don's report archive

Throw us a bone

Wellness in the Headlines
(Don's Report to the World)

Feedback Is The TRUE Breakfast of Champions!
Tuesday August 27, 2002

One of the most enjoyable aspects of writing daily essays for this Wellness Center is hearing from folks like you. As much as just about anyone else who writes for a living, I enjoy the kudos -- the warm, complementary notes, but I'd rather hear shots fired overhead than be deafened by silence. When nobody comments, I have to assume nobody cared, that I failed to get a rise out of anyone, positive or negative. That is never good. Furthermore, comments sometimes include valuable new information, which means I learn from the connection. All in all, then, hearing from readers is a very good thing, whether the feedback takes the form of praise or variations of slings and arrows.

Seldom have I heard from as many folks as I did after we published the DR entitled "He Died Doing What He Loved. Or, Did He?"

Here's a sampling of visitor feedback on that essay. In some or all cases, you might find these reactions more interesting that the essay! At least I hope so -- that would be a good thing, as I see it.
Hi Don -- Well, you are again a wordsmith among wordsmiths. Couldn't put it any better. I particularly enjoyed the "dead guy she had to untie." Classic. Bill Ward, Tampa, FL (WWard@tampatrib.com)
Hi Don -- I enjoyed this essay a lot. Saying that someone died doing what he loved is almost like saying, in reference to the funeral, that it's exactly what he or she would have wanted. How does anyone know unless the deceased left detailed instructions? Anyway, a good piece for provoking thought. Lenore Howe, Canterbury, NH
I can't imagine that it makes much difference what you are doing when you die, unless it is by torture. That would suck. Even so, you are dead. Finished. The race is over. As a matter of fact, a triathlete dying while doing his duty is sort of embarrassing. Think about it. I don't want anybody saying, "Guess 'ole Cole just couldn't hang with THAT workout"! Or, "Cole always thought he was one of the big boys. Guess he learned HIS lesson." Better to go by shark attack, or snake bite while doing a trail run. A real big snake! Or, alligator attack. At least then you will make history with lots of folks, not just the tiny crowd of healthy folks who exercise. Hell, everybody can relate to the dreaded "eaten by another animal" death. It would be glorious, in fact. Yes, that is how I want to go. Shark, snake, or gator. Don't all of us just want to be remembered for something? That might do it. To hell with my face flopping down in the water like a hippo in front of all my trusted friends. I want them to read about me in the friggin' headlines! SHARK ATTACK! "It was difficult for onlookers to see the outcome from the beach, but after a hard fought minute, shark wins." Can you imagine that? You would NEVER be forgotten by all 240,000,000 million in the US, plus people in other countries. It would be your 15 minutes of glory but everlasting, sort of. You would become legend. Not a triathlete doing his thing, but a person in the wild going against nature and all its ferocity! Yes, if I'm to go, which is questionable, I want to go with a bang, or bite! Cole Blair, Rosemary Beach, FL (cole@digitalexp.com)
Hey Don! I loved this DR! It is perfect and right on target! I enjoy walking, biking, swimming (don't run anymore) and hiking... these things help me to feel good about myself, give me great pause for greater good health, keep (important parts of me) in shape and provide great moments for reflection and peace of mind. But, I do these things so I can enjoy the company of others and so I can be actively involved in my hobbies, community, work life and social life. I would rather work toward being healthy and wellness oriented so I can live a fuller life, travel and enjoy a glass a wine with friends. So, I exercise to live, not to die doing these functional activities. And I sure do agree with you, too, that to die in the moment of passion has got to be awful whether it's the man or the woman left to untangle from...what a thought! ("Wake the hell up and finish and die on your own time!") LOL! Craig Washington, Tucson, AZ (jambo2u@aol.com)
Thanks Don. Beautifully written and thought-provoking, as usual...Thanks again for doing the hard work that heroes do. James A. Johnson, Tampa, FL (james.johnson@mailstation.com)
Don -- I think the "He died doing what he loved" jingle is much like the "God bless America" mantra you lampooned earlier. Both are insipid phrases of questionable sense that probably have become popular because they seem so appropriately non-controversial...re Woody Allen quotes, I prefer his observation that being bisexual doubles one's chances for a date on Saturday night. But, my all-time favorite was this, upon hearing his ex-wife had been sexually assaulted: "She claims that she was violated, but knowing my wife it couldn't have been a moving violation." Rick Clark, Tampa, FL (rickintampa@bigfoot.com)
Don -- You are almost dead-on in your essay regarding "He died doing what he loved." Dying doing what you love turns the positive thing into an everlasting negative thing: "If only he hadn't gone running/kayaking/flying/speedskating/bowling today! "

