A Brush With Death
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Even for a person such as myself, who has spent over thirty years
helping others
to deal with the family, tax and economic problems of death, and
in the process given literally thousands of pieces of advice on
these subjects, it is nonetheless unsettling when the earnest
young physician who is sitting opposite you tells you that, barring
successful treatment, "you will be desperately ill in six months
and dead inside of a year". No matter how much of a stoic you
are, there are few pronouncements I can think of which would have
any greater psychological impact. I will tell you, with only a
mild sense of shame, that my John Wayne imitation was on vacation
that day, and for several days thereafter as well.
As you may find elsewhere on this site, I am fond of the sayings
of Dr. Samuel Johnson, particularly the one remarking that
knowledge of impending death "wonderfully concentrates the mind".
I can tell you it does do exactly that, and a whole lot of other
things as well. This brief essay, which makes no pretense at
being anything other than personal, will touch on some other
possible effects.
A. Unfinished Business.
By way of beginning, I will say, although it should be obvious,
that none of us knows how much warning we will get as the end
approaches; many get only a split second or two, as in the case
of an auto accident or sudden heart attack - or maybe a minute
or two, as in the case of a plane crash. In either event, too
short to attend to any "unfinished business" in your life.
If the facts are otherwise, and you can look forward to several
months or more of reasonably sapient and vigorous life, it would
be a rare person indeed, I believe, whose first constructive
thoughts would not turn to that inevitable mental checklist which
we all carry about in our heads, and on which are reflected all
of the things we meant to do, ought to do, deserved to do, wanted
to do, etc.
This supposition impels me to recommend that you think now about
your own list of unfinished business, and set about shortening
it up, at least in its most important aspects. This list will
never go away entirely; I am not suggesting that it should or
could, but do spare some time for those items on your present
list (and I am not thinking here of estate or business planning
or those sorts of things) which deserve your attention now. You
may not get to attend to them later.
B. Keep it to Yourself.
One of the more predictable delusions afflicting the unwell is
that everyone they meet will find it rivetingly interesting (a)
to learn, in excruciating detail, of their illness / diagnosis /
treatment, and (b) to receive informed opinion upon their
triumphant recovery from / suspenseful uncertainty regarding /
tragic inability to defeat, etc., the remorseless disease. All
it would take is a bit of "putting the shoe on the other foot"
to convince the unwell one that this is simply not so - that
no one else's level of interest is anywhere near to the victim's
own - but the illusion persists. All the unlucky hearer
can do is try to put a good face on it and appear politely
interested until an escape route appears.
C. Viewing Mortality.
Having almost perished at the outset of World War II when my
ship got in the way of a German torpedo, I have had, throughout
much of my conscious life, a sort of background sense of being
here on borrowed time, and so perhaps the news of my illness did
not have just the same effect on me that it might have otherwise
had. Don't get me wrong here, I am no more anxious to meet my
Maker than the next fellow; it is just that I think there may
be differences among people in the way in which they view
mortality, in the strength with which they cling to life, etc.,
and I simply mention this to explain my own possible deviations
from the norm in this regard.
D. The Bravery Hypothesis.
High on every man's list of personal conceits is that he is a
braver fellow than his neighbor - this without, in most
cases, any objective evidence to support it. That sort of
evidence is hard for many of us to come by, given our generally
(by world and historical standards) idyllic and secure lives.
So news of the existence of a dangerously threatening disease
might be for some, perhaps a trifle perversely, a welcome test
of the bravery hypotheses. I concede that this may be
stretching a point, however.
E. About Hope. Hope is
surely one of the very most universal of human feelings ... I
cannot imagine a person who does not have hope ... for
something. Even in a lifetime of hoping, there are few things
which one might more earnestly hope for than the continuation
of one's life, past its projected expiration date.
One of the dictionary definitions of hope is "to expect with
desire, or to desire with expectation; to look forward to
(something desired)". Hope as thus defined is an evanescent
thing, hard to grasp, even more hard to illustrate. That would
not bother some, but there are others, perhaps, who need a more
tangible expression of their hope.
You will recall that our culture clearly supports the notion of
such tangible expressions, specifically in the term "hope chest",
which is "a chest or box in which a young woman hopefully collects
articles intended to furnish a home of her own in the event of her
marriage". As such, it is a symbol, a talisman, an incarnation
of a person's desire for a specific result or outcome or the
fulfillment of a certain aspiration, in this case, the aspiration
to become married. It may be that every important hope deserves
some such talisman, if only to serve as a reminder (if one is
needed) of the central importance of that hope in the life of the
one who hopes.
A "hope chest" can take almost any form. It can be something
which currently exists or something which will happen in the
future. You may be accustomed, in your life, to having such focal
points, but many of us are not, and to them I would say that, in
any time of great risk and uncertainty, hope plays an important,
if unverifiable, role in the outcome. Any reasonable technique
which can define, focus, and reinforce one's hope should be
resorted to without hesitation.
