Facing mortality – why are we so scared of it?

Pottering around the house in an ad break in the middle of a random ha-ha movie monkey and I are watching, I hear a snippet from an ad for another movie. Naseeruddin Shah asks, in voice over “kya aap apni biwi ke saath discuss karte hain, har sham, ke darling tum coma me chali gayin to kitne din life support me rehna pasand karogi?” (Do you discuss, every evening, with your wife – “darling, if you went into a coma, how long would you like to be kept on life support?”). And my immediate answer is yes! Maybe not every evening, but topics like these have been part of regular conversations both in my natal home while I was growing up, and now, in my marital unit. They happen often enough that my man and my child are in no doubt whatsoever of EXACTLY how long I would wish to be on life support in such circumstances (ZERO days).

Other important conversations along similar themes include a Do Not
Resuscitate order, should I ever be hospitalized with something severe enough; an organ donation desire, for all possible organs and the whole body/cadaver if possible; the absolute desired absence of any type of religious activities surrounding death, funeral, “peace of the soul” etc; dispensation of my most prized possessions after I am gone; and much more. To me, this is beyond normal. I grew up with my parents having these conversations with us kids, and I attribute to those conversations the strength and calmness with which we as a unit dealt with my Father’s diagnosis of Lung Cancer, his rapid decline, and eventual death in 2017.

But this ad tells me that these are not normal conversations for most people. And I think that’s silly. It is, of course, in keeping with the whole Indian ethos of never speaking of serious illness (everyday ones we cannot shut up about) or death, especially with children. As a culture, we also do not say things like “after I am dead...” for fear of it happening if we dare speak it. Even if you say something like that, people around you will shush you, tell you not to say such things… as if not saying it will in any way, shape, or form, manage to prevent the occurrence. We forget that death and the possible eventualities surrounding it is the one big truth of life. Whatever else happens or does not happen to us, death will, and possibly sooner than we are ready for it.

I see no reason to not be prepared for it. Speaking about something, even something dreadful, speaking often and regularly, normalizes the event. I would rather that I, my guy, and my kid, are prepared for eventualities rather than suddenly washed away by events and not know what to do. I want my kid to know that death exists (after all it is hardly likely a 14-year-old has never faced or heard of it) and while it is painful for those left behind, it is just another part of the natural cycle. I believe the fact that these conversations have always happened at home, and without excluding the monkey, are the reason for the mature handling of the death of a much beloved grandfather. Sure, it was a shock, absolutely - it was agonising, but it was not a surprising and existence shaking event that suddenly redefined life and made it a lot less rosy.

Another day, monkey and I are chilling in front of the telly and a new ad for life insurance runs. A couple known for being careful and safe in everyday life don’t have life insurance and keep putting it off when someone tells them to get it. Monkey looks at me and goes “really? People have to be told to get life insurance?” So, my 14-year-old basically understands a truth that many people still don’t get or don’t want to face (many people in my own extended family only have life insurance for “tax purposes” if they have any at all, and have no medical insurance at all, especially not for something like “cancer”). My child, thanks to these conversations I would like to think, understands that death and illness can happen to anyone at any time. That it is always better to be prepared, financially, mentally, emotionally, for the possibility. That this very possibility makes life, every second of it that you do get, MORE precious, not less.

Why are we so scared of facing our own mortality? I know so many people who have died intestate, or are going to, because they cannot get themselves to make a will… as if one would just suddenly die the moment after it is sealed and signed! As if dread diseases, disability, medical emergencies and death are like those “Roadrunner” cartoon moments. The ones where Wile E Coyote runs off a cliff and keeps running, until he stops and looks down. As if the very act of acknowledging the existence of gravity suddenly brings it into effect and plummets him to the ground far below. As if, had he but NOT looked, he could have gone on running on thin air indefinitely. As if, if we just don’t mention or acknowledge death and disaster in any way, they will never happen, and we will just go on living healthy, endless lives, forever.

All this kind of evasion does, I find, is make things a lot more complex, problematic, and emotionally complicated when the eventualities DO come to pass. When someone dies without a will, when someone is in a coma or facing a treatment choice for some life threatening illness, and there is no plan in place, no one knows their preferences, and no one has ever thought about it, everything goes to hell in a handbasket. Every decision becomes a guessing game, and hence fraught with agonizing, guilt, uncertainty, and pain.

For people like us, foregoing chemo for a 70 year old (when it would only give him 10-12 extra months) in favour of palliative treatment and living every remaining moment to the fullest – was a no brainer. We knew that’s what he wanted, we knew that’s what we wanted, because we had spoken about it, often and at length. When the time came, to issue a DNR at the hospital, to have him taken off the life support, to let him go – that was a no brainer too. Painful, yes (and I am still reeling under the grief and loss more than 2 years down the line) but never a matter of guessing or guilt.  

And that is what I want for my people. A clear and well stated list of what I do and do not want, a clear will to avoid any future mess, and enough insurance cover to handle potential disasters. Makes life much simpler, I find, and leaves more time and mindspace for the actual process of dealing with loss and grief, rather than running around trying to fix messes and being confused by conflicting advice from “well meaning” people.