This is not a light-hearted post. Be warned.
I have a fascination with death. Don’t read into that…I don’t mean killing someone or killing myself. No. I love life too much to do myself in, and though there are people I dislike very strongly, I don’t wish death on them. But I think about ‘death’ a lot. To the point that I induce panic attacks. The reality that one day I will not be on this earth blows my mind. When I try to rap my mind around that—our lives are finite—it freaks me out [for lack of a better term]. And I don’t have any statistics, but I don’t think most people die in their sleep (my preference). The vast majority are very aware that they are dying…whether it’s murder or a painful illness or whatever. What a way to end your time on Earth.
Anyway…what sparked this post is a newspaper article I read earlier today. It talks about this seventy-three year-old-man who was awake during a surgical procedure, but he was paralyzed from drugs given to him that prevented his muscles from jerking and twitching during the surgery. The article went on to say the anesthesiologist failed to give him general anesthesia to render him unconscious [which the article refers to as "anesthesia awareness"] until SIXTEEN minutes after the first cut into his abdomen. Think about that for a minute. And according to the article 20,000 to 40,000 patients a year experience this anesthesia awareness. That’s A LOT of people. I’ve heard of this before…this article isn’t the first time I’ve read/heard about people being awake during surgery.
So this man went on to commit suicide because of this experience…he was never told that he was not anesthetized properly and was tormented about whether his memories were real…he was plagued with nightmares, he refused to be left alone, and he complained that people were trying to bury him alive. He ended up shooting himself.
Sad, huh? I warned you this post wasn’t lighthearted.
Filed under: Uncategorized
Oh Rhonda. Rhonda, Rhonda, Rhonda. We, my lovely sister, are so much alike. I need to e-mail you about this. That poor man. I just can NOT imagine. As many times as I’ve been under anesthesia (a gazillion friggin’ times!), that one thought was always in the back of my mind…what if?
OH….and can you spot the typo? Fifth sentence…
What typo!?? Me?? Where? Which word???? You know I’m anal about misspelled words, especially in this day and age with SPELLCHECK!!!
I wrote a comment about this and then deleted it because it sounded “preachy.” I think everyone thinks about this, maybe some more than others, and it’s normal, to a point. I thought about it more before I had my little scary episode a couple of years ago. Once you come that close it seems, in my case, that you realize the end is inevitable at some point. If that sounds morbid, sorry, but that’s my attitude now. Not that I am ready to go but that’s the way it is.
I guess I’ve never been scared of death, its the dying. And maybe thats what you mean. Because when we are dead, the after life we pray to deserve will be wonderful!
I’ve always asked the Dr to give me that shot before I go into the OR. I do feel for that poor man. I’ve seen the shows where that has happened. Horrific for sure.
Mankind can hurt your body, but God has your Soul!
And the typo Rhonda….RAP..should have been WRAP…but who cares…VICKY! LOL!! j/k/
Yes, I caught the typo and got tickled thinking about Your reaction when you caught it. Mary’s remark about not particularly wanting to “go” now reminded me of Channing. When he was 5 or 6 he was spending the night with me, and we were on our knees by the bed praying. I was praying out loud and said something about ” and thank you God for letting us go to heaven” something along those lines. Channing jumped up and said “I’m not ready to go to heaven Mom mom, I just want to go to bed.” I love that kid.