Death Becoming...
I got a call from my dad today, letting me know that my uncle Teddy is in the hospital, may not live through the night. He was up to see him yesterday, and this morning apparently Ted flatlined. They revived him, but his organs are shutting down and it would seem there is little that can be done at this point.
It feels weird to consider the contrast. I was sitting on my couch tonight, quietly reading (a book about the history of death, ironically), and thinking how casual my night was. I still have so much life ahead of me, so many things to do, so many people to upset, disappoint, make laugh, arouse, etc. I am so filled with life I'm flinging it everywhere I gesticulate.
Ted, however, is laying in a hospital bed, barely able to move, attached to machines, and possibly fighting for every minute of life he has left. The fight is a losing one for all of us, but his is more than likely coming to its non-dramatic conclusion tonight, maybe tomorrow.
I imagine what it's like to be in his place. Nurses and doctors hovering around me; I wonder if I'd be aware that rather than make me better or cure me of my ills, they are simply trying to make me comfortable so my exit is a peaceful and painless one. I wonder just how coherent my thoughts would be? Would I be with it enough to tell people to stop wasting prayers on an atheist, to tell them I really don't care if "God" loves me?
Or would I just lie there in that tense repose, going crazy from listening to my own heart beeping at me through a monitor?
It's probably been a few years since I last saw my uncle Ted. I frankly don't have a lot of memories of him. But I'll miss him nonetheless, as I would the loss of any of my family, keys to my past.
It feels weird to consider the contrast. I was sitting on my couch tonight, quietly reading (a book about the history of death, ironically), and thinking how casual my night was. I still have so much life ahead of me, so many things to do, so many people to upset, disappoint, make laugh, arouse, etc. I am so filled with life I'm flinging it everywhere I gesticulate.
Ted, however, is laying in a hospital bed, barely able to move, attached to machines, and possibly fighting for every minute of life he has left. The fight is a losing one for all of us, but his is more than likely coming to its non-dramatic conclusion tonight, maybe tomorrow.
I imagine what it's like to be in his place. Nurses and doctors hovering around me; I wonder if I'd be aware that rather than make me better or cure me of my ills, they are simply trying to make me comfortable so my exit is a peaceful and painless one. I wonder just how coherent my thoughts would be? Would I be with it enough to tell people to stop wasting prayers on an atheist, to tell them I really don't care if "God" loves me?
Or would I just lie there in that tense repose, going crazy from listening to my own heart beeping at me through a monitor?
It's probably been a few years since I last saw my uncle Ted. I frankly don't have a lot of memories of him. But I'll miss him nonetheless, as I would the loss of any of my family, keys to my past.
posted by BoneDaddy at 11:45 PM
4 Comments:
Interestingly enough, he died just before I started that post. RIP, Uncle Ted.
I know there's not much that can be said without sounding shallow, but my heart goes out to you. I'm sorry for your loss :(
Thanks Hyena :) He will be missed, but I smile in celebration of his life.
As you know, I believe in God. Sometimes I don't know how much. But I also pray to god that I will figure it out before I die. I hope we all do. It is a vast and mysterious universe.
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