Birth, death, and in between
Today I saw a man die in the street in front of my house.
I was at home and heard a bunch of sirens. I went outside. The paramedics were already there. A pedicab went underneath a van, throwing the driver and the 2 passengers underneath the vehicle.
I stood by and saw the firefighters lift the van off the man. The blood gushed out of him. I wanted to believe he'd be okay, but I knew in my heart he wouldn't be. They rushed him over to the ambulance. His wife was nearby, as was the driver of the pedicab. They had been to a Mariners game. Kettle corn and game info were strewn in the street.
I've seen death before. My best friend's father died in college and I helped wrap his body for the undertaker. I've volunteered for hospice, I work in the cancer field and see patients, and I took care of my grandfathers while they died. But there is something so immediate, so sudden, so final, about a death like this, it takes your breath away.
My friend Deb had witnessed the accident. I went upstairs to see her, and told her he was still alive. From her deck, we could see that shortly thereafter they wheeled his wife over to the ambulance. They wheeled him out, and covered him with a sheet. I can't imagine going to a baseball game with my husband and then seeing him die in front of me, crushed under the wheels of a car.
A dear friend and mentor of mine recently talked about faith. I used to be a hard-core Christian in my youth. I taught Sunday school and I was confirmed. I truly believed. Now I don't even believe that there is a God or an afterlife.
We had a discussion in which we talked about hospice work. She told me about a case she had in which the attending physician prescribed an amount of opiates which would relieve the patient's pain, but also might kill her. Her duty was to make sure that everyone was on the same page about the dose, which created a lot of conflict, since the patient was do not resuscitate. She told me that she wished "if I'm ever in that bed, I could have that faith," because the patient was ready to go to heaven and was at peace.
Last year, I was diagnosed with a pulmonary embolism. At the time, I didn't understand how dire it was. All I kept asking people was, "am I going to die?" They kept smiling and saying, "I don't think so." I obviously didn't die. But at the time, I didn't realize that I had a 50% chance of dying, and a 25% chance of dying in the 6 months following. Ignorance is indeed bliss.
Sometimes I wish I could have that faith. Tonight is one of those times I will snuggle closely to Scott, Sampson, Casper, and Butters, and thank my lucky stars for all that I have in this world and reflect on how I should do this more often. I can only hope for prayers and comfort for the poor woman who lost her husband today.
I was at home and heard a bunch of sirens. I went outside. The paramedics were already there. A pedicab went underneath a van, throwing the driver and the 2 passengers underneath the vehicle.
I stood by and saw the firefighters lift the van off the man. The blood gushed out of him. I wanted to believe he'd be okay, but I knew in my heart he wouldn't be. They rushed him over to the ambulance. His wife was nearby, as was the driver of the pedicab. They had been to a Mariners game. Kettle corn and game info were strewn in the street.
I've seen death before. My best friend's father died in college and I helped wrap his body for the undertaker. I've volunteered for hospice, I work in the cancer field and see patients, and I took care of my grandfathers while they died. But there is something so immediate, so sudden, so final, about a death like this, it takes your breath away.
My friend Deb had witnessed the accident. I went upstairs to see her, and told her he was still alive. From her deck, we could see that shortly thereafter they wheeled his wife over to the ambulance. They wheeled him out, and covered him with a sheet. I can't imagine going to a baseball game with my husband and then seeing him die in front of me, crushed under the wheels of a car.
A dear friend and mentor of mine recently talked about faith. I used to be a hard-core Christian in my youth. I taught Sunday school and I was confirmed. I truly believed. Now I don't even believe that there is a God or an afterlife.
We had a discussion in which we talked about hospice work. She told me about a case she had in which the attending physician prescribed an amount of opiates which would relieve the patient's pain, but also might kill her. Her duty was to make sure that everyone was on the same page about the dose, which created a lot of conflict, since the patient was do not resuscitate. She told me that she wished "if I'm ever in that bed, I could have that faith," because the patient was ready to go to heaven and was at peace.
Last year, I was diagnosed with a pulmonary embolism. At the time, I didn't understand how dire it was. All I kept asking people was, "am I going to die?" They kept smiling and saying, "I don't think so." I obviously didn't die. But at the time, I didn't realize that I had a 50% chance of dying, and a 25% chance of dying in the 6 months following. Ignorance is indeed bliss.
Sometimes I wish I could have that faith. Tonight is one of those times I will snuggle closely to Scott, Sampson, Casper, and Butters, and thank my lucky stars for all that I have in this world and reflect on how I should do this more often. I can only hope for prayers and comfort for the poor woman who lost her husband today.
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