Hell no, I am not about to commit suicide. Fact is, for the life of me, I cannot understand why some choose to snuff their own lives just because they failed in school or were rejected by someone they love. Neither am I terminally ill, although I’ve just realized that it’s been two years since my last check-up, so I’d never really know, right?
I used to be so afraid of death when I was growing up. I feared it so much that when I was around 7 years old, there was a time when I woke up in the middle of the night crying and asking my mother if I would live again if I die. Well, of course, she said yes, and I recall telling her that if I would be born again I wish to be an American. Haha! And when I heard about reincarnation, I almost wanted to convert to Hinduism, not knowing that reincarnation meant existing in another form. Heck, I would never wish to become a plant in my next life. Haha! I was so ignorant back then.
I was so afraid of the thought of dying that if I were a Hogwarts student, I am certain what form the boggart would take when Professor Lupin opened the wardrobe. (I just gave proof of my addiction to Harry Potter. Haha!)
But in the last couple of years, I have come to accept the fact that death is as much a part of us as life itself. That no matter how we try, it remains inescapable, inevitable. And no matter what anyone else thinks, I believe that the end of our lives had been marked even before we were born.
In the book “Veronika Decides to Die”, Paulo Coelho wrote that “the awareness of death makes one live life more intensely”. This truth became apparent to me a couple of years ago on two separate occasions where I came as close to dying as I ever had since I was a small boy.
In August 2007, during a medical check up for a clearance to play in our company’s basketball tournament, my blood pressure shot up to 180/120. It was abnormally high, especially that I was not manifesting symptoms of hypertension. I felt perfectly normal, and the doctor told me that I could have collapsed any time without much of a warning. Though my life was not in immediate danger, I know of stories of people collapsing due to high blood pressure and not regaining their consciousness. It was the first time that I fully realized that I could just drop dead at any moment. When my time is up, there’s nothing else I could do.
I recovered in a few days, and in the 17 months that has passed since then, my blood pressure has always been at a lot more normal 120/80.
Two months after that, I contracted Dengue Fever and was confined in the hospital for the first time in my life. My life wasn’t really threatened, though one of the two doctors who attended to me already wanted to transfuse me after my platelet count crashed to 30, from the normal level of 144.The other doctor, Dra. Tayzon of Infectious Diseases (she was the one who broke the news to Pia Magalona that FrancisM had leukemia), was more lenient. She decided to wait if my platelet count would go down to the 20s, though she also said that if I was already suffering from abdominal pains, then I would have to be transfused immediately because it means I was already hemorrhaging. The thing was, when the doctor visited me in the morning and pinched my abdominals to check if I felt pain, I had to sum up all my courage and composure to tell her I wasn’t hurt. I don’t really know how and why I did it, but I really just wanted to get out of the hospital soon enough. I felt any additional treatment done on me would prolong my stay there. And as cozy as the hospital is, I sure didn’t like the feeling of being sick and seemingly helpless. Looking back, it was a foolish decision; I could have died bleeding from the inside. What a bloody mess that would have been. Haha!
Nevertheless, there was one thing I realized from that episode. I had lost my fear of dying. My time in the hospital allowed me to contemplate and accept the fact that death is part of all of us. That no matter how strong I was, nor how young I was, I was as vulnerable to death as the next man. And to deny this enormous truth will only make it more difficult for us once that moment comes. But do not confuse this as resignation and surrender. For me, this acceptance allowed me to want to live my life more, because I am aware of the chances that at any time, everything will end. That is why I fought, that is why I refused to receive more treatments, because I wanted to will myself to live. There are so many things I still want to do with and to happen in my life. Again, a stupid decision, but it was another proof that if it’s not yet our time, then it’s not yet our time.
But there is one thing that strikes in me at least a little fear when I think of dying, and that is the possibility of not being able to say goodbye. I am not a very thoughtful person, and most of the time I am not able to fully express my love for the people who I value. I just don’t want to leave with the people special to me feeling that I loved them less than I really do. When I think of a way of dying, I actually keep on wishing that I would know in advance when it would happen, and I also don’t want to suffer too much before it happens. Not unlike a character from Gabriel Garcia Marquez’ “One Hundred Years of Solitude”, wherein she knew that she was going to die that night, bade the people goodbye and just went to sleep.
Terminally ill patients are given a lot of time to say goodbye, but they suffer too much pain from it. There are those who die painlessly, but the suddenness of their deaths deprived them of a chance to say farewell. If there was a way to die without suffering but also knowing way before when you would die, I guess I want to take that route.
But not all wishes are granted, and that is why I’m writing these words for the following people:
To my parents, I may not say this often, but I love you much more than I love myself. I wish I had made you proud, and I hope to be around long enough to fulfill every promise I made to you ever since I was a child. But if time runs out on me, please know that I did my best to secure for you the comforts that you deserve.
To my sisters, please take care of our parents. We may not be the tightest knit family that there could ever be, but I know that we are one when it matters the most.
To my nephews and nieces, you are the closest thing to children that I have. Please know that I love you all as much as I would love my own child.
To my friends, you know who you are. Thank you so much for everything. The fun times, the difficult times, the sorrows, the laughter. I will miss you all. I hope you celebrate my life more than you mourn my passing.
To all the girls I loved before (Barry Manilow?Haha!), thank you for sharing the best feeling in the world with me. I have learned a lot from all of you.
To those who treat me as their enemy, I have forgiven all of you. If I had offended or hurt you in one way or another, please forgive me. Be assured that I will never haunt you, there are no such things as imprints of a departed soul. Haha!
Of course I don’t want to have to say these words for a very long time, I still want to raise a family, start my own business, write books, have six pack abs, walk my daughter/s down the aisle and so many more. But just in case, then at least I was able to say au revoir. :)
