To Die For

My current illness will, I suspect, ultimately lead to my demise. We all die though the mechanisms may be different. So I've put the issue on the back burner and decided to take things as they come. Denial also works for me. At least it helps. But denial works best until there is a clock. Then, maybe, you start thinking differently. My clock's running so thoughts related to death cross my mind. And there are lots of them. Allow me to indulge myself in a few – in no particular order.

Initially I decided that I don't want to die. I wanted to live forever. Then I rethought the question. Do I really? Of course I do. I need to know what happened – I don't want to leave in the middle of the story. What will happen to the world? Will the Jewish People flourish or be destroyed. Or, more to the point, what will happen to my grandchildren? And beyond.

But the world is passing me by and I have to reconsider what I wish for. During my lifetime America's politics has undergone dizzying changes. And there have been major advancements in technology, ethics, language, music, medicine, pop culture, and a host of other fields. Perhaps they're not all for the good, but they are, and the world is very different from what I experienced as a child.

Do I want to see my great-grandchildren develop. I suppose so. But if I live long enough to find out about them I'll probably see my children age and suffer, and I don't want that. In addition, my great-grandchildren, and the generations that follow, won't know me and will have concerns of their own. And I'll be sick, even if not terminally. Sooner or later I'll probably get some kind of dementia. Perhaps eternal Alzheimers if I hang on forever. Not for me. Nor is any other permanent illness – especially one associated with pain. And who will take care of me? I really don't want to be a burden on anyone and limit their own enjoyment of life. So forget that.

Nonetheless, I've wondered about their obligations, and the responsibilities of others towards me (and my wife who is ill as well). We have two sons in driving distance (and a daughter over 5,000 miles away) but, being younger, they have to support their own families. A visit every now and then, and the provision of some food, are welcome but it's unfair to demand more.

So it's up to me and whatever friends we have locally. Fortunately we're blessed with many who have offered to help out. Thinking about it, however, it strikes me that we all have obligations to the sick, and they are fulfilling a duty they feel inside, as well as helping us. What are their obligations? How can they help?

Most of them have offered rides. They want to take us to the doctor, and there are times that neither of us is up to driving, so it's very welcome. As is the offer of food. We've even received a cooked meal from one friend and ice cream from another. Neither of us has a very good appetite, so the food lasts a long time, and we're grateful for the gifts. It makes life easier for us and helps us get the calories we need.

But what helps most from our friends are our friends. Their visits and the concern they express are the real tonics. The ones who have come, however, are the same ones who brought food so the visits have been relatively few. And although I appreciate their friendship and offers of help they're sometimes more than I want. I'm not an invalid and don't want to be treated like one. Let me do what I can do while I can. I need to feel I'm still useful.

But I have obligations too. I see some of my other friends outside of my house and there are “things” I have for them. First of all is an expression of my gratitude, even for those who don't visit but only offer good wishes when they see me. I also try to provide them with good cheer and a laugh every now and then. And courage. I try to let them know that all is as well as it can be and that we're muddling through. The time will come when their clocks start ticking and Id like to believe that the strength I try to display is something that will help them along. Even if their only concern is aging. If we're lucky we get old. Notwithstanding the aches and pains, the "golden years" are usually worth it and I hope they can enjoy them. I try to ignore my own concern – my thoughts of death – and convince others that I'm not afraid.

The King And I has a song whose lyrics, by Oscar Hammerstein, bear witness to my concerns:

Whenever I feel afraid
I hold my head erect
And whistle a happy tune
So no one will suspect I'm afraid

While shivering in my shoes
I strike a careless pose
And whistle a happy tune
And no one ever knows I'm afraid

The result of this deception
Is very strange to tell
For when I fool the people I fear

I fool myself as well

I whistle a happy tune
And every single time
The happiness in the tune
Convinces me that I'm not afraid

Make believe you're brave
And the trick will take you far
You may be as brave
As you make believe you are

While shivering in my shoes
I strike a careless pose

And whistle a happy tune
And no one ever knows I'm afraid

The result of this deception
Is very strange to tell
For when I fool the people
I fear I fool myself as well

I whistle a happy tune
And every single time
The happiness in the tune
Convinces me that I'm not afraid

I want to live. Perhaps not forever, but at any particular time I think “Not now. I want to be around for …” And I wonder if anyone, any idea, or any physical thing is worth dying for. My first response is “No.” But the more I think about it the more I realize that it's a complicated question. The decision of one who is young, a risk-taker filled with bravado, would reflect that mindset. An older person may not be as courageous in thought and speech. Additionally patriotism is a strong motive, and one of many reasons why people volunteer for military service.

But most people don't want to die. Certainly some commit suicide because of pain or depression, or choose martyrdom because of beliefs or to advance a cause. It isn't far-fetched to conclude that the latter were ready to die for a cause. That's not the same as committing suicide.

Belief itself is an important factor. If you're convinced that you'll be rewarded after death for an act you performed you're more likely to perform that act. However egotistical martyrdom is, it's a strong motivator. (And it helps if you're certain that your family will be rewarded for what you've done.)

One may choose death in order to save a family member or a friend. Perhaps there is the wish is to induce guilt in another. The survival instinct, both personal and for your species, will play a part in your decision. But in the end, dying for a person or a cause is not thought out but impulsive. It's a last minute decision that is emotional. One does not plan falling on a grenade or running into traffic to save another. The situations are unpredictable and so is the response. I don't know what my response might be and I won't know unless circumstances arise that dictate a response. I'm a coward, but who knows? But if, on the spur of the moment, I choose to die I won't be able to evaluate what I accomplished. I'll never know how things turned out.

Aye, there's the rub.

September 14, 2017