A few years ago, Marianne Berg became ill, which meant that she physically couldn't do as much as she used to. She therefore had to find something to do and thought that if nothing else she could sit next to someone.  

This led her to join the Watch Service at the Danish Red Cross. Here she was not supposed to make any decisions, but only to concentrate on being present. On being “a fellow human being who is just there.” 

Marianne Berg is a retired teacher and psychologist. She has been a watchman in Copenhagen for three years and was previously part of the watchman service in Aarhus before moving to Copenhagen to be closer to her children and grandchildren.  

When Marianne Berg's volunteer job as a watchman is brought up in social contexts, the reaction is typically the same: that it must either be very sad, or that she's cool for being on the watch. But for Marianne Berg, it's neither.  

"I don't think it's sad because they're not my relatives. And I think I'm doing something helpful or meaningful. The main motto of the wake is that no one should die alone if they don't want to. I mean, you don't come into life alone, and you don't have to go out of it alone either. So in that way I think I've done something sensible in those three hours I've been sitting there."  

Spreading the word 

As part of the on-call service, Marianne Berg works in hospitals, nursing homes and private homes in collaboration with home care, if that is what is needed.  

The vigilance service can be called by relatives, but it is Marianne Berg's experience that they are most often called by health professionals. As a vigilance service, you must also speak to a professional health professional, even if it is the relatives who have contacted the vigilance service. 

"There are surprisingly many people in Copenhagen who have no relatives. And if there are relatives, they are emotionally affected. Then they are not the ones who have to make that decision. Or we regularly experience that the relatives have said goodbye and do not want to be there at the end." 

Marianne Berg explains that relatives may be afraid or not want to see their loved ones in that situation.  

When Marianne Berg is on duty as a watchman, she is aware of how the person she is watching is feeling. Sometimes she puts a hand on their shoulder or holds their hand. 

"If you think that the person has changed in the way they breathe, or they start to look like they are in pain, or become restless, then of course you should know that you can pull the trigger and contact the staff," says Marianne Berg.  

In addition to her duties as a watchman, Marianne Berg gives presentations for, among other things, the Social and Health Assistant training program or at nursing homes a few times a year to spread the message about the watchman service. 

"When I'm out giving presentations, I say that you should do nothing. You should be able to be in the room with death and be in it for the three hours of the shift." 

What does it take to be on the watch? 

In the on-call service, you never know when the activity manager will send for a watchman. When Marianne Berg and the others in the on-call service receive a request, they get a description of where it is, the first name of the patient and a brief description of the course of the illness.  

For Marianne Berg, the unpredictability is something she likes about volunteering. That it's not a fixed day a week, but that in some periods she can be awake once a week and in others once a month or less.  

According to Marianne Berg, there are an average of two tasks per week in the Copenhagen team, which the activity manager distributes according to who reports back that they can take on the task, or who he thinks would be the right person for the task.  

It is rare that a watcher can talk to the person they are watching over, as the person is often asleep. When Marianne Berg is awake, she often spends her time knitting, reading a book, drinking a cup of coffee or listening to the person's breathing.  

Special situations  

For Marianne Berg, there are several situations as a watchman that have stuck. At one point, she watched over a woman with dementia in a nursing home for several days in a row.  

The woman's room was full of twinkling lights and paper flowers. The woman's son was by her side in the afternoon, and then took over the wake in the evening. One evening when Marianne Berg was to relieve her son, she asked him if his mother liked music.  

“He replied that she liked Danish top and German schlager. Then I found the lyrics to the bright red rubber boat on my phone and sang it to her. I don’t know what the staff thought. Another time there were some sons who said that their father liked German march music best, but that didn’t make me play. I could have found it on the phone, but I thought it might be a bit intense in that situation.” 

Marianne Berg also faces the task of keeping watch over a man at Rigshospitalet. Upon her arrival, she was offered coffee and marzipan bread by the nurse, and just as she had settled down next to the man she was supposed to be keeping watch over, the nurse asked her if she wanted to watch television.  

A little surprised, Marianne replied that she didn't usually watch TV when she was awake, but the nurse explained that the more homely and cozy they could make it, the better. So Marianne drank her coffee, ate marzipan bread and watched football on TV. 

"And then suddenly I could hear that he was breathing differently. So I went over to him and put my hand on his shoulder, and then he was breathing in a way that made me think that he was dead," says Marianne Berg and continues: 

"It's such a great example because the nurse tried to create that feeling that there's someone you can hear. Just like when you were a child and you could hear the adults sitting next to you talking and having fun before you went to sleep. It's very safe. He tried to make it feel homely by smelling like coffee and having football on the TV. I think that was a good experience." 

A respect for life  

During her time as a watchman, Marianne Berg has experienced five people passing away while she was watching over them. 

"You can tell if the person is here or not. Of course, that makes an impression. And it should. Then I think about the fact that it was a life that is no longer here." 

The first time Marianne Berg experienced it, she went out to eat with herself, drank a glass of wine and toasted to the person she had been watching over.  

When she watches over patients in hospitals, it is difficult to deduce anything personal about the patient, while in nursing homes you can form a greater impression of who the person is. Perhaps there are family photos hanging on the wall or books on the bookshelf. 

"You meet many human destinies, even if you only meet them in those tiny glimpses, which is three hours. So there are also many impressions of people's lives, which I also think can be enriching." 

If the person you are watching over dies during your shift, the team or activity manager in the watch service will talk to you afterwards. 

"It's nice to talk it through, so you can put it where it needs to be in your head. It shouldn't be so burdensome that you can't sleep, for example," says Marianne Berg.  

The security service also holds team meetings where they rotate security duties. According to Marianne Berg, it is important for the team to meet each other and exchange experiences, as the volunteer community also has an importance.  

But for Marianne Berg, waking up is usually a peaceful or calm experience, and what she is left with most of all is a respect for life.  

"One day it will stop, and it does for all of us. We don't know if we'll be 101 or if we'll be 50, like the last one I watched over. Or 16 years old, which is the youngest we've watched over. So you get a respect and joy from being alive. Maybe also a feeling that now I should at least enjoy life while I have it."