Years ago I toured some catacombs outside of Rome. This was the discount catacombs and the tour was barely comprehensible. The guide described the beliefs of the early Christians in a shocking way. They built the catacombs because when Christ returned the corpses would reanimate and they would physically travel to Heaven. I learned the story of Lazarus in Sunday School, of course. In Sunday School it didn't sound like a zombie film. In the catacombs it sure did.
I was thinking of this lately as I came across multiple references to the story of Lazarus during the span of a few days.1 Now I've found myself thinking about Lazarus as I ponder the quirks of scientific medicine. As I look at the fallen caskets in crumbling tombs in a Lisbon cemetery. As I read about the dead cells of pigs being brought back to life. What does it mean that we routinely reanimate the dead?
The last time I saw my GP in Toronto I asked him what I could do so that my DNR would be respected. I have a do not resuscitate order on file with him, but of course no one would bother to check with him until long after I'd been resuscitated.
He confirmed that the only way a DNR will be respected is to get an official DNR bracelet and wear it all the time. Not just any medical bracelet that could be incorporated into jewelry, a special DNR bracelet. This seems a little extreme for someone without a particularly high likelihood of being in the position to be resuscitated.
Another over the top option, the DNR tattoo, is not legally recognizable.2 Even if it were, I’m not sure I’d want a bureaucratic detail tattooed on my chest.
We shared a laugh of commiseration: as two young healthy people we're totally screwed. There's no reasonable way to opt out of being brought back to life after we die. No matter what, we're going to be resuscitated.
In the end, I tucked a note in my wallet saying that I have a DNR on file and listing my medical power of attorney. I chose him because I trust him to let me stay dead when my time comes.
I also trust that if I end up unable to speak for myself, he will recognize when he's being tricked into approving care that artificially extends life. Scientific medicine is so anti-death they don't consider the way pace makers and other implanted devices designed to last a decade or more deny us an easy death. Katy Butler explains how this works in Knocking on Heaven's Door. Major decisions are treated as routine care, to be authorized without any discussion of their likely impact on how we’ll die.
It seems reasonable that medical aid in dying is controversial. I understand why family members feel they deserve to have a say in the medical decisions their loved ones make for themselves. I understand why people are against deaths that are desired because of the way the disabled are discriminated against. It is horrible that discrimination makes life not worth living. It's clear to me why these are things we passionately debate.
Somewhere in the past 150 years we have quietly lost the right to stay dead. This loss was not particularly controversial. Decisions about resuscitation need to be made too quickly for the court of law or public opinion. So the decision is made for us: it's always yes, go ahead and bring the dead back to life so they can go on to die at least one more time.
DNRs exist for those who medical professionals assume are already close to death, they’re not really meant for healthy people like me. It seems odd that it’s simply assumed that the desire to reject death and artificially be brought back to life is universal. If the right to end a life is the realm of careful ethical consideration, why are we so blasé about the right to restore a life that has ended?
The ability to bring people back to life through all sorts of measures is nothing short of miraculous. Still, I find it baffling that this is the default. We have lost the right to be human, to accept that life is fragile and temporary. Even when we don’t cling to life, medical and legal insitutions do the clinging for us.
As a woman, I've endured years of hearing ‘but what if you change your mind?!’ about my lack of interest in having children. While it's generally coming from a complete stranger who has no business weighing in on my life choices, it makes sense as a question. Who knows how any of us will feel about anything 20 or 60 years from now? The issue isn't the logic of their question so much as the way they believe it's a socially acceptable question to ask.
It cracks me up that I still get this question on the rare times when it comes up in conversation that I don't want to be resuscitated. If I am ever so unfortunate to be in the position for someone to debate bringing me back from the dead and so fortunate as to have my wishes respected, I will never regret my choice not to be brought back to life after I die. Because I will be dead.
No links this week, since I’m reading two very long books and spent a good portion of the week on bureaucratic scavenger hunts. Both scavenger hunts were mysteriously successful in the end, so I’m grateful for that!
The story of Lazarus is mentioned in Yaa Gyasi's Transcendent Kingdom and came up again in an interview with Dr. Daniel B Hinshaw. When I re-read the story, it reminded me of the way families receiving outside support for the first time so often remark on how it allows them to actually be with the person they're caring for. Of course, I'm assuming none of us are caring for the messiah, so I'm not sure how relevant the passage is.