming to an end, Briscoe stepped away to give them some privacy. Art Serpa passed in his wife’s arms, lulled by the sound of her singing and their favorite songs.

In some instances, a patient might appear completely fine one day and end up comatose the next. This is also normal, Briscoe said.

Either way, thanks to medication, dying doesn’t physically hurt. For some patients, it can be hard to accept. But most of Briscoe’s patients have plenty of time to come to terms with the fact they reached the point of no return, she said.

Death looks different for everyone, and so do their beliefs and wishes.

Whenever she introduces herself to a new patient, Briscoe asks them what they want their final chapter in life and the aftermath to look like. Her opinion, religion and political beliefs are irrelevant.

“It isn’t about me,” she said. “It’s about them.”

A Buddhist client wanted her friends and family to rub her body with oil. Another client was a Freemason and asked to be buried with his Freemason regalia. Another patient, a biker, was cremated in his biker colors.

Sometimes, a person’s wishes might cause conflict in the family, requiring Briscoe to advocate for her patient. If she already discussed a plan with the patient and the significant other, it doesn’t matter what the rest of the family wants. Sometimes it’s simply about wanting to feel heard, and Briscoe offers to listen and understand.

“Sometimes, that’s grief talking,” she said. “And grief can be angry and sad.”

In their “last hurrah,” Briscoe said, it’s all about what patients want and how they want it, as long as they are able to do it.

“You want to have a party? Fine, we’ll invite everybody and we’ll have a party. You want a whiskey shot? Okay, fine, you can have a whiskey shot,” she said.

Knowing she was dying, Susan Johnson turned down her partner’s broccoli and demanded to eat Häagen-Dazs, her last meal.

Briscoe has about three decades of professional experience in caregiving, her passion since the age of 16. She didn’t like working as a licensed practical nurse in care facilities because, she said, patients don’t have the same freedom that one-on-one care would give them.

Furthermore, in the years she worked in assisted living, memory care and nursing homes, she has seen patients develop bed sores or die by themselves.

Briscoe, a San Diego native who moved to Whidbey 26 years ago, doesn’t know of other death doulas on the island, which she said has been dealing with a shortage of caregivers.

She estimates that about 10 to 15 people have died in her care since she became a death doula about 10 years ago. While some deaths can hit particularly hard, she knows right from the start that they hired her because they are dying, which makes it easier to accept the loss and bring her best self to her next patient.

Though her mother passed away after relocating to a facility in Bellevue, Jan Pickard fondly remembers Briscoe’s lightheartedness on the job, which she said could cheer up depressed elderly folks.

When patients near the end of their lives, they often look back and feel regretful. Sometimes, they get a chance to make amends. Often, it’s too late.

By witnessing this on multiple occasions, Briscoe learned a valuable life lesson.

“Don’t hesitate to have a life. Don’t wait until you are financially secure. Don’t wait until you are in better health to do it. Do what you can, when you can.”

Amy Briscoe is open to take care of patients of any age who are reaching the end of their life, and can be reached at whidbeycompassionatecare@gmail.com or called/texted at 360-632-2229.