The Adventure of Dying
[This is the true story of an operation for cancer. The writer, Mr. W. C. Edgar, of 1208 Second Avenue South, Minneapolis, is a well-known journalist. The incident described took place five yeats ago : since then he has had no return of the symptoms, and may be considered definitely cured.—Ed. Spectator.] ISUPPOSE the most thrilling adventure an individual ever has in life is the passage from this world to the next. Few, however, having gone far .enough on this inevitable journey to reach the border of infinity, return to tell of their sensations as they apparently crossed the line into the country beyond human ken. This, perhaps, is natural, considering the mystery involved in the translation from the known to the unknown, but I am now sure that to live in constant fear of death, as if it were some cruel monster, for ever hovering- over one and threatening to swoop down, more or less suddenly, and carry one off from all that l dear and familiar to unknown terrors, is not only to suffer in imagination a thousand deaths, but, if my experience is of any value, it is also wholly unnecessary. On several occasions during my life I had been in positions of imminent danger, when very shortly I might pass on to another world, but these had been sudden emergencies and the crises were soon over, giving no time for contemplation. It was quite a different thing to approach death deliberately, gradually to feel power and strength fall away and to be helpless to resist- it.
I had wondered especially whether at such a time the faith I professed during my lifetime would prove a stay and comfort in my extremity of need, or drop from me as a mere human fallacy ; whether fear and agony of mind, useless regrets for past mistakes and hopeless despair would not seize upon me at the end. I had heard, or read, that under such circumstances, it some- times happened that one's whole life with all its events passed as a rapid panorama over the mental vision. Most of all, I think, I feared the fear of death.
The time came, and unexpectedly, when I was to meet this great adventure. For some time I had been out of condition, but nothing of a serious nature seemed impending. Indeed my physician, with but little demur, had permitted me to go on a long and rather exhausting journey. On my return, he insisted that I submit to a thorough physical examination. I did so with the utmost cheer- fulness and optimism, believing. myself to have some slight ailment which would soon yield to simple treatment. The result was .astounding in its unexpectedness. In the judgment of the examiners I was afflicted with a most treacherous and malignant malady, commonly supposed to be incurable. I could not believe it and thought there must surely be some error in the diagnosis. Here was I feeling perfectly strong and well, except for a trifling discomfort in the region directly affected) surely amenable .to treatment, not in the least incapa- citated, with a fine appetite, normal energies, all my faculties in working order, full of life and vigour, enjoying the fine spring weather, deeply and joyously interested in my accustomed work. A long and active life appar- ently stretched out before me. Against this there interposed only the fallible doctors' dictum. It could not possibly be true. Doubtless the eminent surgeon to whom it was decided the case must immediately be - submitted, would reverse the local decision and I would be allowed to go on my way rejoicing. Perhaps, during the day or two intervening before I went before the great authority, I may unconsciously have buoyed myself up by such assurances. An assistant made the preliminary examination, only to confirm the previous diagnosis. I began to realize that my journey was beginning its downward path toward the dim and doubtful border-line of life ; toward that point where, everytbing that human knowledge and skill could do having been done, the issue between life and death would rest with a Higher Power. The realization was sobering, but not altogether dismaying, for the seriousness of the situation challenged resistance and I began to feel a desire to make as -strong a fight as possible against the 'attacking enemy. Then followed an interview with the eminent authority himself and a personal examination, which verified preceding ones. Very quietly the surgeon explained the nature of my ailment. " I endeavoured to listen atten- tively, but my mind insisted upon wandering to other and wholly irrelevant things ' - for instance the budding trees and the rippling brook at my little place in the country. In conclusion, I was told that my only chance of recovery was an immediate major operation, its possi- bility to be determined by a preliminary exploratory one. As an alternative, I might expect to linger on for a few months, more or less, in constantly increasing pain and distress, but I could not possibly hope long to survive.
I asked concerning the chances of the operation being successful and was given the none-too-reassuring statistics of previous cases. It was for me to choose and, of course, I instantly elected to submit to the operations and take the chances of living through them, rather than undergo a long and distressing illness and perish just the same. This, obviously, was the better course.
That evening I dined at the hotel with my own doctor and some friends, went to the hospital, where I found my rooms awaiting me, and wrote until midnight. The next morning I underwent the exploratory operation, of which, being under the influence of ether, I remember nothing.
Very frequently in such cases the preliminary operation discloses the fact that the disease has already progressed too far to save the patient by further surgery, but in this instance the contrary proved true, hence nearly two weeks later, having in the meantime quite recovered, I was again taken to the operating room to undergo the major and decisive operation.
Many people have been in extremis and have survived to tell their sensations. Perhaps my own case was somewhat exceptional in that I did not approach the end after a long sickness to weaken me or influence my mind. Except for the discovered growth, which it was the object of the surgeon to remove, I was perfectly well. The disease had not had time to undermine my health. I was absolutely free of drugs or narcotics, my head was perfectly clear and my mind working with unusual alertness.
