Last night I watched Frontline, one of my favorite documentary/investigative report style shows. Each episode deals squarely with it's singular topic with such elegant depth and intelligence, staying entertaining, thought-provoking and pertinently-informative, all at the same time. A hard task. Especially the pertinently-informative part, which I describe as "not-dumbed-down" or ruined with time-filling "additives" like telling us commonly-known "well, duh!" information or repeating the same thing over and over (ala shows like "The Universe").
I gotta say, the episode was quite the tear-jerker. Not to be expected for this type of show.
It covered the rather under-explored world of the undertaker, and how the business of preparing for a person's funereal rites are conducted by a funeral home in a small Michigan town.
They focussed on the one funeral home business and how they carefully went about their business in a "hard-look" sorta way...we saw everything from the pre-death preparatory interviews to the collection and "beautification" of the body and the conducting of the burial or cremation. But it was done in a reverent, solemn and endearing way; not at all upsetting, really.
The tears came pouring out not for the elderly folks they showed going through the process...old age and death are so hand-in-hand, it's usually not going to elicit more than an "aww..." from even the most sensitive people, since they are not relatives or friends, just strangers on the TV.
But one "customer" (no, the show was not tasteless in ever even hinting at the term 'customer' for these people, that's just my own little phraseology there ;)) was a not yet even 3-year old baby. The show filmed interviews with the young parents and the sickly baby, complete with oxygen breathing tube, as the couple made arrangements for the baby's inevitable, and imminent, passing from a rare, incurable birth disorder.
You could feel the pain this family was going through. Hit you like a ton of bricks. Later in the show, (though while leading up to it I kept thinking...ok, this is PBS and it is after 9:00, but they can't really "go there"...or will they?) they "went there" and showed the now dead baby, embalmed and made-up, dressed in a tiny, little suit and tie, lying there in a little 3 foot long casket as his family and loved-ones grieved.
Thankfully, I had a box of Kleenex nearby.
Of course, there were the inevitable memories of 1998 and little 6-year old Tascha's funeral.
I have nothing but praise for the show. It's a not-oft discussed topic, but it is so much a part of all of our lives, no matter who we are or what we believe. It took guts for the producers to even suggest the topic, and summarily, no doubt would have immediately been shot down if it was commercial television.
Especially this season.
After all, are you gonna run a "Ho-Ho-Ho...Remember to spend lots of money with us!" cheery-jingle filled commercial for something like an electric carving knife, Chia Pet or the Weed Whacker, after a scene showing a real freakin' infant corpse?
It got me thinkin' though...what happens to me? What really occurs after I die?
Naturally, the answer is filled with all the usual spiritual and philosophical unknowns, but there are certain tangible facts that are the likely possibility based on hard, cold facts.
Based solely on the facts and circumstances of my personal life situation, right now, here's how it could likely play out:
What if I died right now?
This line of text and onward would never have been typed since I would have ceased the ability to concentrate on not only the physical act of my brain controlling the muscles in my hands, neck and eyes coordinated on typing at a computer, but the entire desire and motivation to put thoughts to words would have stopped as the thoughts of what to type would have evaporated.
My body, currently clothed in a pair of light blue boxer shorts, with a pair of wire-rimmed glasses propped on the bridge of my nose, nothing more, would slump forward from the weight of my head, and pushed from the back out by my butt in the chair.
The chair being wheeled, would push out away from the weight, somewhat forcefully as I am over 300 pounds, toward the open bed. My collapsing head and top-heavy upper body may have knocked over the flat panel monitor and toppled the keyboard off the keyboard tray, allowing it to dangle from it's cord, or, rapidly slam the keyboard tray on it's little rollers back in under the desk top. The 16 ounce size plastic cup to the left of the monitor would have been flung off the surface of the desk, spraying out it's contents: about 4 ounces of Pink Lemonade Crystal Light. Another lightweight desktop item, the cube-shaped box of Kleenex tissues (used just minutes before to dry tears while writing about dead babies) would have dropped off the desk to the right of my falling corpse.
So, here I lie, sprawled out in my underwear on the floor of my little house. The only sound: the quiet whisper of the tower fan on power setting #1, and the hum of the refrigerator. The occasional tweep of some crickets or peep or blurp of some other small creature from the shore of the nearby lake coming through the open window behind the computer desk. And the bi-hourly dreamy wailing of the train whistle passing through town.
So here I lie. It's 5:03 am. One minute after I wrote the line "What if I died right now" in the midst of my post above.
