Thoughts of a funeral-goer

Posted by Lyra Mollington

We were both in sombre mood as we travelled back along the M4 in Myra’s bright yellow Honda Jazz. 

We’d had a slight tiff as we viewed the flowers after Trevor’s funeral.  Whilst I was keen to go back to the house for light refreshments, Myra was going on about the long drive home.  We couldn’t even agree on whether it should be called a reception, a wake or an after-party.  I’m fairly sure that Trevor’s body would have to be there for it to qualify as a wake. 

I digress.  Marjorie had put on the most marvellous spread of sandwiches and cakes.  It seemed to lift her spirits to see us all tucking in.  After circulating for a few minutes, I discovered the identity of the miscreant with the inappropriate ring tone – one of Trevor’s drinking pals.  Ring-tone Man assured me that Trevor would have “loved it”.  And that he was “all forgive and forget”.  I began to warm to Trevor’s friend, Andrew.  However, the distinct smell of alcohol was rather a mystery at one o’clock in the afternoon. 

Marjorie invited me to write in the remembrance book.  There were quite a few R.I.P.s together with, only the good die young/ miss you forever/we’ll never forget you.  And the baffling “Your (sic) a real ledge mate!”  Andrew had written, “Anything to get out of buying a round you tight bugger! Mine’s a double! LOL!” 

However, I put away my disapproving face –  these were the people who had cared about Trevor and they thought a great deal of him.  I glanced across at a room full of smiling faces and quickly dismissed my original idea of writing something in Latin.

As I tried to think of some mots justes, I looked at the photographs that were on display.  I spotted an old black and white one taken of all the cousins on my mother’s side of the family.  We were in height order: me, the eldest, at the back.  And right at the front, there was little Trevor – with his mop of blond hair and his huge lop-sided grin; not a care in the world.  Myra was right – it was going to be a long drive home.

“He thought the world of you two you know.”  It was Andrew.  Apparently, Trevor was proud of his cousins who went to the grammar school.  And although we were “a bit posh” we were “up for a laugh”.

I wrote, “You will always be our beautiful golden-haired boy with the cheeky smile.  You gave us fun and laughter.  Thank you Trevor.  Per aspera ad astra.”

Thy fibres net the dreamless head

Old Yew, which graspest at the stones
That name the under-lying dead,
Thy fibres net the dreamless head,
Thy roots are wrapt about the bones.

The seasons bring the flower again,
And bring the firstling to the flock;
&; in the dusk of thee, the clock
Beats out the little lives of men.

O, not for thee the glow, the bloom,
Who changest not in any gale,
Nor branding summer suns avail
To touch thy thousand years of gloom:

And gazing on thee, sullen tree,
Sick for thy stubborn hardihood,
I seem to fail from out my blood
And grow incorporate into thee.

Alfred, Lord Tennyson — In Memoriam

Victorian deathmyths

Here’s a collection of Victorian superstitions around death and funerals. Of course, everyone didn’t believe all of them but, even so, it’s remarkable (perhaps) how few have survived.

If the deceased has lived a good life, flowers would bloom on his grave; but if he has been evil, only weeds would grow.

If several deaths occur in the same family, tie a black ribbon to everything left alive that enters the house, even dogs and chickens. This will protect against deaths spreading further.

Never wear anything new to a funeral, especially shoes.

You should always cover your mouth while yawning so your spirit doesn’t leave you and the devil never enters your body.

It is bad luck to meet a funeral procession head on. If you see one approching, turn around.  If this is unavoidable, hold on to a button until the funeral cortege passes.

Large drops of rain warn that there has just been a death.

Stop the clock in a death room or you will have bad luck.

To lock the door of your home after a funeral procession has left the house is bad luck.

If rain falls on a funeral procession, the deceased will go to heaven.

If you hear a clap of thunder following a burial it indicates that the soul of the departed has reached heaven.

If you hear 3 knocks and no one is there, it usually means someone close to you has died. The superstitious call this the 3 knocks of death. 

If you leave something that belongs to you to the deceased, that means the person will come back to get you.

If a firefly/lightning bug gets into your house someone will soon die.

If you smell roses when none are around someone is going to die.

 If you don’t hold your breath while going by a graveyard you will not be buried.

If you see yourself in a dream, your death will follow.

If you see an owl in the daytime, there will be a death.

If you dream about a birth, someone you know will die.

If it rains in an open grave then someone in the family will die within the year.

If a bird pecks on your window or crashes into one that there has been a death.

If a sparrow lands on a piano, someone in the home will die.

