Politics

I just had a discussion with someone who dislikes the US government. I posed the question to him whether he would prefer another government or no government at all. He suggested that all laws should be subjected to a people's referendum. He argued that representative government has failed the people. However, he did not seem to want anarchy, but mostly felt disinfranchised and disheartened by legislation designed to curtail his freedoms. I pointed out that we live in a syncitial world where everything is connected, like it or not. Government is a necessary contrivance for humans to live with any kind of order or peace. All governments are experimental in perpetuatum, subject to the people who run them. Anarchy is not effective for the safety of social numbers. The institutions of government are always faulty in that everyone cannot be pleased. Interpretation of the law is at the core of an governing party. These interpretations are prone to error, so the spirit of the government is the most solid base on which it stands. The democratic spirit where the welfare of all is the primary concern seems a good one and our American forefathers were well aware of the pitfalls of the governing body. The result is that it is nearly impossible to be fully satisfied by the government decisions. The best we can hope for is that, for the most part, the basic welfare of all is covered.

Popularity

In high school we suffer the indignities of having popularity or of wanting it. In any case, the struggle is to assure our adolescent personalities that we are O.K., and that others find us favorable. This is an extension of our childhood desire to be special to our parents, and, perhaps, preferred over our siblings. Maturity dispels these illusions and accepts mortality, anonymity, and revels in the pleasures of our new family and friends. Life satisfaction derives from our own sense of accomplishment (a large topic itself) and the pleasure seeing others, especially our children, achieve. We realize that life is a process with a termination date, and the mere popularity derived from others' pleasure of us is unachievable. After all, if another likes us or wants us we must ask why. If it's simply a match, meaning that we coincide with their likes and dislikes this means only that we agree, not that we're special in any way. Friends are people who share life with us in a way that is comforting. We learn to get our confidence and joy from merely experiencing the gregarious satisfactions of relationships. High School is left far behind. Those who do not achieve this, follow the stars, read People Magazine and wish they were what the others seem to be.

The Dugard Case

The question of why Jaycee Dugard did not announce herself after nearly 19 years of captivity has to do with the observation that, to some extent, all of childhood is a seduction. Whether it be good parents or a psychotic kidnapper and his spouse, children are taken in by the rules given them. They believe what they are told, have no comparison with which to judge, and can be induced to ascribe to the most obnoxious set of rules. This poor young girl was subjected to indignities just short of death. She quickly learned that conforming was survival, even if she didn't realize her adaptation. She became so practiced at obeying, she forgot she did not need to continue when she grew out of childhood. This is her tragedy.

Religion

There are numerous religion, all with a different style of rituals. Why? Humanity fears death and the pain of the unpredictable. Living on a planet rarely understood, people created interpretations of why things happened. The brain is a wonderful story telling instrument. Just check out your dreams. They are so creative. This brain contrives to explain the unexplainable, is driven to the security of beliefs that give an afterlife, a structure to the vagaries of every day living. Whence comes religion. Religion is ubiquitous because people's worries are ubiquitous. Religion is the solution to mortality, illness, morality, social discord and disintegration, uncertainty. There are many religions because there are many cultures, many ways of dealing with daily life. Some of these religions are designed to make the participant feel that only their view is correct. The other religions are wrong. This is the sense of entitlement and specialness each person craves. When the craving is too intense, the religious person tries to dominate or eliminate the other religious person with a different view. The result is the religious war. Religion may be essential to humanities living, but it is always a contrived view.

Being Read

It is as important to me that others read and comment on what I have written as it would be to anybody. Whatever the state of any of us, communication is crucial. That means that one speaks, one listens, one responds, and the other responds. The emotional world turns on this necessity. I see no one is reading my blog, my story, my comments. I've decided to give this a month, maybe two, and if there is no interest to stop. It would be the height of egotism to write only to myself. Though myself is important, I do not stand alone. Isolation has its compensations, but the desert is featureless, has no distinguish characteristics, and, eventually, extinguishes the traveler upon it. So, I hope for a surprising shadow, at least, to signify an object of some interest.

An Original Story called "HELLO"

HELLO

RING!

He was startled. He awoke in a jump and positioned himself quickly into a more upright posture. It was ten or eleven o’clock, he wasn’t completely sure. What would demand a call now? He did a quick inventory and realized that his wife was in the house, he had spoken to both children less than two hours ago, and there was no troubling issue at work. Why would he get this phone call now?

RING!

He reached over to the phone, and at the same single moment, congratulated himself on having installed it just where he could get at it without having to leave the chair and go into another room. In that pause he thought how Sarah was wrong and the phone was a good idea.

