This is a two part story. Part 2 will be more useful if you read Part 1 first.

E. The “Family Curse”

Five or six years ago, I went in for my annual wellness check. A day or two later, my doctor called me and said there was something about my labs that he “didn’t like.” He referred me to a “specialist.” I dutifully called the specialist and the person who answered the phone, said, “Oncology Department.” My doctor neglicted (chickened out?) to tell me the type of specialist he was sending me to or the reason for the visit. Anyway, I accepted the first available appointment which was six weeks out. Thank you American health care system.

After getting off the phone, I looked at my lab report and researched the factors that were not within normal limits. What I learned was that the tests indicated a specifc type of cancer that took the lives of my father and cousin. In their cases, death occurred very shortly after diagnosis. During the last few months of their lives, they were not able to function as effective human beings. This disorder has a genetic component, especially common in the male lineage and I had to wait six weeks for medical attention.

I had no reason to believe that my condition would not follow the same course as that of my father or cousin. I had labs indicating the disease. The disorder is fatal. The disorder has a genetic component. This component is particularly common in the male lineage. And the disorder has a rapid progression. These factors strongly suggested I had about six months to live and much less time to live as a fully functioning human being.

This was the moment I knew was coming. I was going to meet up with my old friend, and soon. This time on his turf. My affairs were mostly in order. Years ago, I prepaid for my cremation and the transportation of my body, selected my grave in the Firefighters Section where I am a steward, commissioned a grave stone which I think is cool and will be something for subsequent generations to enjoy, created an advanced directive and a will. I also have detailed instructions for the executor of my estate based on lessions I learned from fulfilling that function for my wife. All the legal stuff was pretty much taken care of. All I had to do was check in on my mental health. No more kicking the can down the road. This time it was personal.

When I tell this story, the most common responses I get are, “Weren’t you scared?” and “How terrible!” My answers are, No I wasn’t, and No it wasn’t. I didn’t feel afraid to any degree and I consider the experience most fortunate.

I have been reflecting on mortality practically my entire life. Since I became an adult, I have been reflecting on my own mortality virtually every day. My attitude toward death has long been indifference. But was I “whistling past the graveyard?” We cannot really know how we will respond under any set of conditions until we experience those conditions directly. I was given the gift of being allowed to find out how I would respond… how I did respond.

When faced with the immediate reality of my death, I did not feel indifferent. If anything, I was curious. I was also motivated. My primary initiative was to be sure my death did not create unnecessary dukkha (suffering) for others. To that end, I met with the very reliable and sensible friend who is my executor. I confirmed her agreement to serve in that capacity and we made the agreement legal. I reviewed and updated the checklist for closing out my existence in this human realm. I verified that my pre-paid mortuary agreement includes everything I thought it did. That sort of thing. Remember, at this point, there was every reason to believe that in three months, I would not be a functioning human being.

Through focused reflection, I realized that the time I spent meditating on death over the course of my life prepared me very will for this moment. I was not afraid. I didn’t experience anxiety or depression. My feelings were those of calm and acceptance.

When my appointment with the Oncologist arrived, I sat in the waiting area with other people there to see their doctors. I wondered how they were managing their own thoughts and the understanding of their own mortality. I silently wished each person the best possible outcome.

After about thirty minutes, I met the doctor and gave her my family history. She recommended further tests to better understand the progression of my condition and naturally I agreed. When the tests came back, the doctor called me and said that I didn’t have cancer. She had no explanation for the initial tests but assurred me that all factors were normal. These many years later, the labs are still within normal limits and I have no symptoms of the disorder. It doesn’t mean that this disease, which runs in the family, will not eventually get me. Something will. It just means I will have to wait a little longer.

When people learned that I did not have cancer, their reactions seemed to align with the following themes, “It’s a miracle” “You should sue the doctor” and “Too bad. I was hoping to get your truck.”

I don’t think there was anything miraculous about this. I do not believe in miracles. I believe in cause and effect. I think it much more likely there was an error at the laboratory and that I never had the condition. I certainly hope that no one who actually did have the condition was given a false negative as the result of mixed up test results. Moreover, there was no reason to sue the doctor and certainly no grounds for a lawsuit. I was not harmed in any way. It was a great gift to be given the opportunity to reflect on my own death as a real and imminent occurance.

F. Dead Men and Women Walking

We are all dead men and women walking. Sure, we know this in an academic sense. Everyone I know has experienced the death of a relative, friend or pet. And I doubt there are many here in the US who have not heard Benjamin Franklin’s famous quote “…in this world nothing is certain but death and taxes.”¹ But academic awareness does not equate with acceptance. A fair number of the people I have seen die were terrified. And I have heard it said by a hospice nurse that one of the most common questions her patients ask is some form of, “Why me?” I find this astounding.

Unless you have served in combat, as a first responder, a hospital based medical practitioner or in the mortuary field, there is every likelihood you have never come face to face with the dead. This is no accident. Our insitiutions go to great lengths to separate the dead from the living. Our language is designed to deny reality. We don’t say our loved one is dead or that she died. Instead we say, “he passed away, she is in a better place, he has left us” and hundreds of things other than she died. I cannot tell you how many times I have seen an epitaph that says something such as, “I am not dead, only sleeping.” And each time I see that, I think, “well then, why did they bury you?”

Fundamental to Buddhism is the recognition and acceptance that nothing is permanent. Everything that exists has a beginning a middle and an end. That includes me… and it includes you, too. Suffering arises when we cling to or resist conditions that must inevitably change. Clinging and resisting are doomed to failure. Conditions are as they are whether we approve or not. I believe the denial of death does everyone, including ourselves a disservice. By holding reality at arms length, we deny ourselves the opportunity to fully embrace the inevitable… to make death our old friend. It is only when we accept death, fundamentally at our core, not just on an academic level, that we can develop calmness and peace around it.

But don’t take my word for it, investigate for yourself.

1. Letter to Jean-Baptist LeRoy November 13, 1785 ↩︎