Pink Juice Reflections

Taking a little control at life's end

I don’t know the exact moment my husband died.

I didn’t understand why he wasn’t entirely himself, but he was still there at home with me. Sometimes I wish I’d never called for help. But the ambulance took him to the hospital, and there I saw that they’d made him look like he was sleeping. Eyes closed, breathing, but not a trace of himself anymore. I never saw him again as the man I’d known, only fake sleeping.

I’m told he put up a fight in the ambulance, as he had at home when technicians tried to touch him, and again in the helicopter to a better hospital, but once I got there and they let me in, he was just fake sleeping again. 

When they pronounced him officially dead, it was only after they decided to unhook his equipment. No more fight, no more breath. The unhooking only came after they got permission from me to take his organs (not to do the actual unhooking, which they advised was not up to me). If I thought about that fact too much, it would be like a horror movie.

It's not until now, many years later, that I’ve come to wonder some awful things about that time. Imagine that the need for organs directed their medical decisions. I realize that sounds farfetched, but it’s also possible. When we are in dire medical need, we’re at the mercy of those who possess more knowledge. Like it or not, we have to trust what they tell us. And when their certain pronouncements come at a time when you have not slept in two nights, are far from home, and in a state of shock over the sudden frightening occurrences of the last two days, you are not in a position to question the pronouncements of those with greater knowledge.

I’m not really questioning my decisions that day. If I were there again right now, I’d be in the same situation. Nor do I suspect that the professional doctors at this well-regarded hospital lied to me outrightly in exchange for the live state of my then-husband’s organs. But isn’t it also possible that in these difficult medical situations, doctors are just making their best guess? And isn’t it also possible that needed organs could tip the scale of that difficult decision just slightly?

I don’t know. It’s a really creepy thought. A friend told me she does not agree to have her organs donated. My late husband didn’t either—he just didn’t say one way or another. And apparently, when you make no choice in that regard, it will fall to the next of kin to decide for you, even when that next of kin has not slept in two days.

In today’s medical practice, a dying person’s body parts are a gift to someone else. I received a couple of letters from the recipients of his organs. Somewhere, a person is walking around with his eyes and is very grateful to him, and me, for their vision today. The letter was touching, and I liked knowing that his blue eyes were still functioning in the world somewhere, still seeing. And now I wonder what will happen when that person dies. Could Bill’s eyes get transferred into yet another human?

Organs cannot be harvested from a body once its dead. They must be transferred quickly from a person who’s still breathing. That’s part of the reason for the high demand for these rare parts. If they could just come from a dead body, there would be no shortage. It has to be from someone almost dead, or a person that doctors are fairly certain will die the minute they unplug him. And then that person’s family has to agree to it. Hence the rarity.

I was assured that once they unplugged him, there was no further brain activity. Of course, I didn’t witness this, was not in the room when it happened, and had to rely on the physician’s honesty and expertise. I believed him, and I still do today. But isn’t there a possibility that this situation could be abused?

The organ donation people would hate this article. Here I am potentially casting doubt on their entire existence. I’m just a person with no scientific knowledge of these facts. But I’m not so confident about organ donation anymore.

In general, we’re all pretty squeamish when it comes to discussions about death. The lead up, the actual process, and the possibilities of what could come after are all things that will make a dinner party go fidgety and silent. I wish it were as natural as talking about birth, because that’s pretty bizarre too but it’s at the beginning side of the bookmarks, not the end. Also, a lot of us are just plain scared about death and maybe that’s because we’re being so tightlipped about it, acting like it’s not the next big thing that’s headed our way.

I don’t want to fear it. If I can talk about it rationally, and sort out the parts of it that I have some control over, then maybe I could let it go and get on with the middle part I’m still in. But while I’m on this topic, there’s a legal situation in the U.S. that affects my ability to let go of that fear, and it’s not just the weird organ situation. It’s legally assisted suicide.

When I can get people to talk about that, they are mostly in agreement with wanting a civilized end when their time comes. Painless, certain, and done in a place of our choosing with the people we want near. It’s such a battle in most states to get permission to let a doctor bring our timely deaths to a peaceful end. And isn’t that a little odd when you consider that it’s perfectly legal to slice into a live body, pull out their organs, and then declare the person dead? We didn’t even get a vote on that process and yet it’s been legally thrust upon us. But just try asking for a little pink juice when the end is near and see the kind of trouble you’ll get. By the way, I learned during pet euthanasia that the drug used to end life really is pink in color, hence the nickname.

I’m hoping that if there’s some kind of next life, we’re a little more civilized there. I want all my organs, and I want everyone else to have theirs too. I’d like any kind of future ending to come in a spa setting with nice music and candles. And until then, I want you all to indulge my sometimes creepy thoughts and all the ways I’d like our worldly experience to be its most wonderful right up to the last second.

Photo by Nico on Unsplash

P.S.: If you’re with me on having a legal right to a peaceful end, check out Compassion & Choices, which has all the information you’d ever need on this topic.

 P.P.S.: As life continues with its sense of irony, this article just happened to get scheduled on the anniversary of my mother’s birth—a highly-superstitious woman who was born and died on the 13^th, a Friday at that.

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