Some kind of stranger
Heard a couple of days ago that somebody I was in hospital with in December just died.
Wasn't anybody I knew at all, but the situation led to us having a conversation about mortality.
She was in the ward long term and supposed to be doing rehabilitation after an amputation. She was quite irritated to hear that my stay was going to be a short one because she was obviously a clever woman and the other occupants of the four bed ward were a young junkie who'd lost a leg, and a very elderly lady who was more than a little vague, neither of whom offered much opportunity for stimulating conversation.
She was annoyed at being in hospital, arguing with the physiotherapists about her rehabilitation schedule, and quite vehement about not wanting to have to have adaptations put in to her home to accomodate her disability.
I was, as you'll recall, in the vascular unit to have an artery repaired so I could have a biopsy and find out if I had cancer.
So, our conversation consisted of her expressing the view that actually maybe she'd rather just die now than go on a downhill slope of increasing disability and feebleness. At the same time she was acknowledging that I was potentially facing death without a choice in the matter and was expressing general good wishes and hoping that I was going to live.
On my side I was sympathising while also trying to persuade her that many of the things she liked to do were still possible and that friends and activities would make life interesting and worth continuing with. I remember at one point clearly thinking about the scene in Bladerunner where Rutger Hauer's character does the soliloquy about life being like tears in the rain.
So, though she was a stranger, I was sorry to hear that she didn't manage to find a good enough reason to carry on.
Wasn't anybody I knew at all, but the situation led to us having a conversation about mortality.
She was in the ward long term and supposed to be doing rehabilitation after an amputation. She was quite irritated to hear that my stay was going to be a short one because she was obviously a clever woman and the other occupants of the four bed ward were a young junkie who'd lost a leg, and a very elderly lady who was more than a little vague, neither of whom offered much opportunity for stimulating conversation.
She was annoyed at being in hospital, arguing with the physiotherapists about her rehabilitation schedule, and quite vehement about not wanting to have to have adaptations put in to her home to accomodate her disability.
I was, as you'll recall, in the vascular unit to have an artery repaired so I could have a biopsy and find out if I had cancer.
So, our conversation consisted of her expressing the view that actually maybe she'd rather just die now than go on a downhill slope of increasing disability and feebleness. At the same time she was acknowledging that I was potentially facing death without a choice in the matter and was expressing general good wishes and hoping that I was going to live.
On my side I was sympathising while also trying to persuade her that many of the things she liked to do were still possible and that friends and activities would make life interesting and worth continuing with. I remember at one point clearly thinking about the scene in Bladerunner where Rutger Hauer's character does the soliloquy about life being like tears in the rain.
So, though she was a stranger, I was sorry to hear that she didn't manage to find a good enough reason to carry on.