Bill didn't last long once a doctor finally approved him for hospice (a previous doctor several weeks prior stated he wasn't close to dying although he was already showing signs of his body shutting down).
When he finally went on hospice it was not only easier for me but for Bill as well. They could provide the trained help that he needed and that I wasn't able to give him. They also gave him his dignity back. He didn't want me cleaning him up. And he got to stay at home.
The last night I kissed him good night (really goodbye), told him it was okay to go, that his Mom was waiting for him. I prayed that he could hear me. He died in his sleep soon after.

One thing I realized was that I picked up on things being wrong a decade before the doctors did. They saw what he wanted them to see while I saw what was really happening. I doubt if it would have made a difference in the long run. Even at the end the one doctor (and our family doctor) was reluctant to certify him as eligible for hospice. My daughter requested a re-evaluation and a different hospice doctor. This time within hours he was provided with things to make him more comfortable and pain free. He should have been on hospice in September rather than December. I should have demanded the doctors really look at him.