Does Dying Hurt?

 

"What holds the sky up?"

"Why do you have wrinkles?"

"Where does the sun go at night?"

"Why do I have two eyes but I can only see one thing?"

Questions from kids can be both funny and challenging.  These are the questions that can stump even the best of the 'Dad joke masters' who can come up with a dorky quip at the drop of a hat.  I can handle those kinds of questions.

Helping aging parents can be both funny and challenging as well.  I've had some of the best laughs of my life with my 91 year old Mom as we've been blessed to be three blocks away from her for the last 3 years.  This has made it possible for her fiercely independent self to remain in her own home relatively unassisted.  We make sure she takes her meds daily, and her bills get paid. My wife has been amazing in making sure groceries and other necessities are purchased and personally delivered.  She's done some very necessary deep cleaning in the house from time to time.  I never imagined I'd see the day when Mom's house wouldn't be immaculate and spotless.  My wife has ensured that standard is maintained.

While there have been some very entertaining times as we've reminisced about hold times, and memories of growing up on the farm and at the fire station, some of the conversations turn very serious as well.  There are conversations I knew would come one day but wish would never have to.  Having a lot of time on her hands with limited mobility gives her lots of time to think.  She reads her Kindle, plays solitaire, watches TV, does word games and crosswords, cooks her dinner, does laundry and light housekeeping,  and thinks of things for me to do and questions for me to answer.

Some questions set me back. The latest one was really random, out of the blue, and set me on my heels.

She looked at me, paused as if wondering if she should continue, then looked at me as quietly asked, "Mark, does dying hurt?"

Whoa!  I can't say that I don't know where that came from but wow!  So maybe I've been flipping this "Freakin Genius" thing around a little too freely.  When she starts asking questions like that, perhaps I've been flying a little to close to the flame.  Kids think you have the answers to everything.  There were times I'd make up answers simply to have an answer to my kids.  Don't worry, the replies were so obviously ridiculous, their eyerolls comforted me knowing they didn't buy a thing I was saying.  I did, however, get some moments of satisfaction that one landed albeit briefly when I'd hear, "Oh wow, really???  *pause* *lightbulb goes off*..."DAD!!!!!!!!"

This wasn't going to be one of those times. Immediately I knew I was in way over my head.  It wasn't a time to be creative, it was a time to ask for some help.  I prayed.  I'll come back to this in a bit.

Fast forward a few days.  Birthday weekend, 2022.  A friend took me to dinner at one of A and my favorite places, Pacos.  We went to the casino and spent some time because we get free play. We very infrequently dip into our own funds which definitely makes the venture a little more fun.  We went home after midnight, and the next evening went to one of the other 3 casinos in town because they offered us a 'gift' of a fire pit. Don't insult me with the word 'gift'...I paid for that sucka, I'm going to collect it and take it home.  

One of the other 'gifts' was a free buffet for the both of us.  Since we paid for that as well, of course we partook.  Some may not know that I've (we've) been on pretty much a modified carnivore diet for the last 3 years.  I've lost a lot of weight, the protein intake along with the weight training has put on some muscle mass and improved my health a lot.  One of the things I haven't done a lot is take in sugar.  Well...it's my birthday weekend, so I may or may not have (for me) OD'd on that crack called sugar.  For most it probably wouldn't have been that much, but for me, it was criminal.  We went home, warmed and filled.

About 2am, I woke up with the worst stomach ache I can remember.  Centered right under the center of my rib cage, when I was conscious of what was going on, I'm sure there was a verbal, "You idiot! You had to have sugar."  I groaned, and filed it, cataloguing it under "Never do that again, dummy!".  I tried to find a comfortable position in which to count bloated sheep.

I have to insert this here.  All of my life I've only been sick with a cold, sinus issues, the flu possibly twice, Covid once, and the biggest issue was having my tonsils removed at 3 years old.  I did lose the end of my left pinky finger in a car shopping accident once (for another day), but other than that, my experience with illness and pain is very, very limited.  Therefore, I have nothing with which to compare my present experience. 

Our plan was to go to Life.Church early Sunday morning.  I still felt like a warmed over punching bag, so I told A I really didn't feel up to it.  Later she had to help a friend at the state fair, and I was in bed tossing and turning with what I knew was a mild fever.  Now the pain in the center of my gut had migrated to my right side.  It felt like Duane Johnson had used me for roundhouse kick practice in my side for a few hours.  I remember wondering if I was having another bout with the Wu-flu, or perhaps another of my very rare experiences with the common flu.  After A got home, she asked me if I thought maybe I should go to urgent care.  The thought of going somewhere had crossed my mind because while I really had nothing to compare it to, I was definitely in pain.  I told A I really didn't think urgent care would be helpful because most are limited and I didn't want to go the emergency room for nothing...too may people use the emergency room for a doctors office.  I told her I'd go somewhere first thing on Monday morning if I didn't feel any better.

