Gradually, Then Suddenly

I loved this dog.  And I adored the man who took the photo.  I had joked with him that he was a world-class dog sitter for her and that next he would teach her to read.  Voila! or Viola! as he would type it - this photo came to my phone.  She had become a reader.  Loved the dog.  Will always love the photo.

One of my dad's best friends was Tom Starzl at Pittsburgh  (he did the first liver transplant, I believe).  Whenever the subject would turn to non-accidental deaths (which for those two was morbidly often) - he would say "Death Takes Small Bites".  I always thought that would make a great title for a novel.  Small bites indeed.

My favorite literary reference to death was not in fact about death at all; I believe it was bankruptcy.  But I'll take liberties or artistic license.  I'm allowed - it was Ernest Hemingway in The Sun Also Rises.  The question:   "How did he die?".  The answer was "Gradually, then suddenly".

It is a sad time: I got through Hurricane Irene just fine, but Stella did not.   Brings to mind both Hemingway and Starzl.  The good news is that this post prompted me to find an email address for Dr. Starzl and send him a note about how much his friendship meant to my dad.

I have chosen to believe in a dog heaven.

Death Just Hangs Around Now

I liked John O'Hara's novel, but loved the Somerset Maugham vignette that gave it the title:  Master sends servant to the market in Baghdad; servant freaks out when he sees Death there and runs to Samarra to avoid him. The master then confronts Death, chastising him for frightening his servant.  And Death replied: "I did not mean to frighten him; I was just surprised to see him in Baghdad today when I have an appointment with him tonight in Samarra".

I don't think anyone in the house has an appointment tonight, but Death has become a regular, at least as a conceptual, theoretical presence.  Just hanging around all the time.   I have a favorite NYorker cartoon framed and displayed -  featuring Death handing a card to a terrified man. Death says: "don't worry, it's just a save-the-date card."  As I write this, I realize perhaps it's my fault that the concept has taken up residence here.  Mocking it may be unwise.  Imprudent.

I am not a morbid person, I'm really not.  But since the Sudden Cardiac Arrest (SCA) nearly two years ago, I don't think a day has passed without at least a fleeting thought of death.  It sidles up as I take an evening swim in the ocean.  The slightest twinge evokes it; it doesn't even have to be in my chest; thoughts of death say Hello if the twinge is anywhere in the general area of the torso.  Tedious.  It pops in and reminds me to make sure the "documents" are up to date and where they are supposed to be.   I have a new game - I change the beneficiaries now and then as my mood shifts. Yes, I do that now as a result of mood changes.  Too bad - it's my money.  If I want to be posthumously capricious, so be it.  People are mean to me, they get less.  Other people are meaningful to me; they will be shocked to find out they are listed.  Wow - perhaps this is the age when one becomes eccentric. Somehow, I didn't think that would happen in my 50's.

And of course, Stella the dog is having her own dance as she winds through the winter of her life, slowly but inexorably approaching her last day.

So death just hangs around in the air here.  I don't find it frightening, but occasionally unnerving. Lately, it's been a little annoying.  Like maybe Death could go get a job instead of insisting on lurking around my home.  Great idea.  I'll write the Craig's List ad now.  'Unemployed spectre seeks engagement.........have own sickle or scythe or whatever the hell that thing is called.  Will work for souls.'

Mocking Death gives us the illusion of the upper hand.  I'll take it.

Expiration Date

Yes, I would very much like to know when I will die.  My very own expiration date.  I understand many people prefer the uncertainty, but not me.  I would like to know.  Once I survived Sudden Cardiac Arrest (SCA), my  mortality shifted from being an interesting, distant, fuzzy, philosophical concept to a reality that has taken up residence with me every single day.   Every day, I have at least one thought of it - from the meaningful musings on life after death to the banal "How do I keep people from reading my journal if I leave it out and then die in my sleep?".  Or - "pick up those dirty clothes; that will be embarrassing if someone has to come in here and find that."  I know it's weird; I would have thought this could become grim, but it is simply a fact of my new life.  Mortality is a boarder here now;  mortality dines and sleeps with me every day;  mortality has taken up residence.  Mortality has its own chair.

These are not depressing thoughts; they are oddly dispassionate.  It's just the practical reality.  We all face mortality; having your heart stop without warning just makes it a tad more real - less of a concept, more of a fact.

And why do I want to know my expiration date?  Mostly it is about spending money - I would like to know how long my money has to last - or put another way - exactly how extravagant I can be.  I think I am going to go on an adventure-type trip early next  year - to a place I've always wanted to go.  I'm cheap; spending money like that is tough for me.  But if I knew my expiration date, I could plan those trips with comfort and confidence.

And probably even more importantly ---  I could leave dirty clothes on the floor.

The Upside of Sudden Cardiac Arrest

From time to time, it occurs to me that there are a few benefits of having had Sudden Cardiac Arrest (SCA).   And I'm not thinking in terms of viewing the world and life through more a more profound lens - I am referring to odd little snaps that pop up randomly where the thought is "wow, I wouldn't _________ if it hadn't been for the SCA).

Examples:

On the really mundane, I think my house is neater.  It is truly bizarre how often it passes through the mind -  casually not dramatically--- that I don't want people to have to come in the house and find XYZ in the event that today is the day I have croaked.  Tidy up.  I wonder where in the hospital discharge instructions THAT would be listed.  No lifting more than 10 pounds for 6 weeks, no stretching the left arm over the head for 4 weeks and oh yes - tidy up that house.  Spare the poor unsuspecting post-death visitors.

More importantly, I met DD.  Without SCA, there would have been no driving ban and hence, no meeting DD. The idea of not knowing that person sends shivers.

And then today I am reading a book about Buddhism. Yup, I moved from "Whores for Gloria" to Buddhism.  In a section on impermanence, the Dalai Lama writes that being aware of our own death and having an understanding that we can die at any time ------ this is helpful as we contemplate the path to enlightenment.  He comments that most of us avoid all thought of our own death and have a mistaken sense of our permanence,

As I read this, I thought - wow, way ahead of the game on this one.  Check that box. Skipping right on down that path.....

Looking at Death

I have been reminded so many times in the last ten days of the W. Somerset Maugham vignette that provided the title to John O'Hara's Appointment in Samarra.

The Vignette includes 3 characters: Death, a servant and the Master. The Servant is in the Market in Baghdad one morning and encounters Death; the servant was terrified and ran back home. He told the Master he was going to Samarra to hide from Death. Off he went. The Master went down to the Market, furious that Death had frightened his servant so. Master confronted Death and Death responded something like:

"I did not mean to frighten Servant; I was just so surprised to see him this morning in Baghdad as I have an appointment with him tonight in Samarra".

I've never been one to think that we each have a predetermined "time" or that Death works on a mapped schedule. But I've seen Death now; I'm relieved it was not in Samarra.