If a picture falls off the wall, there will be a death of someone you know.

If you spill salt, throw a pinch of the spilt salt over your shoulder to prevent death.

Never speak ill of the dead because they will come back to haunt you or you will suffer misfortune.

Two deaths in the family means that a third is sure to follow.

The cry of a curlew or the hoot of an owl foretells a death.

A single snowdrop growing in the garden foretells a death.

Having only red and white flowers together in a vase (especially in hospital) means a death will soon follow.

Dropping an umbrella on the floor or opening one in the house means that there will be a murder in the house.

A diamond-shaped fold in clean linen portends death.

A dog howling at night when someone in the house is sick is a bad omen. It can be reversed by reaching under the bed and turning over a shoe.

Bad teeth

We like this account of the dangers posed by mercury emissions from crematoria:

Mercury is an odd element. It is a metal, yet liquid at ambient temperature and it is very volatile, easily becoming a gas. Keep in mind mercury is an element, therefore cannot be destroyed.

When mercury is emitted from the stack of an incinerator, it exists in its gaseous state while dropping to the surrounding terrain. When atmospheric mercury falls to Earth, it does so as a dry deposition. Bacteria in soils and water then convert this mercury into the very toxic and lethal methylmercury, and it is this form of mercury that is taken up by tiny aquatic plants and organisms. Fish, for instance, that eat these plants and organisms build up methylmercury in their tissue. As bigger fish eat the smaller fish, the methylmercury is concentrated farther up the food chain. This process is referred to as ” bio-accumulation.” This accumulation of methylmercury can reach a level millions of times higher than the water it came from.

Methylmercury is freely transported across the human blood brain barrier, as well as across the placenta, where it is absorbed by the developing fetus. Children with this history show a loss of IQ points, decreased performance of language skills and memory function, as well as attention deficits. In adults there can be cardiovascular diseases such as heart attacks and autoimmune effects.

Source

Top tips for funeral shoppers

Josh Slocum, Executive Director of the Funeral Consumers Alliance in the USA, is a major hero to all who toil at the GFG-Batesville Tower. Here he is talking on the telly about funeral pricing and home funerals.

It’s interesting to note the similarities with the British funeral industry, in particular consumers’ disapproval of the marking up of coffins. We unquestioningly accept mark-ups in all other commercial transactions, so why do we find the marking up of coffins so objectionable? Does it say something about our unease with a for-profit business model of funeral directing? If so, what can we do about it?

Josh talks about the Federal Trade Commission’s Funeral Rule, the sort of document we badly need in the UK. It’s very well written. What a pity the Office of Fair Trading has never written a version for British funeral consumers — or funeral shoppers, as Josh terms them. 

Josh talks, too, about the emotional and spiritual value of a home funeral as ‘personal, family event’, an alternative to turning your loved one over to strangers. In the US, the home funeral movement is growing. In Britain it has most regrettably stalled. 

Find the Federal Trade Commission Funeral Rule here. Hat tip to the Funeral Consumers Alliance to alerting us to this interview. 

People are still dying of old age. What are the damn medics doing about it?

 

Extracts from an excellent article in the Washington Post: 

I know where this phone call is going. I’m on the hospital wards, and a physician in the emergency room downstairs is talking to me about an elderly patient who needs to be admitted to the hospital. The patient is new to me, but the story is familiar: He has several chronic conditions — heart failure, weak kidneys, anemia, Parkinson’s and mild dementia — all tentatively held in check by a fistful of medications. He has been falling more frequently, and his appetite has fallen off, too. Now a stroke threatens to topple this house of cards.The ER physician and I talk briefly about what can be done. The stroke has driven the patient’s blood pressure through the roof, aggravating his heart failure, which in turn is threatening his fragile kidneys. The stroke is bad enough that, given his disabilities related to his Parkinson’s, he will probably never walk again. In elderly patients with a web of medical conditions, the potential complications of any therapy are often large and the benefits small. It’s a medical checkmate; all moves end in abdication.

I head to the ER. If I’m lucky, the family will accept the news that, in a time when we can separate conjoined twins and reattach severed limbs, people still wear out and die of old age. If I’m lucky, the family will recognize that their loved one’s life is nearing its end.

We want our loved ones to live as long as possible, but our culture has come to view death as a medical failure rather than life’s natural conclusion.

Suffering is like a fire: Those who sit closest feel the most heat; a picture of a fire gives off no warmth. That’s why it’s typically the son or daughter who has been physically closest to an elderly parent’s pain who is the most willing to let go.