RING!

As the third ring commenced, he picked up the receiver and said, “Yes?” in a somewhat imperious tone, suggesting to the caller that disturbing him at this time had better be associated with a very good reason.

“Hello. Is this Syndor Marshall?” There was a quiet laugh and Syndor heard, “I don’t know why I ask. I certainly know.” And another laugh, soft and pleasant, followed.

Syndor didn’t know what to make of this, this immediate mystery. He felt a foreboding he could not understand. The forceful quality of the request and the ingrained social training that brooked no reflection resulted in his answering after a very brief pause:

“Yes. This is Syndor Marshall. Who is this?

“Syndor,” the voice spoke with a grave authority and certainty, “you are dead.”

“I am what?!” he answered tremulously.

“You are dead. Right now. You are dead.”

“Who are you? What kind of joke is this? I don’t have an enemy who would do this to me. Why are you doing this?

“It is my assignment to call you and announce to you the change in your life status. It can be done through an auditory hallucination, it can not be done at all, or it can be done through the telephone, but you are, indeed, dead.”

“But I don’t feel dead. Is this a joke? A bad joke if it is one. I feel perfectly normal. I’m sitting here in my recliner, in my library, I’m reading Conrad, half way through.” He was able to laugh again at this thought. “I’m thinking clearly. Who are you anyway? Why am I given this privilege of a phone call? Why can’t I simply be dead, unannounced, and that’s it?”

“Whatever it is in the Universe that gave me this assignment, that element must think you deserve a phone call. I can’t comment on the ethics of the situation.”

“So, you are some kind of a factotum, a mere apparatchik, a disembodied spirit assigned to give these terrible messages to people who, though already dead, are deemed worthy of the announcement of the event that has already taken place? How did you get this kind of job?

“It may surprise you to know that I don’t know who I am. I do feel a certain fullness, a certain integrity I can’t explain, but the most I understand is that I am simply on a mission given to me by someone or something to relay the message. I don’t feel uncomfortable about it. What’s strange, even to me, is that all of this feels commensurate with who I am. Yet I don’t know who I am. Interesting how the brain or spirit can be manipulated, don’t you think?”

“Also, Syndor, why do you say “terrible message?” You know life is a limited process, all things die, etc. etc. This is a kind message. Calling you like this was a very caring thing to do. At least you didn’t wake up dead with no notification.”

Syndor paused, thought a moment and said, “I think it follows, then, that you are a spirit of the Lord, an angel of sorts, and all the Biblical nonsense about God is true on some level.”

“Syndor, I can’t say that follows. I’m here without insight or outward sight. I have no idea how this came to pass. I certainly did not receive my instructions from any deity I can recall.”

“Still, your task, your voice, your message does imply a life of some sort after death.” Syndor pressed the issue.

“Don’t ask me if there is life after death because I don’t have a clue. I don’t even know think I said anything referring to life after death. I must have some personality, some history, but I’m as puzzled as you are. I must insert that I’m immediately aware that I’m not really puzzled. Apparently, puzzlement is hardly allowed to me for more than a reflective second. I’m doing my duty and my duty is to announce to you your death. You, Syndor, are officially dead. There I’ve done it. Now hang up and we will go our separate ways, though I don’t know what my way may be, or, for that matter, yours.”

“Aren’t you anxious about all this? Don’t you worry about your next moments after you’ve delivered this message.” Syndor was filled with his own anxiety and consternation at this point and wanted to drive his caller to reveal something of the origin of all this.

“I know it doesn’t make sense. I feel and sound human, but I have no anxiety. I feel pleasant that I’ve accomplished my mission. I have no concern about the next moments despite the fact that I’m feeling and talking as a human. But none of this matters, and, my mission completed, I’m ready to go my way. Accept the fact that you are dead, hang up, and we will be finished together. I don’t need this psychological investigation as to motives, existential realities, Biblical verity, and the like. Then, again, none of this questioning by you bothers me either. ”

“Do you even know who I am, where I’m at in life, what is the historical me that precedes your mission?”

“Syndor, as you ask, it comes to me that you have been quite accomplished. You are sitting in your library. You are sitting, cushioned deeply into a large leather recliner, and you have been asleep. Next to you is a book you were reading, I seem to understand it was by Conrad. Good choice. Next to you is the telephone upon which we are talking. Your wife frequently complained to you of this for no reason other than her sense of décor. She would often say, (and the voice suddenly sounded exactly like her): “Syndor, why must you have a telephone in the most serene place in the house? Why be disturbed by ringing while you’re reading or talking?” You never were able to give her a good answer and she once chuckled, “…for the Nobel prize?”

