My OH was called three times cos his father was near the end. Twice he wasn't! (January and March). He was called again in mid May. Even so, fil didn't die for a fortnight, by which time we were on holiday! OH said it was one of his worse jobs, arranging a funeral before the person had died! But the fd, and the minister didn't bat an eyelid, they had seen it all before ( and this was 30 years ago).
I'm going through the same with my mum, 89 years old, not taking any food and somehow surviving on just a sip of 'Ensure' every now and then. Three times this year we've been 'prepared for the worst', first time during my daughter's A-level exams, second time on my 50th birthday, and again now.
I feel it's like the old analogy of someone having a gun pressed against their head, only to find it isn't loaded. I'm sure people think I'm a drama queen now, but each time I've gone through the anxiety and grief associated with bereavement, and each time I've been left with less resilience and energy than before.
How and why my mum keeps on going I don't know: this sounds so wrong, but I'm not sure how much more of this I can take. I have no siblings and my husband works away all week. My hands are permanently shaking now and I haven't slept properly for weeks. She's on my mind all the time, and every time the phone rings I think "this is it".
I experienced carer burnout (and chicken pox due to a weakened immune system) a couple of weeks ago, and as a result mum was admitted to hospital. From there, she was sent to a (notoriously poor) care home, and I've been fighting the NHS for the last two weeks to get her moved to somewhere safer and nicer. If she passes away in that awful place I will never forgive myself.
This disease is so cruel to the PWD and their families. I'm so sorry to hear that others are suffering in this way, but it kind of helps knowing that others experience the emotional rollercoaster.