There’s something about a zero on the end of your age that gets you to thinking. Forty is that transition into middle age. At fifty you get invited to join AARP whether you want to or not. At sixty, your former classmates start showing up in the obituaries. From “natural causes”. That’s another way of saying “they got old and died of something.”
A human being is the only living entity on the planet that knows it’s going to die. This can be a blessing as well as a curse. In keeping with my life-long habit of gravitating toward the worst-case scenario, I tend to regard knowledge of my own eventual demise as a curse. I really would rather not know.
“Not being” anymore is not what bothers me. I figure sooner or later I will get old, sick, deaf, blind and bored and happily totter off to the next phase. What bothers me is how I’m going to spend eternity. No, not my soul….my body.
There are basically three choices available when disposing of a body which is no longer needed. Burial, cremation, and donation to science with eventual burial or cremation. I would be much more comfortable if there were more options available. I have serious issues with all three methods.
It’s easy to generate grandiose delusions about donating one’s body to science. One envisions an elderly professor at Johns Hopkins dressed in a long white coat delicately folding back the skin of one’s abdomen to point out all the organs and related structures to a gallery of serious-minded medical students who will be staring with inquisitive and serious gazes while at the same time taking copious notes. They would all be thinking, of course, how great this man was to donate his remains so that they could learn how to save the lives of others.
On the other hand, it is equally easy to generate more realistic portraits in the mind. Unfortunately, one is not given choices as to how one’s body will be used by “science”. Once you sign on the dotted line, all bets are off and the rules are subject to change.
One could be used to investigate the magnitude of damage done to a human groin by a .45 caliber hollow-point slug, or one could be used to determine what happens when a semi-trailor truck hits a Yugo. I can answer that one without using a cadaver. Somehow, the uncertainty of the level of indignity I could experience in the corridors of “science” makes me look at that method of body disposal with a bit of reluctance. I just can’t get past the idea that some red-neck medical student in Alabama might take my spleen home that evening as a doggy treat for Ole Rusty.
Burial has its own set of problems. I have never found the idea of lying in a hole in the ground, gradually decomposing over the next few years very appealing. They say they have air-tight and water-tight caskets, and they can add (for an additional charge of course) concrete vaults for the casket. That’s all a bunch of bullwinkie. You go in the ground… the buffet is open. Period. There is also the likelihood that you will be dug up someday by a bull dozer operator clearing land for a new Walmart. And there you are…on the six o’clock news making half the city say “ Oh yuck!” over their Hamburger Helper. Seems to me, burial is just a good living for the mortician.
Cremation sounds up front like a much less messy way of dealing with remains. All that is left from cremation is about ten pounds of ashes. They are considered sterile by federal and state governments, and can be spread pretty much wherever one wants to spread them, except maybe over pizza. There has even been a cute little word coined to describe the ashes. They are called cremains. Unfortunately, the way a body gets from its worldly state to ashes is anything but neat, so I am having trouble with that method of disposal as well.
I have given serious consideration to being stuffed, but no one seems to take me seriously, and there is a very good chance that would be illegal. I can see myself dressed in a little red jockey suit positioned out by the mailbox. I could be dressed in a Santa suit for Christmas and a bunny costume for Easter. The possibilities are endless. People would drive by my house every few days just “ to see what Jim is this week”. Of course, the downside would be roosting birds and the occasional dog marking my right leg as “his”.
Lately, I have found the idea of composting very appealing. Apparently, this method of body disposal is being considered in Sweden. So, if I am lucky (?) enough to die in Sweden, I might give it a try. Basically, as I understand the procedure, one is freeze-dried, and then hit over the head with a hammer of some kind. This results in being broken into a gazillion little pieces. Actually, I figure the procedure is a little more complicated than I have described here, but for the sake of brevity, that is basically what they do. Then the small pieces are scattered under a tree or other living plant of the deceased’s choice. Thereby, Uncle Joe becomes part of the tree, so to speak, and in a sense “lives on” since his molecules are eventually absorbed into the tree. Of course, the problem of a dog marking you as “his” is still an issue, and one must overcome the stigma of becoming a doggy bathroom if one chooses this method of disposal.
Fortunately for those of us who have serious issues with society’s standard methods of getting dead bodies out of the way, there is another method being studied in … you guessed it .. Sweden. You gotta love those Swedes.
I don’t remember what it’s called but I call it the Final Flush. Again, there is a very complex series of steps which render the body disposable, but again, in the interest of brevity I will cut to the chase. They place the cadaver in a vat of very toxic substances like lye or acetone, or maybe a diet soft drink. I am just picking those out of the air because they sound toxic. I have no idea what substances they really use. That would require research and frankly, I don’t want to take the time.
After an appropriate length of time, the body is liquefied and the resulting material can be simply flushed down the drain. Again, in keeping with my propensity to always find the down side of any issue, I must admit that I have serious safety concerns about the water table. Using the kitchen sink sounds a bit over the edge, and flushing someone down the toilet has certain negative connotations as well. Otherwise, not a bad idea. No muss, no fuss. I can even envision Do It Yourself Kits. “Say kids! Flush Aunt Mildred down the toilet in the privacy of your own home. Four easy payments of $19.95 plus shipping and handling.”
The end result of this mental exercise it to recognize that there are few good ways to die and even fewer good ways to be put away. As for now, I choose stuffing. At least I will still able to provide a little final amusement for my friends. All I ask is that my taxidermist go easy with the turkey baster.
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Kelly just turned me on to your blog; and like me, you need to blog more often! This is thoughtful, REAL, and hysterical. I laughed all the way through... but as somebody probably around your age, I see the need to think about this stuff, um, sooner rather than later! Great writing Jim. So nice to meet you.
ReplyDeleteAmy