Death

Death makes us uncomfortable. We don't know how to act around someone that has a terminal illness. We don't know what to say to someone that has lost a loved one. Society struggles to find the right thing to say to comfort the dying and to console those left behind. Are consoling words really necessary? Why can't we face death as Patch did in the movie Patch Adams; with humor and last wishes granted?

Everyone has their own way of dealing with, or in some cases avoiding, the subject of death. We want the dying to alleviate our own fears by dying quietly and without fright. Many avoid the terminal as if death was a contagious disease and by being near someone that is dying, the grim reaper may put his skeletal hand on you.

Both watching the movie "Patch Adams" and reading the essay "Five Stages of Dying" made me think of my experience with death.

My Mother died of cancer seven months ago, when I was eight months pregnant. In fact, after an urgent call from the hospital, I left as my baby shower was just getting under way to sit vigil at my mother's bedside. After days of horrible pain and hours of struggle to breath, her last breath at last seemed a peaceful one.

Reading "Five Stages of Dying" by Barbara Gould, was difficult for me. I sat for a time after reading this essay wondering what stages my Mother went through. Did she experience all five stages? If so, she did so alone. The thought haunts me. And yet she seems to have come to terms with her impending death unassisted by my sister, myself or anyone else from what we know.

You see, being diagnosed with cancer for the second time in her life and being told even with treatment this round, her battle would certainly be lost. The only hope was for a short reprieve from deaths grasp. Having been through chemotherapy and a mastectomy in the past, my Mother quietly declined when the doctor suggested undergoing similar treatments for her current battle with lung and bone cancers.

Being close to Christmas and having one daughter pregnant, my Mother chose not to tell anyone of her predicament. She faced approaching death alone until she was rushed to the emergency room, unable to breath one January morning. She then decided that maybe she should tell her children of her condition. She did not want us to have the shock of unpredicted death. I believe that secretly, perhaps without her fully realizing