It’s not the dates, it’s the dash in between that counts. Photo: Photo: Trish Carn.
The final taboo
Linda Banks asks whether we, as a culture, have over-medicalised death
From a quick glance at the media it would seem that anything goes and there are no taboos. Yet despite all our openness, talking about death and its actual process is still avoided by most people. Indeed the word itself is usually replaced by one of many euphemisms. To be facetious for a moment – talking about ‘when we lost Mother’ sounds like great carelessness! My thoughts on this came into very sharp focus in 2007, when John, my partner of twenty years, died after a serious illness. I awoke one night to find John in great distress and by the time I had got out of bed he had collapsed. I knew that he had died. I phoned 999 and was given instructions on how to carry out resuscitation while I waited for the paramedics. I found this physically impossible and emotionally unbearable as I was sure that he had died. Together with their large amount of bulky equipment the three paramedics completely filled the bedroom in our tiny flat and they seemed surprised when I fetched a chair to sit in the doorway.
I asked to be allowed into the bedroom to get a homeopathic remedy for shock – this was viewed with suspicion, but it proved to be the way I could actually get to sit on our bed. I felt very strongly that there should be a spiritual focus in the room. The process seemed to go on for ages and eventually I asked: ‘How long do you have to keep on with this?’ The reply was that they have to follow their protocol. I answered: ‘But he died before you came, didn’t he?’ The lack of response to that told me everything.
After John was finally pronounced dead the police had to be summoned. Our lovely little flat was then yet further invaded. There is something strange about the law that views a death like this as ‘unexpected’ and therefore requiring police intervention. When one officer explained that he had to check the body, he seemed surprised when I asked to be present. It increasingly seemed to be that John was now a statistic, as the five people present proceeded to check their paperwork. And suddenly two undertakers came and his body was wrapped very unceremoniously into a plastic bag. It felt as if this had been an unpleasant incident and that all signs of it should be removed as soon as possible.
Then all at once concern focused on me. ‘I should have someone with me – could they contact a relative or neighbour?’ There seemed to be a lack of understanding that I just wanted them to go and leave me in my home in peace so that I could call on the One who could give me strength and solace. I realised, however, that it was probably in their protocol that I should not be left alone and luckily I was able to name someone. Then they all left.
I fully understand that medical and police personnel cannot become emotionally involved in such events. However I deeply regret the complete absence of any spiritual element in what is after all the most spiritual point of our lives – the time when the spirit leaves this body, which is so often a place of suffering , to soar free into the Light. I think that death is probably much better and more meaningfully handled in those societies considered less ‘advanced’ than our own. However much we as Quakers may be prepared for our death and that of our loved ones, it seems that we are doing this in a medicalised culture that is not conducive to our highest aspirations.
