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Learning about life, by facing your death
| Thursday, May 22 2008 6:37 PM
Last Updated: Thursday, May 22 2008 6:40 PM
Columnists are like vultures. They circle the roadkill (stories) left on the side of life's road, praying enough meat was left on the bones for another good chew.
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That was the case a couple of months ago, when I spotted the touching obituary Don Allen wrote for himself. Allen was a frequent letter-to-the-editor writer. His obituary presented a portrait of a man I knew only through his strong opinions on a variety of topics.
I clipped out the obituary and tucked it into a "future columns" file. A few days later, I open a Sunday Californian to discover columnist Herb Benham had "stolen" my idea.
I admit I took perverse pleasure when readers pounded poor Herb for focusing more on Allen's suicide than on the beautiful words he penned. Served Herb right, I fumed. If I had written the column, I would have done it differently.
I kicked myself for allowing Herb to beat me to the punch. That is, until I received an e-mail from Lisa McIntyre. It was a copy of her complaint to Herb.
Although she instructed the note was "not for publication," I called her and persuaded her to allow me to quote from it.
"I spent all of last year preparing to die," wrote the 72-year-old Bakersfield woman and native of Canada. "I completed a will, finished up my citizenship, was granted a home visit for the swearing-in oath ceremony, divested much of my property into readily available financial transfers, and generally got my head and life's detritus in order. I also wrote my obit.
"I have no children; my husband has gone; and I felt I could write a short and sweet note for my friends and those who read the obits like the day's diary.
"I also made plans to facilitate my early demise if possible because I have lived long enough, done enough, didn't want to go into a bed for the remaining years or months or days of my life waiting to be fed and diapered as I did in the beginning. I asked no advice, sought no approval, no sympathy and especially no counseling. In my informed decisionmaking, I was taking care of myself and my wishes.
"As it turned out the medical situation improved and I am again among the living with a future which allows me to offer up this cranky note to you," she wrote.
McIntyre's confrontation with death began in January 2007 with a routine "new patient" examination. Tests revealed a nodule on one of her lungs. At one time a smoker, McIntyre had weakened her lungs, leaving her an unsuitable candidate for a needle biopsy to determine the nature of the nodule.
She and her doctors decided to wait and see. Return in a few months to repeat the tests. At the followup visit, she received bad news. A second nodule was detected.
Rather than pursue aggressive therapies, she again decided to wait and repeat the tests in a few months. She also began preparing for the likelihood she would die.
But when McIntyre returned to the doctor, he had good news. One nodule had disappeared, the other was smaller. They suspected the tests had revealed traces of valley fever, rather than cancer.
"It looks like I'm going to be around," she told me when I called her about her experience.
"When you go through the death process you appreciate life. You learn a lot. You learn who your friends are.
"And it changed me. I talk to anyone these days. I'm really sucking up life," she said, explaining she spends less time thinking about herself. "I'm not just saying that to bargain with God. I did that last year."
What about her obituary? She said she wrote it to be fun, something people would remember. She didn't want it to be sad. It wasn't full of accomplishments and bragging. It conveyed two messages:
* Live like you are dying every day.
* If you waste one day of your life, you are cheating yourself.
Where's her obituary now? It's on her computer to be updated now and again.
She still has a lot of living to do; a lot of days not to waste.
E-mail Dianne Hardisty at dhardisty@bakersfield.com.