Death II

I'll digress a bit before getting back to my tale.

One of my patients died today, it was expected, it was obvious when we examined that the end was near and still we tried to stop the arm of death from plucking this one away from loved ones.

At what point does one give up pulling back the cord of life and allow the grim reaper tug the soul to the great beyond? When do we give up the heroic efforts to restart a failing heart of a soul whose body has been ravaged by its time on earth and infiltrated with cells not designed to nurture life? Many are guided by personal experience, religious belief and a hope so strong it laughs in the face of death to decide whether to be accepting of the eventuality or wave wiry fingers at the specter that wants to bring about the separation of a loved one.

As a physician, I have a fair idea of when the grim reaper or faithful servant if you please is near. One question friends and family want to know is 'How much longer?' 'When will the end come? I don't know how many of you can relate, but as a child, I used to think that doctors knew exactly when their patients would die. I blame it on all the television I watched, where doctors were cast in the mold of the omniscient. When asked by weeping relatives or stoic patients recently diagnosed with a terminal illness how much time they had left on earth, the TV doctors always responded with a time frame...6 months, 2 weeks, 1 year and all sorts of time bundles that quite often have no bearing on reality. When asked how much time is left, my answer is that I do not know. For in truth, I cannot foretell the second that signals the snapping of the cord.

Okay back to the tale I was telling yesterday... What happened next literally had me playing out the next second in slow motion. When they say your life flashes before you just before the end comes, I wonder how true it is, for those who have gone before have not come back to give reports about the few seconds or minutes just before their demise. I also have not gone beyond the great divide, so I can only tell you what happened on the road to Ibadan.

When travelling on a road I have been on many times, there are certain landmarks that give me an idea of how much time has passed. We had passed almost all but two landmarks signifying to me that the trip was about to end when it happened. For some reason, I had not been paying attention to the other side of the expressway but something made me look up and I literally felt like I was watching a movie designed to play out in really slow motion. An 18-wheeler trailer suddenly left its lane and started heading in our direction. It was ahead of us, so those of us that were watching the road knew that we were moving at a speed and velocity that would bring us into perfect alignment and instinctively I could tell there was going to be a terrible collision. I saw the driver of the 18-wheeler struggle to regain control of his beast but it was obvious that his arms struggling to straighten the steering wheel, were no match against his machine. A few seconds before I was sure that we would be smashed to smithereens, the 18-wheeler crossed the divide. At this point, I was just waiting for the end, my mind went blank, my mouth sealed shut, if this was the end, my final words were not of eloquent phrases and dictums but of silence so profound it was deafening.

Just before the trailer hit the end of the divide, its wheels started to spin. Have you ever been behind the wheels of a car trying to back out of a muddy field after a recent downpour? If you have, then you can imagine what happened next. The wheels of the trailer spun so hard and so fast, that it raised a sheet of mud that covered the side of the bus I was seated in. Remember I had said I was sitting right behind the driver? The sheet of mud that fell on the side of the bus was so heavy it shattered the window on my side, covering both myself and the driver in little shards of glass. I remember the trousers and the new handbag I had only recently bought covered in mud and glass. Looking down my hands were covered in tiny cuts from the glass and I was splattered with mud.

Our bus had come to a complete stop in the middle of the expressway and not wanting to be victims of another road traffic accident just having escaped one, the driver was entreated to move his vehicle to the side of the road. Once this was done, we all got out of the bus. What amazed me was that myself and the driver were the only ones that had sustained any injuries albeit minor. That was proof to me that the cautionary tale to sit behind the driver was just stuff and nonsense. It was probably made up to reassure fearful passengers that they would get to their destination safely.

People tried to brush the glass off me and clean up the mud but my only instinct was to escape the scene of what might have been the earthly portal to my departure from this world. I very quickly jumped into the car of someone nearby who decided to use the opportunity of our misfortune to ferry willing passengers to the end of their journey for a small (hefty) fee.

One of the things death reminds me of time and again is the permanence of our departure. Death is a one sided door, it only swings open to the great beyond. On the other side there is no knob or key that permits a return. The door also allows the soul only to depart, the body and its adornments are left on this side of the portal. The bag I had only just bought is probably moth eaten or decaying, I have no idea where it is now. When I bought it, it was one of my most prized possessions. If I had left earth at that point, it would have been of no consequence to me. I remind myself of this whenever I find myself drawn to acquire something that is touted as bigger and better than what existed before. In a few years, would it matter, in the grand scheme of the eternal if I had bought the Samsung S9 edge or the iPhone X?

My third shave with death was closer than the manhole filled with rushing water and even the spinning wheels of the trailer. This time, I thought I was literally going to die. Others have been in the exact same situation I was in and are no longer here today, It brings tears to my eyes to remember that I am not alive because I have been lucky or better than others who have gone before, I am only alive because the one who commands the snap of the silver cord hasn't yet given the signal.

To be continued...