The silence of this scene would not significantly be broken until exactly 6:45 am. That's when the alarm clock would commence it's chiming, starting off with a barely audible "beep-beep-beep" and within a minute or two would be blaring out "BEEP-BEEP-BEEP" since no one would be pushing the STOP button. This sound would go on for quite a while (I actually don't know if it is indefinite...interesting side question...anyone know?).
Being a detached structure several feet away from the main house, it's not likely anyone in the main house would react, if they even heard it at all. It would just be a forgettable and faint beeping to them. There would likely be other factors that might alert someone sooner, or because it is in conjunction with the un-tended alarm clock blaring.
As the morning progressed on, say to about 9:00 or so, there might be a phone call placed to my house from Jill, my boss, since I'd now be unquestionably late for work without calling in. Something I've never done before. With this job:)
But there would not be a ringing telephone sound joining the monotonous symphony of the beeping alarm and humming fridge of my room since I have long ago turned the ringer option on the phone to OFF. (Pesky telemarketers.)
Jill would, of course, get no answer, and would shrug it off, figuring I may be tied up in traffic or something. She might get more concerned as the day progressed, but she may not take action on that. Though a "No Show" would be unusual for me, (again, at this job) it's a fairly now-and-then occurance when you are a call center manager, and it would be counter-productive to raise any major flags each time it happens. We'll go with the assumption she figured I was sick and forgot to call in and would speak to me about it when I came in Friday.
Even though it is December, it is, after all, Florida, so, with the A/C off and the window open, my little house would slowly rise in temperature as the day progressed. The forecast for today is sunny and in the low 80's.
It would probably not have any immediately noticeable biological effect on my body, but it sure doesn't impede any, shall we say, "reconditioning" chemical and biological processes from occurring.
Let's go there, shall we?
Though I didn't feel any "urges" to void either urine or feces at 5:03, it's reported often that the immediate relaxation of sphincter muscles and such during death would allow the release of, let's call it, "stuff". Since I was on Hydroclorot, a diuretic in conjunction with the Lisinopril for hypertension, my bladder is (or was) never completely bone dry, so there would likely be some leakage. What's more, the chemistry of the drug may be such that it could work to continue it's duretic effects even as the cells of my body are dying, moving the cellular water and saline through the system and out the urethra. Dunno.
But, the mass of my gut would, no doubt, be busy producing all manner of bubbles and gasses. Some trapped in the curves and contours of the intestinal tract, others escaping through any nearby orifice.
Bacterial decomposition would likely start churning up throughout this day, but any odoriferous emissions may not be strong enough for any scent to be noticed by any happenstance passerby. Today, that is.
Mike's old grey dog may start to get a little antsy towards the afternoon/evening.
She would have been hearing the alarm beeping all day long, and though she's pretty old and maybe a little poor sighted, her hearing may still be up to par. She's old enough to probably recognize the sound for what it is, a sound which humans usually shut soon after it goes off, and may realize it is not a threatening sound, like say a smoke alarm. (I'm giving the dog a lot of credit in the smarts department here) But she may start now to be both a bit irritated by the non-stop sound and/or smelling a bit o' stink, not much, but she's got a dog's nose.
The Martha Stewart pewter table lamp would have been on all day, unnoticed in the sunshine from anyone outside, but now as darkness fell, it would cast it's warm glow out through the thin slats of my closed California blinds. The monitor would have long ago put itself in screen dark sleep mode, adding nothing to the lighting of this quiet and tranquil (except for this dammed beeping alarm clock) diorama.
So still, here I lie...
9:00 am or so, Friday.
Here's were some action in all this could start. Jill should really start to be concerned now. But depending on her proceedure in these things, it may or may not be very productive.
The company has set guidelines for all sorts of things. Two consecutive "No Call, No Shows" are really bad. Cause for possible loss of job since they consider it Job Abandonment.
Though we went through our recent, and unpopular afore-mentioned downsizing, we members of the current team are pretty vital and expected to keep good attendance. Jill and I are (or were until my untimely recent demise) on pretty good terms, so she might take action to avoid me having 2 No Shows on my record. Or at least get down to the settling of her curiosity of why I am out.
What's more, she knows, as likely everyone in the office knows, I live alone and have health problems. She may get genuinely concerned for my well being.
We know that if she keeps calling the house phone, she's gonna get no answer. If she keeps fairly accurate records, she should have my emergency contact phone number, Ric's cell phone.