A posed a question to friends about symptoms on FB, and a couple of my friends recommended I go in.  So I conceded and chose to go to the ER that took care of Mom when she fell last year, knowing I'd have to go there anyway if there was something serious.  

The emergency room is an interesting place.  Part of it feels like "People of Walmart" on steroids.  The level of annoying is at warp 5 on a normal day, and when in pain a full warp 14.  On top of that the chairs are less than comfortable, and the population rivaled that of a small country.  It was packed.  With weird people. And Manny...well, that one could go either way.  I knew I was in there for a few hours.  I didn't know what was happening in me.  All I knew was that I was in pain, and a pain that I had never experienced before in my life. 

I'm not going to lie.  At least a couple of times, these words echoed in my mind as I was trying to find a way to be more comfortable while waiting. They were the words of my Mom.  "Does dying hurt?"  Yikes. I'm ok with death.  I'm kind of like the apostle Paul in the bible, paraphrasing, "I'm ok staying here, I'm ok going."  It did cross my mind...could this be it?  These weren't lingering thoughts but they were there nonetheless.  Perhaps the lack of any pain meds was having it's impact.  I don't know if death itself hurts but this sucked.

After 7 hours of waiting, and a CT scan, I was being fast tracked into emergency surgery to have my appendix removed.  My initial reaction was relief that they had found that there was indeed an alien being spawned in my body and ready to burst forth from my abdomen like a stripper from a birthday cake.  I didn't care what they did as long as I felt better afterwards.  The surgery went well, and I did feel a bit better.  I thank my wife for nudging me and nearly shaming me into going in. 

It's been an interesting few days of recovery and reflection.  Here's one of the takeaways.  In the first couple of days of recovery and with limited activity, I had time to think.  Ironically one of the things I've thought a lot about this year is pain.  And suffering.  I've had some internal emotional/mental pain over the last few years with which I've done some hard core WWE class fighting. 

 At the beginning of this year I felt like God was wanting me to focus on patience.  Literally, long-suffering.  The ability to endure suffering.  I realized that I really never have had to suffer a lot.  The things that require patience though, is that really suffering?  The person cutting you off in traffic?  The annoying neighbor?  The non-stop talker in the ER?  Painful? Yeaaaah, but seriously, is that suffering?  We make it our goal in most of our life to surround ourselves with things to make us more comfortable.  not gonna lie, the heated steering wheel and seats in my truck are preeeeetty nice!  I'm not sure I really knew what pain was, therefore suffering was really a foreign thought. 

Jesus voluntarily suffered.  The suffering was way beyond anything I could ever comprehend.  The pain he endured with the hours of being whipped, beaten, scourged, and having nails driven through his flesh when he was already raw from being torn up with a cat of nine tails (look that one up); that kind of suffering I'd guess scant few have remotely experienced.  The thing that struck me this week was that all though the midst of that, he had conversations with people around him.  He was making sure his mama was going to be taken care of.  He was making sure the criminal next to him was ready for eternity.  He was making sure we were forgiven.  The only thought of self was an indication that he was thirsty, which could possibly extend the amount of time he suffered.  He deserved none of it.  He chose it. He endured it.

When I was in the most severe pain, all I could think of was, 'When is this going to end?", "How much longer?" and it was all but impossible for me to do what I had idealized, which was think about comforting passages of the bible, and praying for God's mercy and help.  I do remember getting the simple words out, "Lord please help me and protect me."  That's about all I could manage.  I have a way to go in the journey before my pain can be selfless.  My focus was fully inward, not outward. Did I learn more about longsuffering?  I believe so.  I'm having this conversation.  I also learned that I have a long way to go to truly be like Christ. Thankfully there's grace.

I prayed.  I asked God how to answer Mom honestly and as accurately as I knew.  It hit me instantly.  I opened up my mouth and with words I don't believe were fully mine, I looked into the slightly fearful eyes of my questioning Mother and replied as compassionately as I could, "Well, Mom, I think that's why the bible calls it 'falling asleep.  I've watched a lot of people die, and while I know some of the events surrounding their passing have been painful, when they actually passed, that's what it looked like.  I'm not sure, but I think it may be like simply falling asleep." 

Thank God that sufficed.  A look of relief seemed to sweep across her countenance.  And mine, I'm sure.  Little did I know that not too many hours after that Q&A session, I'd be asking how this pain would end.  The doctor did say that we couldn't have waiting much longer to come in because the appendix was pretty close to rupture which would have taken that whole night to a whole nuther level.  I could have answered that question with authority. I thank my wife for possibly saving my life.  Carl really DOES care!  However the hole in the woods behind the back fence has yet to be filled in.  Hmmmm

I don't know for sure whether or not death hurts, I think not. What I DO know is, acute appendicitis does.  I don't recommend it!  FG