You arrive at the place of ultra-sound and radiology. Change out of your clothes and into those thin things with strings hanging down and open flaps that strain your sense of dignity. We all sit quietly in rows staring blankly at a grimy wall with only one adornment: a sign reading "No Smoking".
I became aware of a man sitting next to me.
"I'm frightened," his voice trembled. "Who will take care of my dog, Buddy, if I die?" he murmured as if asking the air around us. Suddenly I wondered what would become of my cats "Minnie" and "Py".
I am facing the ultimate transition myself from a dis-ease that brings about an earlier-than-usual exit. Talking about this makes me feel as if I'm talking of flight schedules, which is probably not surprising since I am actually planning for my transition and planning for it in detail. No, not my funeral. I think they are outrageously silly and unnecessarily expensive.
After my soul has slipped the bounds of earth, I'm not going to care about flowers or someone's eulogy of me which I considered to be the toast sans champagne. But it would be nice if old friends and former enemies would hold a happy thought for me. Perhaps surround me with white light.
But for the moments just before the ultimate transition and the transition itself, I'm planning where I want to be, who is there, who is not there, the music, the poems read all those things by putting every detail in legal documents. Actually, my lawyer voices a fascination with my intended process.
The Tibetans have a sacred tome, "The Book of the Dead", which is not to be confused with a Stephen King horror story. On the contrary, the Tibetan book contains prayers, songs and affirmations which are read to the nearly departed for his comfort and pleasure, and are intended to "pray the soul through Bardo," the Tibetan equivalent of purgatory. So borrowing from the Tibetans, my version which will carry the title of "Ultimate Transition List.", It will contain which quilt will touch my skin, what color candles, music choices, poetry excerpts from Eugene O'Neill's Long Day's Journey Into Night I feel such a connection with O'Neill's brooding soul.
To a moral certainty I know that the ultimate transition is not a punishment. . . but a reward a prize the gold ring on the merry-go-round. . . the Nobel. It is that moment of release from all pain when one can embrace the light! Yet, even believing that, I must confess that immediately after the doctor's diagnosis I descended into a real funk. I thought "what a bummer!!" I was having a particularly bad dark-of-the-moon night when the phone rang. Recognizing from the sound of my voice that I had hit a black hole, my precious daughter rushed over to console me. Full of energy, she bounded through the door with Peggy Lee's cassette tape, "Heart". She put it on and began singing.
"When your luck is battin' zero, get your chin off of the floor. . . you've got to have heart!"
She began to dance to the beat, singing every word perfectly and with gusto. She pulled at my arms to get me up from the sofa and soon I was dancing along in rhythm with her. We bellowed "heart. . . you've got to have heart" over and over. She turned up the volume and we danced out of the living room into the moonlight.
"Heart!" We sang. We giggled and hugged a lot that night. And then we kissed good-bye and she left. I was re-energized so I turned the tape over to hear the other side. It was the antithesis of "Heart".
"Is that all there is," laments Peggy. "I'm not ready for that final disappointment."
Well! Ordinarily, this would have affected my new good mood, plummeting me back to depths of depression. But it didn't. The message of the experience was clear I may not have control over the situation or outcome, but I clearly have control ever my reaction to it.
It's my choice as to which song will typify my life, which beat I will march to and concentrate on, and I choose happy things, heartfelt things, loving friends and family.
So I will add to my Tibetan "Ultimate Transition List" Peggy Lee's "Heart", and ask that it be played when my moment arrives.
Julia has been diagnosed with Systematic Lupus Erythmatosis, a potentially
fatal illness. She is not in remission but with the help of her medical
team she is not sitting this year out either. Her television show on Time
Warner's Channel 21 airs soon. Phone 576-4042 for astrological charts, interpretations,
and workshops.