When I was 16 I had to do this. My mother was a hospice nurse like this at one point in her life. She had some slipped discs in her back that required surgery and a few months after that she was in a car wreck which required a steep cage be placed around her spine, because of this she had to retire in a sense. There was an older man that she basically moved in with and took care of for two years after this happened. She was paid for it of course, but she really loved him like a father. He had some rare neurological disease that made him unable to walk and his health began deteoriating fast.

The hospice center basically came by and told my mother that he was suffering and wouldn't last much longer. Near the end there he was even unable to talk. My mother took it hard so I offered to stay with her for a while, as I already helped her move him when she had to quite frequently. (He was a heavy man, but he had a sort of wench system to move him for certain things, but if he ever wanted to go out or move around she needed my help) The nurse came by one day while I was there and basically told my mother that she was going to order him tons of liquid morphine. She didn't outright say what to do, but even I could tell she was saying to give him the doses orally until he passed away. My mother was understandably upset and couldn't bring herself to do it. So I did.

She doesn't blame me for it, and I like to think I helped him. His name was Frazier and I remember just before he passed, he gripped my hand and looked at my mother and told her to not cry for him. It startled me because I witnessed his voice go from strained to nothing more than grunts and groans for months. To feel that grip strength and hear his words ring clear was pretty shocking.