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As I Lay Dying
When the Comtesse de Vercellis, well, passed gas while she was dying, she said, quite reasonably I think, “Good! A woman who can fart is not dead.” Then she died.
The Comtesse didn’t seem to care a whit about other people’s opinions of her. But surely she is an exception to the mass of humanity. Most people care—as they should—about the world’s opinion.
When you don’t care at all about the world’s opinion, you are a sociopath. When you care too much, you’re not enough your own man and the world is too much with you. As usual, the golden mean is the way to go.
I have a story about a man who cared too much about the world’s opinion.
The following episode is true, but I’ve changed names for reasons that will be obvious. When I taught at Middleboro State University, Professor Dubman died in front of his class. According to his students, Dubman was lecturing when his coherence began to go to pieces. Dubman wasn’t too coherent to begin with, so it took the students awhile to notice a difference.
But this time he started rambling more than usual and started to stare off into space. This went on for a minute or so. Then he collapsed, stumbling awkwardly on his way to the floor, spittle coming from his lips. His heart had stopped. A student rushed to the front and started artificial respiration. Dubman came back to life.
I talked to Dubman when he retuned to the University after a period of rehabilitation. “Kent,” he said, “you know what my last thoughts before death were? I was worrying about how foolish I looked as I began to fall apart. I landed on the floor rather awkwardly, you know.”
Afterwards, back in my office, I started thinking about what Dubman had said. Isn’t it sad that in the last moments of his life, his mind was dwelling on what people thought of him? There was a man who worried too much about the world’s opinion.
As we die, shouldn’t we be thinking of our wives, husbands, mothers? Or, even better, a great thought or two. “Life is a tale told by an idiot, full of. . . . . .Ack!”
Goethe was supposed to have cried out, “More light, more light!”
The artist and writer, Dereck Jarman, said, “I want the world to be filled with white fluffy duckies.”
W.C. Fields’ last words: “G-d damn the whole friggin’ world and everyone in it but you, Carlotta. (Carlotta was his mistress.)
Margaret Sanger: “A party! Let’s have a party!”
Steve Jobs last words were, “Oh wow! Oh wow! Oh wow!”—as if he were seeing something no one else could see. Or perhaps he was playing a final joke on us.
But no big thoughts for Professor Dubman as he was dying. He was worried about how foolish he looked.
I hope my last thoughts on this earth will not be about what others are thinking of me. So I’m planning right now that my last word will be “Marie.”
Endnote: Have you thought about what your last words will be? Your mind may be distracted, you know, so you ought to have something in mind.
Published in General
Marci, I don’t know. It’s a little joke, isn’t it?
Kent
and “I Have a Rendezvous With Death”
“mobile”
How about ‘hold my beer’?
Ms. RightAngles, indeed. One of my favorites too.
You laugh, but I think of all the communities (including Ricochet) I participate in, and wonder how they would know what happened to me. How many people might think I just decided to stop posting?
I don’t think it’s in keeping with the Code of Conduct. Let’s just say he swore. :-)
Haha! or “Oh, don’t worry. It’s dead.”
Don’t worry. It’s not loaded.
“Oh, how hard could it be?”
“Trust me. I know what I’m doing.”
You’re thinking too small. “You’re buying me a mansion?”
It’s a good one, but in my case it would be, “Hold my tea!”
Cause I get no kick from champagne.
Mere alcohol doesn’t thrill me at all…
But caffeine is another matter.
If we must pick a method… I want to go out like George Burns. 100 years old, three martinis, a half a dozen El Productos and the adoration of young and beautiful women.
Sit down and I’ll sing you a 13 or 14 numbers…
Hey! I’ll have you know snakes have scales!
Reasonable, perhaps, but ignorant. The gas-making microbes in our gut live on for quite a while after we ourselves expire. Undertakers say it’s fairly normal for the dead to fart.
“There’s $5 million in bearer bonds buried at…”
You need to get Rest Assured.
Well, it sounds like a beautiful ending anyway.
Is that the one about the ball turret gunner who was stuck in the bottom turret of a B-17 that had to do a belly landing?
I’m not so sure this isn’t true Kent, as a mother of 3 sons, a wife and a sister.
One of my favorite calls ever to Dennis Prager was from a female doctor. She was treating an old, old man on his deathbed, when she leaned over to adjust something or other, he sneaked a peek down her lab coat.
The doc was all offended by it, but DP found it hilarious and I frankly find it endearing.
This is something that I’ve thought about a lot, with no conclusions. But I have two pieces of advice that I’ve stolen from others
The medical term for that is “Ain’t dead yet!”
Dang it. I had to google “Auto-erotic asphyxia” to get the spelling right. Off to clear my browser history …
Annefy, also wear clean underwear and clean out your belly button lint.
Kent
I hate when I do that.
I’d like to say, “I had a great time!” But since I’m not sure the dead person ever knew for sure when she was speaking her last words, I’ve left instructions that I want that on my tombstone.
Dying in the arms of a loved one is a beautiful thing.
But having done hospice work on and off for 20 years, I will say this: Nobody dies alone. You are met and embraced by your friends and family who have gone ahead of you.
Having said this, I will add, although it is not possible to die alone, it is possible to spend so many months or years of the final days of your life living alone. Often I took care of rather lonely souls. Once they died, their funeral was attended by countless numbers of people. Where had these people all been while their friend was sick and alone and then alone and dying? So if you should hear that a friend you’ve known since grammar school is sick with cancer, or has a fatal condition, don’t put off reaching out to them. Make the phone call today.
Usually people don’t reach out because they don’t know what to say to a friend in such a dreadful situation. So just call and say that, “I heard you got a rather tough diagnosis and I don’t know what to say. But I am here for you. What do you need? What can I do?”
@caroljoy, how do you know the dying are met by those dead before? I would like to hear some indications that this might be true. (I guess…) And why do you believe it’s not just a hallucination?