Death of a Good Man

Just as I was heading off to bed yesterday evening, the phone rang.  It was my sister.  I paused in the hallway to listen to the answering machine doing it's thing but could hear nothing clearly as Hubby was crashing pans and blasting water during his tour of KP duty after dinner.  All I could make out was "Jon" and "died."  The only Jon I know is my sister's 22-year-old son.  Oh. My. God.  I froze.  Couldn't blink.  Couldn't move.  Couldn't speak.  Hubby must have seen something in my face so he said nothing and hit the replay button on the phone.  The message, correctly heard without background interference, wasn't much better than the way I originally heard it.  Jon is alive and well and still attending university as of this writing.  It is my Uncle Don who is dead.  It took a few minutes to re-scramble my brains back together to the point of being able to pick up the phone and call back my sister.

Uncle Don was a really fun man to hang out with and maybe politely  talk politics and religion over a couple of beers.  He was one of those rare people who was always comfortable in his own skin and with his own beliefs.  I defy anyone to declare that the man ever once contradicted himself.  Straightforward and brutally honest: just the way I like men.  And nows he's gone.  

One of Don's worst fears was to eventually be caught up in the tentacles of the Medical System.  Over the last several years he took great pride in staying out of the doctor's office while all his family and acquaintances faithfully went in and pursued answers to every pain, belch and fart that may have emanated at an inopportune time.  Nope.  Not for Don.  He loved his life and didn't intend to tempt fate by having anything to do with doctors.

Over a year ago Don had to face facts and see a doctor.  He had prostate cancer.  Before the well-intentioned docs could begin treating the cancer, they had to inspect, detect, and diagnose every last cell in his body prior to proceding with the treatment.  He was next met with, "You have congestive heart failure, so let's put you on a ton of meds (including the roid-rage steroids) and see how that works before we finish the cancer treatment."  So he waited.  Then waited.  And then waited some more.  There were so many doctor's fingers in his case, but not one acting as the chief cook and bottle washer to organize his treatment.  Don knew this mess was coming, and did his level best to stay out of it.  Well, he's out of it now.

Yesterday was apparently a fairly good day for Don.  He loves cooking, and had put together one of his fabulous minestrone soups.  As Don and my Aunt had just settled in to eat it for an early supper, Don slowly slumped forward.  Aunt couldn't get a response from him and he fell out of the chair onto the floor.  Aunt called 911 first, and then called her neighbor who is a nurse.  The nurse immediately started CPR and kept it going until the paramedics arrived.  Aunt and the neighbor first waited outside ER as the hospital staff worked on Don.  Next, they were told Don would be going to ICU and asked to go there to await his arriva.  Then they heard, "Code Blue ER" and they both knew he was gone.  Just like that.  A loved man was gone.  

All indications point to the fact that Don suffered a massive heart attack while eating, and was likely dead by the time he hit the kitchen floor.  He still had some fibrillating heart beats so the docs took that as a sign to continue working on him.  It appeared to be a useless thing to do, but that's their jobs, so they did all they possible could.  As my Hubby tends to say, "You never know when your ticket is going to get punched."

Something tells me that Don knew what was coming and he made his last day the best one he could manage.  He always loved to cook, and it's entirely fitting that he was engaged in something he loved when he died.  If you could have a choice in method of your eventual demise, I can think of far worse things than dying while doing something you love and with the woman you love.

We all owe a death.  Uncle Don's death got me thinking (not that it's always a good exercise!) about some questions.  If you knew the hour or even minute of your death, would you change your life in any way at all?  Maybe do a little soul searching about your past misdeeds and think of a way to put it right?  Seeing and knowing that the Grim Reaper is coming and you can't stop him, what would you do?  What behavior would you change, if at all?  Do you even begin to think that something about yourself needs changing at all - just in case you pass on and have to stand before Judgment and answer for your entire life's actions?  Yes, I wax philosophical at times like these.

Don was such an interesting person to talk with, and he did a particular  kindness to me many years ago regarding an old ex-boyfriend.  Don understood exactly what I was thinking and feeling, and did his level best to see me through to the "good" side of insanty.  I'll never forget it.  That incident was a good 20 years ago, and I hope I never forget how good he was to a 20-year -old naive, love-stuck girl.  Aside from that one, very special incident, Don was such a solid, honest and dependable man.  You always knew exactly where you stood with him.  Don had enough manners to apear to tolerate people with different opinions without enraging an entire church gathering.  He talked straight and tough (traits I very much admire) but his gruff exterior covered a heart of pure gold.  

Uncle Don is only one of thousands of people who died last night.  He was blessed with a very fast ending.  I say "blessed" because if anyone hated slowly becoming a full-fledged and sickly invalid, it was Don.  If he had to die sooner rather than later, it was a blessing that he was felled quickly by a massive heart attack.  God Speed to you Uncle Don, you are already greatly missed.  If anyone needs a guardian angel right now, it's your wife - my Aunt.  Don, you know she can't handle emotional upheaval. I hope the Powers-that-Be can help in that regard.  

Let us leave my own family sadness and consider something more personal.  If you're leading a satisfactory life wherein you have few regrets, then God Bless you and keep up the good work.  If not, (and I assume there are more nays than yeas to that question)  consider removing your foot from your mouth, and opening your brain and senses to recoginize what your friends may be saying about you - and not to your face.  Every last one of us has room for improvement.  The question remains: will we heed the warning of the dead?  Will we cast off some old hurts and prejudices to make of us better people?  In my opinion, taking the initiative to examine your actions and then to take action to change yourself in a positive way, honors our dead loved ones and also helps us to remember them.

I thank all of the Uncle Dons of this world who have touched people and inspired them to think, reeavaluate and maybe even change a few destructive areas of their lives.  Better than a New Year's Eve resolution, isn't it?