A call to Ric at this hour will result in it going to voicemail. Ric's doesn't even think of waking up for anything before noon or so.
She would leave a message.
Meanwhile, back at this house, the beeping alarm and maybe a now somewhat stronger whiff, very strong to the dog, may be somewhat noticed by either Mike or another of the mystery tenants next door. Action, though, is a strong step to take other than maybe knocking lightly on the door or trying to peep through the window. Both likely non-productive since, of course, no one would come to the door and I don't think, with the way the blinds are closed, anyone could see in. Mike is a quite "laissez-faire" sorta guy and he may not take the option to let himself in. Plus, he has told me on a couple of occasions that he doesn't hold a spare key to the house (...why not, he's the landlord, shouldn't he?).
So now it henches pretty much on what Ric will do when he listens to the voicemail message from Jill around noon.
Though Ric fully has experienced my flippant attitude towards past jobs, he knows I value this one, so he would think it would be odd to not show up or call in for 2 days. What's more, of any player so far, he knows my health issues pretty well.
At 2:00 pm Ric bikes to my house. It's timed so that if he finds out I'm just playing hooky and being reckless with my career, he can be on his way from there to his job.
He sees the car in the drive so he knows I'm here. He knows I don't walk anywhere anymore.
He hears the blaring alarm clock.
After knocking, then pounding on the door, he moves towards the side of the house with the open window. He calls in to me. No answer.
Does he smell anything? Or does he sense something?
Hesitation...what should he do? The signs are not good. He has to get in.
He knocks on Mike's door, and hears the dog barking away, but no answer...Mike is at work, as are any other occupants.
Ric goes back to my house and tries to push in the door. It's a pretty strurdy door with a good Schlage lock. Even as he slams his body into it (being cautious of his shoulder injury, of course) it's to no avail.
Back at the open window, he decides to pull off the screen, but the opening is small. His body won't be able to fit through there. But it doesn't need to, since his head and arms can get in.
He pulls up the blinds, and leans in.
There I am.
He yells to me hoping I'm just passed out drunk, or something, or anything, just not...what I am.
Dead.
Not having his cell phone since he doesn't carry it to work with him. Ric rides to either a neighbor's home or a couple blocks to the pay phone at 7-Eleven.
He dials 911.
Ric misses work this day, and has to deal with the paramedics and police. They take my body out on a wheeled stretcher, put me in the ambulance and drive me away.
Someone, at some point during this commotion, finally turns off the alarm clock.
I gotta say, the episode was quite the tear-jerker. Not to be expected for this type of show.
It covered the rather under-explored world of the undertaker, and how the business of preparing for a person's funereal rites are conducted by a funeral home in a small Michigan town.
They focussed on the one funeral home business and how they carefully went about their business in a "hard-look" sorta way...we saw everything from the pre-death preparatory interviews to the collection and "beautification" of the body and the conducting of the burial or cremation. But it was done in a reverent, solemn and endearing way; not at all upsetting, really.
The tears came pouring out not for the elderly folks they showed going through the process...old age and death are so hand-in-hand, it's usually not going to elicit more than an "aww..." from even the most sensitive people, since they are not relatives or friends, just strangers on the TV.
But one "customer" (no, the show was not tasteless in ever even hinting at the term 'customer' for these people, that's just my own little phraseology there ;)) was a not yet even 3-year old baby. The show filmed interviews with the young parents and the sickly baby, complete with oxygen breathing tube, as the couple made arrangements for the baby's inevitable, and imminent, passing from a rare, incurable birth disorder.
You could feel the pain this family was going through. Hit you like a ton of bricks. Later in the show, (though while leading up to it I kept thinking...ok, this is PBS and it is after 9:00, but they can't really "go there"...or will they?) they "went there" and showed the now dead baby, embalmed and made-up, dressed in a tiny, little suit and tie, lying there in a little 3 foot long casket as his family and loved-ones grieved.
Thankfully, I had a box of Kleenex nearby.
Of course, there were the inevitable memories of 1998 and little 6-year old Tascha's funeral.
I have nothing but praise for the show. It's a not-oft discussed topic, but it is so much a part of all of our lives, no matter who we are or what we believe. It took guts for the producers to even suggest the topic, and summarily, no doubt would have immediately been shot down if it was commercial television.
Especially this season.
After all, are you gonna run a "Ho-Ho-Ho...Remember to spend lots of money with us!" cheery-jingle filled commercial for something like an electric carving knife, Chia Pet or the Weed Whacker, after a scene showing a real freakin' infant corpse?
