We are all of us green and dying

Death is so – what’s the word – inevitable.

But Western society has attached so many negative connotations to dying that we tend to treat our mortality as an enemy. So we say there’s nothing as certain as death and taxes, and we hear clergymen officiating at funerals intone “Death where is thy sting, grave where is thy victory?”

My earliest memory of being touched by death is sitting on a staircase in Anderson’s Funeral Home in Lakefield, Ont. viewing the ritual of my grandmother’s funeral taking place below. It was somewhat frightening, especially seeing Grandma lying so still and wax-like in her coffin.

Like most people, I hadn’t been prepared for encountering death. I didn’t begin to have some understanding until I read a poem by Dylan Thomas in which he used the phrase “green and dying” to describe the paradox of us starting to die the second we are born.

Avoiding the discussion of topics that make us nervous or afraid can backfire, and make things much worse when we have to deal with them. Having the chance to talk frankly with my late wife Mary about her imminent death initially made me feel uneasy and awkward, but eventually very comforting. If she wasn’t afraid to deal with the subject, why should I be?

We had both been shocked five years earlier to hear a surgeon say that she had – at most – six months to live. But her oncology nurse asked Mary to remember how positive her outlook had been before the doctor delivered the bad news and try to focus on staying in that state of mind.

So she did.

Being strong-willed and feeling that she had lots to live for certainly helped. Mary loved her home, her devoted family and friends, even the stray cats we fed and found good homes for. Her yoga exercises helped her focus on wellness instead of sickness.

One of our biggest challenges was convincing those around us – especially people in the health care system – to be as positive as we were trying to be. When they talked about Mary’s “terminal” illness I would correct them by saying her cancer was “inoperable”. I suggested that one well-meaning social worker consider changing her business card that referred to her as an “end of life worker”.

Terminology is important when you’re trying to be optimistic. So is humour.

Before her oncologist would deliver results of tests during her periodic checkups Mary would bring a smile to his face by asking if it was too optimistic of her to buy green bananas. Her good-natured approach to her very serious health situation broke the tension and noticeably relaxed even her most serious caregivers.

Mary was fortunate to be in the care of some of the most capable doctors in Northern Ontario, but several times when they warned us that the end was near we politely replied that we accepted their diagnosis, but not their prognosis. Our doctors were among the best because they cared for their patients and made them feel like they were being cared for. They were generous with their time, as well as their medical expertise.

And they told us that Mary’s six-month forecast was based on statistical evidence. Only a higher power knows when our time on this earth is done, we heard them say.
Our family doctor was even supportive of us working with a traditional Native healer, unlike many in her profession who scoff at all so-called “alternative medicine”.

The healer lifted our spirits and helped reverse several crises. He did not proclaim to be anything more than an intermediary who could help Mary do the work she needed to do herself to fend off the ravages of her illness. He did not criticize either the painful medical treatments doctors prescribed to keep Mary’s cancer at bay, or her Christian belief system.

Thanks to the best efforts of all our healers and the support of her personal network Mary did not spend her last five years on this earth as an invalid. Her doctors all used the word “miracle” to describe this patient who traveled to her parents’ birthplace in Europe three years after she was advised to “get her affairs in order.”

On numerous occasions over the past five years I told family, friends and caregivers that I would know when Mary was ready to go because she would tell me.

And she did.

When she passed into the Spirit World Jan. 12 Mary left a hole in many hearts, but lots of happy memories with which to fill them.

Her spirit is in a better place, and shines in the night sky with all the other stars.

Maurice Switzer is a citizen of the Mississaugas of Alderville First Nation. He serves as director of communications for the Union of Ontario Indians and editor of the Anishinabek News.