What is it like to die? University of Minnesota’s VR experience offers some answers.

When the University of Minnesota offered to let me experience what it’s like to die, naturally I said yes.

Aren’t we all morbidly curious about the undiscovered country, as Hamlet put it, from which no traveler returns?

Except this time, happily, I would get to return because it would be a virtual death, an experience in a VR studio that’s part of the university’s Health Sciences Library system.

The dying experience is part of a series of VR simulations developed by a nine-year-old California-based company called Embodied Labs.

They’ve created immersive, first-person experiences of what it’s like to have dementia, Alzheimer’s or Parkinson disease, vision or hearing loss, to be socially isolated or to experience aging as a LGBTQ person. And what it’s like to die.

Admittedly, these experiences don’t sound as fun as using VR to play a video game or pilot a jet plane. Instead, the simulations are designed as training tools to foster empathy and understanding for caregivers of older adults.

At the University of Minnesota, medical school students have been using an Embodied Labs experience to understand the perspective of a woman named Beatriz, dealing with frustrations, confusion and family dynamics as she experiences advancing stages of Alzheimer’s.

“They feel frustrated and annoyed that they’re treated like a child,” said Janet McGee, an instructor at the Mortuary Science program, of the students who experience the Alfred Lab.

McGee said the outcome for students may be better empathetic listening skills, which will be useful when they do funeral arrangements for clients with age-related perception issues.

I’m not sure if I’ll be a caregiver, or if I’ll experience Alzheimer’s or macular degeneration myself.

But I do know that someday I’m going to die. Which is why I wanted to try the end-of-life Embodied Labs experience called the Clay Lab.

You take on the role of a 66-year-old man named Clay Crowder, coming to terms with the reality of a stage IV terminal lung cancer diagnosis.

“That one is intense,” said Carrie Shaw, Embodied Labs CEO and founder. “We wanted to portray what active dying is like.”

The experience includes one scene where your wife and daughter are taking you to a doctor’s appointment.

“I’m afraid it’s not good news,” says an oncologist. “The latest scan that was repeated unfortunately did not look good.”

My daughter is in denial. “You’re going to repeat the treatments, correct?”

But the doctor says continuing treatments will likely do more harm than good. She gently guides us to accept that palliative care is the best option now.

For a brief period, my skin becomes transparent and I see my struggling organs and my ribcage moving as I’m panting in discomfort. If I hold up my hands, my fingertips look bluish. But I get some pain medication and my breathing and heart rate ease.

I look around the bedroom in my home. My loved ones are gathered around me, watching me intently but sadly. I hear them talking about diapers, catheters and the rattling secretions from my lungs.

A hospice nurse recommends against giving me a feeding tube, which will get in the way of the “natural process” of my journey.

“At this stage, he’s really not hungry,” she says of me.

I fade in and out of consciousness.

My daughters remark about how cold my body feels. Then at one point, the hospice nurse sends for my wife in the room because “it’s time.”

“Have you told him that it’s all right for him to go?” she asks everyone.

One of my daughters is tearfully reading aloud from a poem as my vision fades. Then everything disappears, and all I see is a bird — a blue heron, I think — flying away toward a white light. I didn’t create these images in my head; they’re all part of the VR program.

“Our intent, from an emotional standpoint, was to give some space,” Shaw said of that scene.

Next, the VR program shifts my perspective. I seem to be floating somewhere near the ceiling of the room. I’m looking down on my own body. My loved ones give me final hugs and kisses. I can hear the caregivers talking to me.

McGee said she could see the Clay VR experience being used by mortuary science students because morticians see the need to collaborate with end-of-life caregivers.

“I don’t think a lot about death,” said Ryn Gagen, a 29-year-old medical school librarian. But trying out the Clay experience made Gagen empathize and wonder about the loved ones and caregivers who might be by their side at the end of life.

“I think about me in the future in that situation,” Gagen said. “I should think about what I want to happen, what I want around me.”

I had a similar reaction. When I went through the Embodied Labs experience, I was struck and saddened by the silent, miserable faces staring at me.

In real life (or death), I think I’d like a television in the room, with some of my favorite movies playing. Maybe “Casablanca” or “The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance.” Or a couple of lighthearted Ernst Lubitsch comedies like “To Be or Not to Be” or “Ninotchka.”

Even if I wasn’t always awake to appreciate it, at least it would give those around me something pleasant to do while they were waiting.

Seeing my future dead self has also prompted me to take a continuing education class to finally write a will. As Hamlet also said, when it comes to death, the readiness is all.

Shaw said her company grew out of her background being a caregiver for her mother, who suffered from early-onset Alzheimer’s disease.

Shaw used tape to obscure part of the lens of a pair of safety goggles and asked other people who were caring for her mother to try them on so they could understand the vision problems her mother was having.

Shaw, who studied biomedical visualization and game development at the University of Illinois Chicago, said the videos with real people have greater impact for the viewers than computer-generated scenes. The goal is to remind caregivers that they’re dealing with a person, not just a disease.

The VR experiences feature videos showing real people — actors portraying relatives and caregivers — interacting with users, not computer-generated imagery or animations.