My Two Cents on Death
What is death, and what does it feel like? It was not until recently that I became more fixated on this topic. Mainly, four experiences have jolted me from my mundane everyday routine. Coincidentally, the number four in Chinese means death as well.
Well, the first question is loaded, but Merriam-Webster defines it as a permanent cessation of all vital functions. Descriptions of the latter can be found in almost every medium since the 19th century. There are also accounts of close encounters if you do a search on the Internet.
The number 911 holds a special meaning for me. If you convert it into a date, it marks when the most tragic incident happened in the US. The selfish acts of those involved caused the deaths of thousands and brought suffering to many more. Every year, we hear brave stories of those who tried to save others during that incident. I didn’t lose anyone then, but the annual commemorations do tug on my heartstrings. My own personal encounter with death this year was the catalyst that prompted me to write this piece. My incident was nowhere near as profound or devastating as that in 2001, but it did act as a wake-up call when I realized death had hit so close to home.
Why do we choose to delay our death? Amazingly, we can live to an older age with better technology, stemming from years of research, development, and advances in medical science. With that, many assume that living longer means living a better life, equating longevity with more valuable time to experience things and create a legacy. Though that may be true and would reflect the mindset of the majority, shouldn’t we also take a minute to consider that not everyone wants to prolong their life? (Clarification: Not wanting to prolong life does not mean wanting to take one’s own life.)
I was in the majority school of thought until a few months ago. It was the second incident that made me realize and explore the possibility of the above-mentioned idea.
The white walls of the examination room, the tense breathing coming from myself, and the slow ticking of the analogue clock hanging by the doorway seemed to have etched themselves into my memory – even though it was a short consultation with the doctor. I was accompanying an extended family member for a checkup. The doctor needed to get better images of the growth behind the nasal cavity. It was a futile attempt, and she recommended the riskier approach of a biopsy to get a better sense of the tumor’s condition before it worsened.
As she was inserting the endoscope, I almost immediately knew what the outcome would be. My extended family member became visibly irritated and restless as the long, cold, rubbery camera was guided into their nose. It wasn’t long before they proclaimed in Hokkien to stop the procedure. I watched nervously as things unfolded, unsure whether I should step in as they continuously swatted at the doctor’s and nurse’s hands. Throughout the whole ordeal, they mumbled loudly to express their discontent.
After escorting an agitated version of them out of the consultation room, my immediate thoughts questioned the stubbornness of their actions. Don’t they realize the images of their tumor would make the diagnosis and treatment process more effective? Why were they refusing to cooperate?
Then I stepped back and looked at the situation from their point of view. They may or may not be ignorant of the tumor situation given their old age and failing body, but one thing is certain: they don’t feel comfortable being in the hospital for a consultation, much less open to the idea of putting a camera up their nose. It is ultimately their body, and they have the final say. Besides, I was not on the receiving end of the procedure, so who am I to judge their response?
On the off chance that they are ignorant of the tumor’s seriousness and refuse to undergo any further procedures or treatment options, I feel that their decisions should be respected. Failing to convince them to ‘see the bigger picture’ and failing to get their consent for the upcoming biopsy should not be the primary reasons to let nature take its course. Instead, the more appropriate reason would be wanting to respect their final wishes.
Their deaths, like all other deaths, would have a ripple effect. It would affect those closest to them, followed by friends and acquaintances as their obituary gets disseminated through various mediums.
This ties into my third experience, which was playing an interesting question-based card game with a group of close friends. We would take turns choosing a card we wanted everyone to answer. One of the questions that popped up was: ‘How would you like to be remembered when you pass on?’ It wasn’t something I had put much thought into, as I was living day-to-day.
I still feel my answer to that question is not complete. Given a few more years, my answer would likely change to reflect the things I prioritize most. Some may disagree, noting that one should set a definitive answer, and it would be a goal to work towards. While I agree one should live life with a motto or goal, this question should be answered differently at various stages of life.
My fourth experience was with a half-alive cockroach squirming at my void deck after they finished fogging the chutes. It was trying to stay alive by flipping itself over, but between the two of us, it was apparent that it had ingested the chemicals, and its death was imminent. Till its last breath, it continued to wiggle its hairy legs, until ultimately, it stopped, and I moved on with my exercise.
The types of death we experience can be categorized into four (what an apt number): by nature, by time, by others (motivated or ill-fated), or by self (accidental or intentional). In the case of the cockroach, it was killed to achieve a purpose.
It is scary to be writing about death, especially when I have yet to hit a mid-life crisis. But it’s how I process things, how I want to communicate, and how I seek to gain perspectives on this topic. I used to view death as just a void when a person passes on. Now, it feels more like a black hole. It sucks everything and everyone into it when it happens. But if we are prepared, perhaps we could bounce back and see the light, like how new stars are birthed from black holes.
Death shouldn’t be shunned. We should hold it to the same standards we hold life. Discuss it. Observe it. Record it. The fear of death follows from the fear of life.
