Death's Short List

Wednesday October 3rd, 2018

The people on Death's Short List.  Do they feel it?  Is it like a dog that watches your every bite as you eat?  Does death widen his eyes and smile expectantly with each and every cough?

"Yes, yes.  That's a good boy.  Get it all out.  Do you grow weary of the pain?  Of course you do, child.  I see it in your tired eyes.  You have fought hard and what has it gotten you?  A hospital bed?  Tubes and electrodes?  A knowledge that the few visitors you do receive all have the same stiff-upper-lip smile?  Do see them talking to the orderly in whispers just outside the door?  How they nod understandingly as they are being deftly talked into managing expectations?   Do you know what that means, managing expectations?  It means that I am closer to you than your doctor.  

There are all kinds of little ways they prepare to give you over to me without coming right out and saying it.  The living will pull up their sleeves and dig graves without admitting that someone they love will fill them.  Listen as the orderly comes in, switches an IV bag and talks of 'making you comfortable'.  Do you know what that means?  Of course you do.

"No one has said it.  Not to you and not to each other.  But they are all preparing a bill of sale, signing, dating.  Will you wait for them to hand it directly to me?  Will it do you or them any good to fight up to the bitter, painful and pointless end?

"Understand this.  I am not God.  I am not the Devil.  I am Death.  I have but one purpose, one vocation.  Have you ever seen a car being repossessed?  Once the man in the grubby shirt gets the hook on the car there is no arguing, no bribing, no mercy.  The car is simply hauled away.

"I have my hooks in you now, boy.  Do you understand that?  Of course you do.  We can wait for them to offer up the title, hand over the keys and start filling in the grave unknowingly, or you can reach out now and take my hand.  Put all this to an end.  They will move on.  they are already moving on.  Let them.  Let them move on.  Let's you and I move on.  Wouldn't you rather this be your idea then theirs?  Don't you want to spare them that murderous worst of decisions?  The one where they 'make you comfortable'?  The one they are right now whispering and nodding to? 

"Don't you want to leave this world as someone recognizable as you?  Not a set of stats in a nurses station slowly fading to zeros and a long, straight-lined tone?  Of course you do.

"That's a good boy.  It's better.  I think you'll like it."

Reviews

[Myra Fellows]

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Hey Death. Is there only one of you? You must be straight out-even Santa has his "helpers". I do hope you will consider getting help. So many humans being kept alive on machines, against their own wishes, ignored Do Not Resuscitate orders, feeding tubes, intubated-sedation-vasoactive medications keeping the cells alive yet the spirit and soul want so badly to leave. Could you maybe pick up your game? I'd appreciate if you could send on some help. So many suffering souls who would gladly take you up on your offer-they just need your outstretched hand. We so do not like those family members who think nothing but of their own pain, their own needs, their own beliefs. Death interrupters. The prolonging of misery. Let them go we say. Make them stay they say. Hey Death-where are you today?