It got me thinkin' though...what happens to me? What really occurs after I die?
Naturally, the answer is filled with all the usual spiritual and philosophical unknowns, but there are certain tangible facts that are the likely possibility based on hard, cold facts.
Based solely on the facts and circumstances of my personal life situation, right now, here's how it could likely play out:
What if I died right now?
This line of text and onward would never have been typed since I would have ceased the ability to concentrate on not only the physical act of my brain controlling the muscles in my hands, neck and eyes coordinated on typing at a computer, but the entire desire and motivation to put thoughts to words would have stopped as the thoughts of what to type would have evaporated.
My body, currently clothed in a pair of light blue boxer shorts, with a pair of wire-rimmed glasses propped on the bridge of my nose, nothing more, would slump forward from the weight of my head, and pushed from the back out by my butt in the chair.
The chair being wheeled, would push out away from the weight, somewhat forcefully as I am over 300 pounds, toward the open bed. My collapsing head and top-heavy upper body may have knocked over the flat panel monitor and toppled the keyboard off the keyboard tray, allowing it to dangle from it's cord, or, rapidly slam the keyboard tray on it's little rollers back in under the desk top. The 16 ounce size plastic cup to the left of the monitor would have been flung off the surface of the desk, spraying out it's contents: about 4 ounces of Pink Lemonade Crystal Light. Another lightweight desktop item, the cube-shaped box of Kleenex tissues (used just minutes before to dry tears while writing about dead babies) would have dropped off the desk to the right of my falling corpse.
So, here I lie, sprawled out in my underwear on the floor of my little house. The only sound: the quiet whisper of the tower fan on power setting #1, and the hum of the refrigerator. The occasional tweep of some crickets or peep or blurp of some other small creature from the shore of the nearby lake coming through the open window behind the computer desk. And the bi-hourly dreamy wailing of the train whistle passing through town.
So here I lie. It's 5:03 am. One minute after I wrote the line "What if I died right now" in the midst of my post above.
The silence of this scene would not significantly be broken until exactly 6:45 am. That's when the alarm clock would commence it's chiming, starting off with a barely audible "beep-beep-beep" and within a minute or two would be blaring out "BEEP-BEEP-BEEP" since no one would be pushing the STOP button. This sound would go on for quite a while (I actually don't know if it is indefinite...interesting side question...anyone know?).
Being a detached structure several feet away from the main house, it's not likely anyone in the main house would react, if they even heard it at all. It would just be a forgettable and faint beeping to them. There would likely be other factors that might alert someone sooner, or because it is in conjunction with the un-tended alarm clock blaring.
As the morning progressed on, say to about 9:00 or so, there might be a phone call placed to my house from Jill, my boss, since I'd now be unquestionably late for work without calling in. Something I've never done before. With this job:)
But there would not be a ringing telephone sound joining the monotonous symphony of the beeping alarm and humming fridge of my room since I have long ago turned the ringer option on the phone to OFF. (Pesky telemarketers.)
Jill would, of course, get no answer, and would shrug it off, figuring I may be tied up in traffic or something. She might get more concerned as the day progressed, but she may not take action on that. Though a "No Show" would be unusual for me, (again, at this job) it's a fairly now-and-then occurance when you are a call center manager, and it would be counter-productive to raise any major flags each time it happens. We'll go with the assumption she figured I was sick and forgot to call in and would speak to me about it when I came in Friday.
Even though it is December, it is, after all, Florida, so, with the A/C off and the window open, my little house would slowly rise in temperature as the day progressed. The forecast for today is sunny and in the low 80's.
It would probably not have any immediately noticeable biological effect on my body, but it sure doesn't impede any, shall we say, "reconditioning" chemical and biological processes from occurring.
Let's go there, shall we?
Though I didn't feel any "urges" to void either urine or feces at 5:03, it's reported often that the immediate relaxation of sphincter muscles and such during death would allow the release of, let's call it, "stuff". Since I was on Hydroclorot, a diuretic in conjunction with the Lisinopril for hypertension, my bladder is (or was) never completely bone dry, so there would likely be some leakage. What's more, the chemistry of the drug may be such that it could work to continue it's duretic effects even as the cells of my body are dying, moving the cellular water and saline through the system and out the urethra. Dunno.
But, the mass of my gut would, no doubt, be busy producing all manner of bubbles and gasses. Some trapped in the curves and contours of the intestinal tract, others escaping through any nearby orifice.