At a certain stage of life, aggressive medical treatment can become sanctioned torture. When a case such as this comes along, nurses, physicians and therapists sometimes feel conflicted and immoral. We’ve committed ourselves to relieving suffering, not causing it. A retired nurse once wrote to me: “I am so glad I don’t have to hurt old people any more.”

Read the whole article here.

Quote of the day

“People come to you and say ‘Do you mind if I ask you how old you are?’ And you say ‘no’. It’s as if they want to say ‘Will you show me your arse?’ It’s some weird idea that it’s shameful to be old, something that is sick and smells bad instead of a source of pride — that one is a receptacle of years and years of being in the world. Why should I be ashamed of it and why should you be coy about it?”

Dudley Sutton, actor

Is Fear Killing Compassion for Older People?

Posted by Jon Underwood, founder of the Death Café project

“In this case, ignorance is not bliss. With death, ignorance is fear.”

Caitlin Doughty – The Order of the Good Death

The UK Commission on Improving Dignity in Care chose the 29th of February to drop their bombshell in the form of a draft report on how to improve care for the elderly. Their recommendations were dry and sensible but the Commission used their moment in the spotlight to prod at a shadowy part of our national psyche. When splashed across the media nuance was lost to the big message – we’re not compassionate enough, we need to care more. Their implication was clearly that we don’t care enough. 

Though it was NHS staff that were labelled as lacking compassion there were a lot of us who felt, deep down, that we might not care enough too. If we did how would we allow incidents like those that set this Commission in motion continue to occur. Some of these were documented by the Health Ombudsman in a migraine inducing report, the kind that you have to steel yourself to open.

And when you do you learn of Mr. D whose family arrived at hospital on the day he was due to be go home and found he had been waiting for several hours. He was in pain, desperately needed the loo and couldn’t ask for help because,  he was so dehydrated. His daughter said that ‘his tongue was like a piece of dried leather’. The emergency button had been placed beyond his reach, his drip had been removed and the bag of fluid had fallen and had leaked all over the floor making his feet wet. When the family asked for help to put Mr D on the commode they reported that he had ‘squealed like a piglet’ with pain. Truly a  horrific experience for any family.  His daughter said that ‘From the moment cancer was diagnosed my dad was completely ignored. It was as if he didn’t exist – he was an old man and was dying.’

The report continues in a totally dreadful way. You read about Mrs. H who was transferred from hospital to a care home. When she arrived the Manager found she had numerous injuries, was soaked with urine and was dressed in clothing that did not belong to her and which was held up with large paper clips. Or you read about how staff at Ealing Hospital left Mr. J forgotten in a waiting room, waiting to be told he could come in now,  while his wife died in the ward nearby. Or about how staff at Oxford Radcliffe Hospital turned off Mr C’s life support despite his family’s request that they wait until they got there. 

Can you imagine equivalently painful situations would be allowed to occur and reoccur if they concerned children rather than older people? Its convenient to blame medical staff but there is evidence of a much more pervasive problem. According to the European Social Survey Britain has one of the worst records in Europe on age discrimination. Age UK, our loudest voice on behalf of older people, says “Undignified care of older people does not happen in a vacuum; it is rooted in the discrimination and neglect evident towards older people in British society. Age discrimination is the most common form of discrimination in the UK.” 

Abuse and neglect is a crime. Horrible incidents like the ones described above are much more likely to happen to older people. These things together, I firmly believe, constitute hate crime. In the face of them it’s hard not to feel we have some questions to answer, like why these things happen and what can we do about it.

The explosive reaction following the publication of the Dignity in Care commission report was unsurprising because they almost dared to point the finger of blame at the general public. The tone of this debate is shrill and pervaded with unease. Commentators seem happy to skip the bit about what the problem actually is and focus on what should be done about it, and about this there is almost a complete lack of clarity and agreement. 

Some suggest banning the use of the word ‘dear’ to describe older people. Many say that nurses pay and conditions do not allow them mental space to be compassionate and when they are improved standards will improve too. Others suggest that NHS privatisation will only make things worse (a view one suspects they had before the report was published). Esther Rantzen is proposing Silverline, a 24-hour phone service where older people or their families can blow the whistle on cruelty or neglect. Virtually no one suggests that the Commission’s own mild and unthrilling recommendations will amount to much more than a cursory step in the right direction.

