 |
| Image © Christina Owen |
Here is the first in our series of guest blogs. We're very excited to present a fantastic blog from Christina Owen; ambulance worker, photographer and friend of The Bucket Project:
Stare Death In the Face and Play It Awesome Music
Christina Owen
Sometimes I think about my funeral. I want everyone to wear bright colours and I know exactly what songs I want played too (Good Riddance by Green Day and Take On Me by Reel Big Fish in case you wondered). Cake will be served afterwards and everyone will, of course, cry and say how great I was. It will be a beautiful day, and if the sun doesn't shine then I'd like it to tip it down with rain all day long.
You may think it's a little morbid to picture my funeral when I'm still young and in excellent health (I'm 29 and fit and well). But the truth is that death is often a difficult subject to avoid in my line of work. I work on an ambulance, and I rub shoulders with the sick and the dying most days of the week. Sometimes I stare death in the face, literally. And when you do that for a living, as anyone working in a healthcare profession will know, you develop quite an upfront attitude towards death. Because it's happening, whether we like it or not. At some point, whether it be a long way off or sooner than we think. It's one of those things that no one gets to escape, no matter how long and hard we hunt for a Philosopher's Stone or a really, really good BB cream. It's probably pretty easy to pretend death isn't coming for you in your day to day life - unless you spend your day to day life working in a hospital or like me, on a moving mini-hospital. And then it's a little harder.
So, I plan my funeral in my head and hope that when the time comes, I will write some of it down and have some level of control over it. But I know that really, I could fall down dead and not get a chance to put anything in place. And then an awful song might get played at my funeral and I will have to just live with it (or die with it more accurately). You hear about the slightly comical situation in which a normally healthy person suddenly clutches at their chest and lets out a groan and then turns up their toes without another word. But here's some news you may not expect (and that I certainly didn't expect the first time it happened in front of me): it really does happen. It’s like - a thing. Falling down dead. I'm not saying it's time to start making a will right this second (although you’re never too young and it’s never too early) but it does mean it's okay to think about these things. You like to have a certain level of control over your life, right? After all, it's YOUR life. What about your death? It's really okay to think about these things, and talk about them too. Keeping the subject all taboo and hush-hush isn't going to make it go away.
Sometimes, for fun (!), I sit down and think about what I might die of based on what my grandparents died of. I roped my housemate into this game once too, and the evening ended with us announcing 'heart disease!' and 'cancer!' like we were playing Top Trumps. Then we laughed about it. Because, why not right? If I was suffering with one of these diseases, I like to think I could still laugh about it. Because again, being all sombre isn't going to make it not happen.
In my job, I regularly come into contact with people who are living with illnesses that will eventually kill them. I won't lie - it's difficult to know what to say to them, or what tone to strike. Often, they dictate the tone, and I find that more often than not, they make jokes. Octogenarians (or older!), whether healthy or sick often wag their finger at me as if scolding me and tell me 'don't get old!' and we chuckle, and I say 'I'll try not to!' We smile at each other, and it is usually a sad smile, because one of us knows they have nearly reached the end and the other knows they will one day be in the same boat.
If you CAN see death coming then amid the jokes you may or may not make, it's a good idea to start planning for it. Make a will so that your family are well protected after you've gone. Get a DNAR (Do Not Attempt Resuscitation) if that's what you want, otherwise should you drop dead in the street one Tuesday morning whilst out shopping, green-clad people like me will turn up and start jumping up and down on your chest like there's no tomorrow. You may not want that, and this is where the Do Not Resuscitate Order comes in. It gives you some dignity and it might reassure your family too, so talk to them about it. That way, when we turn up in our ambulance, they can wave the document in our faces, and we'll stand down immediately. Discuss death with your GP. Discuss it with your family and friends. Make the jokes if you want, or be really sombre about it - it's your prerogative. After all, it's YOUR death. And like life, you can approach it how you will. And like life, approach it loudly and unashamedly. Because like life, it WILL happen.
It's okay to be afraid of death. It is scary. I get scared about it every day (and I don't mind admitting this to my patients. After all, there's no point pretending to be a robot, right?). But don't be afraid to talk about it. And don't be afraid to tell everyone what song you want at your funeral, and what sort of desserts you want. Mine is loud American ska-punk and double chocolate. What's yours?
Christina also co-runs a blog at 100Happy, which is all about finding the little moments of happiness in life.
