End of Life Discussions

OK, so perhaps we can't prove, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that we're all gonna die, but I'd venture to say that it's pretty likely to occur. It's going to happen to me. It's going to happen to you. Whether we want to talk about it or not, it's one of those pieces of life that we get to undergo whether we ever talk about it or not.

But why don't we talk about it? Why does the inclusion of "end-of-life counseling" in the president's health care proposal stir so much acrimony? I can understand where people have concerns about a government run health care system or they might have issues with the increased cost to the nation or other similar issues.  But fighting the inclusion of counseling to help people know what their options are when making a living will? What is it that we're really fighting there? Is this a means for the nation to channel Dylan Thomas in raging against the dying of the light? It's not the counseling we're afraid of. It's that bit about death.

The older sister of one of Nathan's former classmates died last Thursday. She was 14. She was hit by an SUV as she biked across a crosswalk and her body was thrown 60 feet. I heard that her mother spent most of the day thrown across her body crying. I can't get that image out of my mind. I ache for her loss and I imagine myself similarly prostrate across one of my children's lifeless forms if the same were to befall us. And that leads me to appreciate and love and cherish my kids all the more. They're not dead, yet. I'm not dead, yet. But all of us will be one day. Recognizing and being aware of that fact enables me to be more thankful for the life we have today.

The New York Times had an article on end-of-life care and counseling yesterday entitled, "At the End, Offering Not a Cure but Comfort." The article touches upon different people's ability to cope with the fact that they are nearing the end of their life. It described a cancer patient whose response to the tragic news that her cancer was terminal was to state matter-of-factly that she's rather live, thank you very much. Her response echoed the statements made by a gal in our church who passed away several years ago from a brain tumor. She "just wanted to get on with life." ... Isn't that what many of us would say when faced with death? "No thank you. I'll pass on that. I've got better things to do." And yet it comes anyway.

Why is discussing death left to the goths and morbid teens who have more life in them than the death they love to ruminate on? Why are we not more aware of death in our day-today lives? Rob and I both remind our kids that we're not going to be around forever.  We don't know the day of our demise, but we recognize that it's coming. We know that each day we have in which we can be with our kids and love them and raise them is a gift. We try hard not to take that for granted. As much as I'd love to promise my kids that I'll always be here for them, I'd be a fool to say that. There are no guarantees.

I would have thought that Terry Schiavo's situation would have taught us all a lesson. Death is coming and it's not always as clean and definitive as one might hope. Talking about death with our family members might seem like a real downer, but if something like what happened to Terry happened to us, wouldn't that downer of a conversation take on a whole new light? Wouldn't our family members feel relieved that we'd written down our wishes? The pain of the death might not be diminished, but at least it wouldn't also be shackled with the doubt, guilt and other issues that can come with trying to decide about pulling that plug.

The beautiful thing when talking about death is that it proves to be such a perfect foil for life. It illuminates and highlights the precious nature of that which we often take for granted. As Natalie Babbitt said in Tuck Everlasting, "Don't be afraid of death, be afraid of the unlived life."