Bacterial decomposition would likely start churning up throughout this day, but any odoriferous emissions may not be strong enough for any scent to be noticed by any happenstance passerby. Today, that is.
Mike's old grey dog may start to get a little antsy towards the afternoon/evening.
She would have been hearing the alarm beeping all day long, and though she's pretty old and maybe a little poor sighted, her hearing may still be up to par. She's old enough to probably recognize the sound for what it is, a sound which humans usually shut soon after it goes off, and may realize it is not a threatening sound, like say a smoke alarm. (I'm giving the dog a lot of credit in the smarts department here) But she may start now to be both a bit irritated by the non-stop sound and/or smelling a bit o' stink, not much, but she's got a dog's nose.
The Martha Stewart pewter table lamp would have been on all day, unnoticed in the sunshine from anyone outside, but now as darkness fell, it would cast it's warm glow out through the thin slats of my closed California blinds. The monitor would have long ago put itself in screen dark sleep mode, adding nothing to the lighting of this quiet and tranquil (except for this dammed beeping alarm clock) diorama.
So still, here I lie...
9:00 am or so, Friday.
Here's were some action in all this could start. Jill should really start to be concerned now. But depending on her proceedure in these things, it may or may not be very productive.
The company has set guidelines for all sorts of things. Two consecutive "No Call, No Shows" are really bad. Cause for possible loss of job since they consider it Job Abandonment.
Though we went through our recent, and unpopular afore-mentioned downsizing, we members of the current team are pretty vital and expected to keep good attendance. Jill and I are (or were until my untimely recent demise) on pretty good terms, so she might take action to avoid me having 2 No Shows on my record. Or at least get down to the settling of her curiosity of why I am out.
What's more, she knows, as likely everyone in the office knows, I live alone and have health problems. She may get genuinely concerned for my well being.
We know that if she keeps calling the house phone, she's gonna get no answer. If she keeps fairly accurate records, she should have my emergency contact phone number, Ric's cell phone.
A call to Ric at this hour will result in it going to voicemail. Ric's doesn't even think of waking up for anything before noon or so.
She would leave a message.
Meanwhile, back at this house, the beeping alarm and maybe a now somewhat stronger whiff, very strong to the dog, may be somewhat noticed by either Mike or another of the mystery tenants next door. Action, though, is a strong step to take other than maybe knocking lightly on the door or trying to peep through the window. Both likely non-productive since, of course, no one would come to the door and I don't think, with the way the blinds are closed, anyone could see in. Mike is a quite "laissez-faire" sorta guy and he may not take the option to let himself in. Plus, he has told me on a couple of occasions that he doesn't hold a spare key to the house (...why not, he's the landlord, shouldn't he?).
So now it henches pretty much on what Ric will do when he listens to the voicemail message from Jill around noon.
Though Ric fully has experienced my flippant attitude towards past jobs, he knows I value this one, so he would think it would be odd to not show up or call in for 2 days. What's more, of any player so far, he knows my health issues pretty well.
At 2:00 pm Ric bikes to my house. It's timed so that if he finds out I'm just playing hooky and being reckless with my career, he can be on his way from there to his job.
He sees the car in the drive so he knows I'm here. He knows I don't walk anywhere anymore.
He hears the blaring alarm clock.
After knocking, then pounding on the door, he moves towards the side of the house with the open window. He calls in to me. No answer.
Does he smell anything? Or does he sense something?
Hesitation...what should he do? The signs are not good. He has to get in.
He knocks on Mike's door, and hears the dog barking away, but no answer...Mike is at work, as are any other occupants.
Ric goes back to my house and tries to push in the door. It's a pretty strurdy door with a good Schlage lock. Even as he slams his body into it (being cautious of his shoulder injury, of course) it's to no avail.
Back at the open window, he decides to pull off the screen, but the opening is small. His body won't be able to fit through there. But it doesn't need to, since his head and arms can get in.
He pulls up the blinds, and leans in.
There I am.
He yells to me hoping I'm just passed out drunk, or something, or anything, just not...what I am.
Dead.
Not having his cell phone since he doesn't carry it to work with him. Ric rides to either a neighbor's home or a couple blocks to the pay phone at 7-Eleven.
He dials 911.
Ric misses work this day, and has to deal with the paramedics and police. They take my body out on a wheeled stretcher, put me in the ambulance and drive me away.
Someone, at some point during this commotion, finally turns off the alarm clock.