At such times, put aside any silly notions of selflessness, and
do whatever is reasonably necessary to give yourself this break.
I do not propose to tell you what my hope chest is, that is not
necessary to this discussion, but I will tell you that I feel
the better for having taken such a step, and believe it may
help. Besides, it beats the hell out of simply having a
"positive mental attitude".
F. Johnson's Thoughts. Dr.
Johnson had occasion to speak on the subject of death in 1773,
during his tour of the Hebrides. Boswell set the stage, and
recorded Johnson's remarks, as follows:
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"We spoke of Death. Dr. Johnson on this subject observed,
that the boastings of some men, as to dying easily, were
idle talk, proceeding from partial views. I mentioned
Hawthornden's Cypress-grove, where it is said that the
world is a mere show; and that it is unreasonable for a
man to wish to continue in the show-room, after he has
seen it. Let him go cheerfully out, and give place to
other spectators.
Johnson. 'Yes, sir, if he is sure he is to be well, after
he goes out of it. But if he is to grow blind after he
goes out of the show-room, and never to see any thing
again; or if he does not know whither he is to go next,
a man will not go cheerfully out of a show-room. No
wise man will be contented to die, if he thinks he is
to go into a state of punishment. Nay, no wise man
will be contented to die, if he thinks he is to fall
into annihilation: for however unhappy any man's existence
may be, he yet would rather have it, than not exist at
all. No; there is no rational principle by which a man
can die contented, but a trust in the mercy of God, through
the merits of Jesus Christ.'
This short sermon, delivered with an earnest tone, in a boat upon
the sea, which was perfectly calm, on a day appropriated to
religious worship, while every one listened with an air of
satisfaction, had a most pleasing effect upon my mind."
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In a way, it comforts me to see that even the great sage, when
put to this test, could rise only partially to the occasion. His
thoughts, while interesting and well-expressed, can hardly be
called profound. Maybe there are things that are beyond knowing.
G. A Serendipity. Quite by
accident, and literally the day before my intended delivery of
this essay to the web designer for inclusion on this Site, I came
upon the text of a letter which Dr. Johnson wrote in 1762, to
a woman who had sought his assistance in securing the admission
of her son to a University. In declining her request as gently
as possible, but with the calm forthrightness that was his
lifelong mark, Johnson wrote in part as follows:
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"Hope is itself a species of happiness, and perhaps the
chief happiness which this world affords, but like all
other pleasures immoderately enjoyed, the excesses of hope
must be expiated by pain, and expectations improperly
indulged must end in disappointment. If it be asked, what
is the improper expectation which it is dangerous to
indulge, experience will quickly answer, that it is such
expectation, dictated not by reason but by desire;
expectation raised not by the common occurrences of life
but by the wants of the Expectant; an Expectation that
requires the common course of things to be changed, and
the general rules of Action to be broken.
When you made your request to me, you should have
considered, Madam, what you were asking. You ask me to
solicit a great man to whom I never spoke, for a young
person whom I had never seen, upon a supposition which I
had no means of knowing to be true. There is no reason
why amongst all the great, I should choose to supplicate
the Archbishop, nor why among all the possible objects of
his bounty, the Archbishop should choose your son. I
know, Madam, how unwillingly conviction is admitted, when
interest opposes it; but surely, Madam, you must allow
that there is no reason why that should be done by me
which any other man may do with equal reason, and which
indeed no man can do properly without some very particular
relation both to the Archbishop and to you."
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Having been perhaps a bit unkind to the Doctor in Section F above,
I was delighted that he could come so brilliantly to my aid with
this discussion of Hope, which I earlier had feebly attempted
myself.
H. In Closing. Finally, upon
reflection, the title of this short piece may turn out to be a bit
of a misnomer. As I write, it is far too soon to know what the
outcome will be, and it may turn out that a reference to shovels,
rather than to brushes, would be more appropriate. If that seems
to be the way things are headed I must try to remember to think
up another title.
Postscript - December, 2002
Well, lads, it looks like it's going to be shovels after all. Alas, the pressure of other business precludes my giving the re-titling of this essay as much thought as I would like to have done. Just another one of my many shortcomings. How does the old prayer go?
We have done those things which we ought not to have done...
We have left undone those things which we ought to have done...
Have mercy upon us.
Some years ago, I reflected for a time upon the question of
what eventuality, or combination of eventualities, seems most
likely to produce a happy life. My conclusion was that, for me, and I suspect for many others as well, this combination would consist of (a) a steady supply of problems which a person could just --- but only just --- solve, with, (b) every once in a great while, a problem which he could not. The solved problems give you satisfaction --- the unsolved ones keep you humble. My life, now nearing its end, has afforded me just that set of eventualities, for which I am duly grateful.
Mr Keating passed away in the late spring of 2003.
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