“You know all this? Syndor sputtered.

“I don’t know how I know it, but I know it. Wait, there’s more. The dominant color of the room is brown. The bookcases are made with walnut, beautifully finished by someone who took his work seriously. The illumination is strangely dim for a library, but you keep a strong light with a chain neck positioned at one arm on a small table for reading. You are a little vain about your intellect as evidenced by the fact that most of your books are in leather, selected from time to time for their appearance as much as for their content. You feel an egotistical comfort and satisfaction that you have been successful enough to afford this appealing space.

“You are sixty-nine. Your life is (or was) one of letters, writing, publishing, and reviewing. While managing your office with assorted colleagues and clerical staff important to the production of books, you sustained an adjunct professorship at the University. Finally, you enjoyed teaching and were somewhat successful. Students often returned just to tell you how much they enjoyed their experience with you.”

“Well, thank you very much.” Snydor could not help his sarcasm. “You seem to know quite a lot. Either you really are the messenger of death, or you are a spy for the government. I can’t imagine why the government would want to know all that about me?”

“Well, Snydor, I am not an agent for the government. I can assure you of that. Nothing in what I know leads to that conclusion. I must insist, though, you are dead and nothing can be done about it. This all seems silly to me. I can’t imagine why any entity would want me to go to all this trouble to convince a dead man he is dead. However, there it is. You are dead.”

“What is death?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“Is there a psyche that survives after death?”

“I can’t tell you that, ether. However, we may both be heartened by the fact that I’m calling you now on the telephone which suggests there must be some extra-life process allowed.”

“Unless this is all acting in my imagination in a bout of extremis as I die? Or, perhaps it’s merely a dream from which I will awaken. Ah, I’m going to make myself awaken now!”

“Well, that didn’t work, did it? No, Syndor. I can promise you, and I can’t explain why, that is not the case. You are being honored and complimented. This I feel I can assure you. Nevertheless, I am assigned the task to tell you that you are indeed dead.”

“This is ridiculous. I don’t feel dead.”

“As soon as you hang up you will be a corpse.”

“What if I don’t hang-up? What if I stay on the phone and feel alive. If I’m already dead, I could stay on the phone indefinitely and, at least, feel alive.”

“No you can’t.”

“Why ever the hell not?”

“Eventually, you’d have to pee.”

Death

A friend of mind just lost someone. The hospital scene at this person's demise was frenetic and painful. The patient was sometimes awake, sometimes confused. The family didn't know what to do, but finally signed a Do Not Resuscitate order. Matters were not helped by the fact that the dying man was somewhat famous, known to be a curmudgeon, but clearly in no hurry to give up this world. The IV tubes, bladder tubes, heart wires, leg cuffs to maintain lower circulation all gave the scene a science fiction quality. The oxygen mask over the patient's face didn't help. He finally died with a moment of clarity and protest that left witnesses aghast at the irony of ending life with a fist raised in the air. He did not go gentle into the night. Matters were not help by the hospital staff which alternated with great caring and concern, and a nearly gestapo attitude of "This is what we have to do so let us do it."

Can this kind scene be avoided? Can we write living wills directing our care at a time when we are helpless to express our wishes or desires? I imagine myself sitting down to write directions on whether I want a DNR, when I would want a DNR, or what measures should be taken if I were deemed terminal. As a bedside medical psychiatrist who has been intimately involved in these scenarios, I really cannot predict the quality of my own death. Living Wills and DNR declarations don't even get close to the reality of end of life issues. Do I want DNR? Do I want gobs of pain medication? Do I want anti-delirium medication? Should I get chemotherapy if my quality of life is impaired? How do I know in advance if the impairment is irreversible. How do the doctors and nurses know.?

I'm reminded of the latest hoopla about legislation offering insurance for end of life issues. Sarah Palin stood and declared this was euthanasia, that it was equivalent to eliminating grand-ma. This preposterous posturing and faulty statement making is painful to see ingested by citizens and I wonder if my compatriots in this life really accept this woman's nonsense. End of life issues are difficult enough as it is. I think it would be wonderful for money to be made available to help families deal with the drugs, hospice care, and physicians needed to decide how best to help Grandma. People like Palin, grandstanding for political reasons and espousing rancid nonsense, work to destroy measures designed to help others during one of the worst periods of their and their loved ones' lives. I have nothing but contempt for thoughtless people who talk like this with no evidence to support their self serving egos.