You don’t want to end up with you

I saw a patient a few hours ago who told me that her husband was in inpatient hospice, and is expected to die very soon. She didn’t seem too upset about it, so I asked her a few questions about the situation. I learned a lot.

He was very, very good at a very complicated job. He made an enormous amount of money. He had a weakness for women and wine, and overindulged in both. My patient is his fifth wife. He has several kids with several different women. He wasn’t around for any of his children – he had always moved on by then. He sent them money when they needed it. He offered what he had available, I suppose. He was not available. But money - that was available.

My patient is a beautiful woman and quite a bit younger than him. When they married, they traveled the world for several years and had an absolutely wonderful time. Then he had a disabling stroke. He was in his early 60s, and years of overindulgence had finally caught up with him. She was in her mid-40s at the time and ended up changing his diapers for several years. Now he’s dying, so she called his biological children to tell them that they may want to come see their father. None of them are coming to visit:

Wife: “Hey, I’m really sorry, but your Dad is in Hospice, and the nurses expect him to die sometime in the next few days. You should come say goodbye to him.”

Grown child: “Oh, that’s too bad. Really. But we’re going to Disney World in a few weeks. Can’t make it. Tell him I said hi.”

Wife: “Um, he may be gone tomorrow. If you’re leaving in a few weeks…”

Grown child: “Well, gotta pack, gotta get everything set, of course…”

Wife: “Of course.”

She had the same conversation, over and over, with his various grown children, all over the country.

So she went into the hospice center, sat on the edge of his bed, and said, “Um, look, what do you want for your funeral? You don’t have any friends. Your kids and ex-wives aren’t coming. I’m not sure what to arrange for you…”

Husband: “Yeah, figured. Well, why don’t you just go out to Southern Barrell (his favorite restaurant) and drink a toast for me? How about that?”

Wife: “Of course.”

And that was it.

She seemed stunned, sitting there in the exam room with me. She just sat there for a second. Then she looked at me with a blank expression and asked, “How do you end up in a place like that?”

I just looked at her for a moment and responded, “If all you care about is you, eventually you just end up with you.”

She was just about to respond when her cell phone rang. She looked at it and said, “It’s Hospice.”

I said, “I can step outside for a moment.”

She shrugged and said, “I’ll call them back.”

Me: “Of course.”

I wanted to cry. I think she did, too.

But neither one of us could.

This has bothered me more than it probably should. I hate to admit this, but I understand him. I’ve always had the same weaknesses – women and wine. I enjoy my bourbon more than I probably should. And I’ve always loved women. I’ve done some stupid things, with some women I probably shouldn’t have done them with.

But I’ve never cheated on a girlfriend. And when I married, I decided that my days of indulging those pleasures were over. Except with my wife of course.

And I decided that I would also control my love of bourbon, instead of having my love of bourbon control me.

So he and I have the same weaknesses. But I decided that I would not be controlled by those weaknesses. He chose differently.

We chose differently. And our lives have turned out differently.

Of course.

In 100 years, our great-grandchildren probably won’t visit our graves. But if they do, they’ll probably have the same conversation with each other:

Great grandchild #1: “Wasn’t he the one who worked in the tile plant?”

Great grandchild #2: “I thought he was the doctor?”

Great grandchild #1: “Eh, maybe you’re right.”

Great grandchild #2: “It was a long time ago. Let's go grab some lunch.”

So if no one else cares what I do, why do I care?

Every philosophy, every religion, every culture, every political system – they all attempt to deal with this central problem.

I can do whatever I want. So why not?

I chose differently than he did. And I’m not sure why.

If pressed, the only answer I could offer is that I have a fundamental understanding that I am not the most important thing in the world. And I am unwilling to hurt others while I help myself.

And that’s it.

I wish there was something else. But I think that's it.

I consider my greatest victory as a parent to be teaching my children that there is a God, and they are not him. Once you understand that simple point, then a lot of other things get more simple as well.

I’m rambling. And part of it is because I am toasting some guy I don’t know, with a bit too much bourbon. My understanding of him frightens me. The bourbon helps. Which frightens me even more.

But part of my rambling is that my understanding is incomplete. So I wander around, searching for truth.

But I don’t wander too far. There are guardrails. Beyond those guardrails lie not just death, but nothingness. And I fear nothingness more than death.

If I’ve done my job, then I can deal with death. If I haven’t, then I can’t. And that’s it.

I pray that I have served my children, and my wife, and my fellow man, and my God — I pray that I have served them adequately. I hope that I have served them well. But I pray that I have served them at least adequately.

I have tried to choose well. And I expect no benefit from those choices.

But I hope that others DO benefit.

Because otherwise, in the end, you just end up with you.

I pray that I am spared from such a horrible fate.