The most entertaining commentary I’ve seen was a teeth-grindingly awful piece by Allison Pearson in the Telegraph called ‘Listen darling you can’t legislate for compassion.’  Pearson thinks that “Caring is a vocation, empathy a gift”, conveniently letting herself off from ever having to develop any compassion herself. She continues “Hospitals used to know as much, back when girls with big hearts and a small clutch of CSEs were recruited to do what they did instinctively: fetch a flannel and basin to give someone a nice wash, stroke a shaking, ancient hand, share a joke over a bedpan.” Ah! The harking for the mythical past! So comforting to invoke because it didn’t exist so there is no chance of us ever getting back to it. 

Pearson is wrong on so many levels but the idea that things were better then is just bollocks. This is because the issue here isn’t about reintroducing matron or even about older people. It’s about death. The people profiled by the Health Omdudman were dying. 9 out of 10 of them didn’t live to see the report get published. Things can often go to shit when people are dying and this is where so many problems lie. Key fact: 54% of the complaints that the Healthcare Commission receives are ‘bereavement related’.

It makes sense because many of us don’t do dying very well. We don’t even like to talk about it. And when we see people who are dying we can freak out, a bit or a lot, and sometimes not do the best things. It doesn’t take anything else to cause incidents like Mr. D’s. 

So the flipside of this, is that someone who is more OK about death (and all that is all associated with it) should be better at looking after a dying person than someone that who is scared. This makes sense and there is a surprising amount of evidence of this point. Its not just nurses that are afraid of death – count me in and probably you too – but they are the ones who’ve mainly been studied as far as I can tell. G. G. Eakes studied the relationship between death anxiety and attitudes towards the elderly amongst 159 nursing staff.  The conclusion was clear: “Nursing staff with high levels of death anxiety had significantly more negative attitudes toward the elderly than nursing staff with low levels.” Vickio and Cavanaugh found that the results of their study of 133 nurses “indicate that a connection between old age and death may underlie the relationship between death anxiety and attitudes toward elderly adults.” DePaola, Neimeyer, Lupfer and Fiedler’s comparison of 145 nurses with a control group found similarly that “increasing levels of death concern were associated with greater anxiety toward ageing, especially in the nursing home sample, and nursing personnel displayed significantly fewer positive attitudes toward the elderly than did controls.”

If our problem is fear of death then what should we do about it? The good news is that in many areas we’ve never been better at it  – another reason that Allison Pearson from the Telegraph is wrong to yearn for the good old days of matron. For example, the modern Hospice movement is a magnificent British gift to the world through the pioneering work of Dame Cicely Saunders. It is noteworthy that the word ‘hospice’ is completely absent from the Health Ombudman’s report. Britain is also a world leader in natural burial thanks in large part to two decades of effort by the Natural Death Centre. There is always compelling off-centre debate on this blog. The GFG has the courage to fire sharp barbs at the big funeral chains and is clever enough to lead on big tasks like redefining ritual for non-religious funerals. There are many fantastic undertakers and celebrants and lots of great stuff is happening, like my personal project Death Café and the brilliant Order of the Good Death

Saying that this is a debate about how we care for the elderly makes nurses, care homes and hospitals the things we need to change. No one would deny that changes to date haven’t been entirely successful. Saying this is a debate about how we die would bring the focus back to where it needs to be – on the dying person and their family with nurses, care homes and hospitals there to provide compassionate support.

[Death Café works with anyone who wants to talk about death. This includes those who are dying, those that support them and everyone else. Please do get in touch if you’re minded to.] 

Who knows where the time goes?

Posted by Vale

Across the evening sky, all the birds are leaving
But how can they know it’s time for them to go?
Before the winter fire, I will still be dreaming
I have no thought of time

For who knows where the time goes?
Who knows where the time goes?

Sad, deserted shore, your fickle friends are leaving
Ah, but then you know it’s time for them to go
But I will still be here, I have no thought of leaving
I do not count the time

For who knows where the time goes?
Who knows where the time goes?

And I am not alone while my love is near me
I know it will be so until it’s time to go
So come the storms of winter and then the birds in spring again
I have no fear of time

For who knows how my love grows?
And who knows where the time goes?

Quote of the day

 

Posted by Vale

“You’d better get busy, though, buddy. The goddamn sands run out on you every time you turn around. I know what I’m talking about. You’re lucky if you get time to sneeze in this goddamn phenomenal world. … I used to worry about that. I don’t worry about it very much any more. At least I’m still in love with Yorick’s skull. At least I always have time enough to stay in love with Yorick’s skull. I want an honorable goddamn skull when I’m dead, buddy. I hanker after an honorable goddamn skull like Yorick’s.”
― J.D. Salinger, Franny and Zooey

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