Except for a local anaesthetic, applied to the affected region, which rendered it insensible to pain, I was given nothing to make me oblivious. I remained to the end fully conscious of all the proceedings ; I saw the master- surgeon in his working uniform, bending over my pros- trate body, the pretty little nurse, standing by my head, ready to give me an injection of ether should I feel the need of it, and the other attendants and assistants.
My own doctor stood beside me, watching me, and holding my wrist in his hand, observant of the fluctuations of my pulse. From time to time, I exchanged words with those near by.
Finally, I brought to the occasion the instincts of a trained journalist. I thought to myself, " This is an interesting event in which I happen to take the leading part. I am about to enter the famous Valley of the Shadow of Death, and few are they who have returned therefrom to tell the tale. Perhaps, even probably, I shall never emerge. Fortunately my wits are all with me. I am not approaching the ultimate finish like a dull and senseless clod, drugged into unconsciousness. I am able to see and hear and reason dearly, and will be to the very end. This is an unusual and very great privilege and it behoves me, as a member of my craft, to make careful and accurate notes of this adventure as it proceeds, and to be very clear concerning it, in all its details."
There was a certain comfort, almost exaltation, in this impersonal reasoning which I maintained to the finish. Meantime, the surgeon proceeded. After a period that seemed long, but was probably brief, I began to be conscious of a dual personality housed within one frame ; the external body lying prone and helpless on the table beneath the surgeon's skilful knife, and an essence of life within me, which rose and fell in alternate waves of vitality, as it were like the rise and fall of a rapidly moving thermometer. Simultaneously with this sensation of an ebbing and returning life essence, which seemed to recede further, or fall deeper, and to return less abundantly and less surely with each recurrent movement, I became abso- lutely convinced, beyond the faintest shadow of a doubt, that this life element within me was indestructible ; that, whatever happened to the body in which it ha.' heretofore existed, it would survive and henceforth would- surely be imperishable. This then, I thought, is the spiritual body, destined to survive and triumph over so-called death. It was true ; life undoubtedly persisted beyond that of the natural body. In a few minutes, perhaps, I would actually be living it. The thought made me at once independent of all human environment.
Thenceforth, I became as a purely disinterested observer of events. In the outcome I was not especially interested, it seemed a comparatively trifling matter ; if I had any definite bias, so far as I myself was concerned, it was in favour of going on into the unknown rather than returning to natural life and its vexations. As against this course, I reflected that there were others who had a right to be considered. There were my own family and friends, who naturally wished me to contin* to live, and there were the surgeon, my doctor, and all the others concerned in this attempt to keep me on earth, who were making such a magnificent fight to save my natural life ; these challenged my sense of loyalty. It was clearly my duty to play the game from their standpoint of what constituted victory and to do my utmost to co-operate with them, even if it was easier and far more agreeable to me personally to slip gently into the other world on the next inevitable recession of the life essence. As vitality waned once more, I put forth, reluctantly but earnestly, my utmost powers of resistance and so flickered back, in time to renew another and deeper plunge. Glancing at the face of my physician, as I again descended toward the border line of the natural life, I observed that it was very white and drawn. Afterwards, he told me that my heart had been alarmingly affected, and that several times he thought I was about to go. This must have been at the uttermost ebbs of the vital urge, when I asked myself if the end had actually arrived and if I was really off on the great adventure.
Repeatedly, and with lessened intervals, the process of ebbing and flowing continued. There came one moment which seemed the supreme and final throb of expiring life, but again it came sluggishly flowing back. During all this time there was no pain whatever. In- creasingly I was convinced that the vital part of me was not going to die, whatever happened, but merely to change the form and texture of its continuing existence. The absolute certainty that death, so-called, was not the end, but merely a new beginning, was pre-eminent in my mind. Of this I had not the faintest doubt, although I did not conjecture what this new life was like, nor had I any desire to speculate as to this. It was enough to feel assured, as I did, that there was nothing to fear in it.
Had I lived a blameless mortal life, which I had not, I could not have felt less remorse for the past. There was no regret for lost -opportunities, no mental reviewing of life's history, no concern whatever, either for reward or punishment to come in the Country beyond—only strong and abiding sense of calmness and peace. Most reassuring of all was the feeling that, while quite helpless myself, I was in the hands of an infinitely benign Power which cared for me and would protect me from all that was ill ; a Power whose attributes were goodness and mercy. Into this complete assurance the faith I had been taught seemed perfectly to fit, without prejudice to other faiths than mine. The whole scheme of life on this earth, death, and the certain life to come seemed to have meaning and purpose, to be harmonious, natural, and, above all, beneficent. .
Finally, the long operation was over and I still survived. I was lifted from the table and carried back to my room, to begin the long and often painful struggle back to health, during which, even in the moments hardest to bear, there came no fear of death, for my experience had robbed it of all its terrors. Wii. C. EDGAR.
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