As an EMT/Firefighter and a Mountain Rescuer I have had the opportunity to see a great number of death scenes. I have one thing to say about dying: There are NO good ways to die but some are more preferable than others. Of course, everyone agrees the prolonged illness and suffering scenario is a bad way to go but so is the sudden accident wherein the wife/husband stands at the door and says, "I didn't even kiss her/him goodbye this morning." Or worse, "The last thing I said to him was take out the #$%^ trash, ya bum!"

"He went out doing what he loved." That's a nice way for the living to feel better about being left behind without a goodbye. I cringe when I hear it but nod affirmatively to the family members. Deaths associated with the active lifestyle are seldom painless. Heart attack patients describe myocardial infarction as "an elephant standing on my chest." Out-of-doors deaths are often terrible. I won't tell them that we found parts of Auntie Diane strewn down a granite cliff or that her last thoughts were of pain and terror beyond our comprehension. I won't tell them their dad suffered untold agony while dragging his failing body for a mile down a muddy trail before dying and freezing there. No, it's better that they remember him deer hunting and enjoying his last day afield doing what he loved. They picture him scanning the horizon for a whitetail or taking in the breathtaking views, not lonely, scared, and cold. But what of our lifestyle choices? Ponder this: People love smoking, drinking, and driving fast and under the influence. These things people "love" but it kills them and yet no one says about the drunk driver who dies in a twisted wreck of metal, plastic, beer cans, piss, and dirt, "Well, at least he died doing what he loved." Likewise, visit an oncology ward and you'll never hear anyone cheerfully remark between labored breaths from the oxygen bottle, "I loved smoking my favorite cigarettes and now I'm dying from doing what I loved." No, they beg and bargain for every breath and every last minute. Nearly all of us die doing what we love in one way or another.

So if we are destined to leave this mortal coil because of what we loved doing, is there a good way to go? Yes, it's when you are very old (say 110 or so), but know your time is coming. Your loved ones have had time to prepare and you've had time to get your affairs in order. Then, God willing, your ancient heart slows down, you feel drowsy, kiss your loving mate, settle into your easy chair and your life clicks to the off position as simply as the light switch on the wall.

As a volunteer fireman I was once called to a neighbor's house for a Code 99 (no heart beat). We found her on the bed in her dressing gown and fuzzy slippers, an open book was still in her hands and her head was propped up on a stack of pillows and her cat was curled up asleep at her feet. Her cup of tea, like her body, had cooled off since she retired for the night. Her old, tired heart had slowly failed and she merely dozed off for good. If you gotta go, and we all do eventually, that's the better way to leave this world. Make it so AFTER we've had our fill of our hobbies, and activities, and rasing great grandbabies.

Living well and LIVING to do the things you love? That's the ticket! Let them say today about every Don Ardell or Andy Jenkins, "He's not at work today, heck, he's out doing what he loves to do. Yes, it looks like he'll be doing that thing he loves up until the day he dies!" Andy J. (jenkinsa@cwu.EDU)

That is just a sampling of the positive feedback I received about that DR. I rarely comment on the comments, save to thank the writer for taking the time to share an opinion about the piece. The exception is when someone takes me to task, in which case I do comment, if only to agree with him or her! Here is an example from a friend of mine who also happened to be a close friend of the individual whose death while swimming was referenced in the DR. My response follows the letter, below.

You are such a pied piper of thought that everyone has obligingly jumped on the theme bandwagon you espoused. Aside from the potential insult to the surviving wife, I think the point may be missed by a too literal translation of what Mrs. Ray said. Knowing Robert, having trained and partied with him, I believe the statement made by his wife to be an accurate one. Robert did die while doing something he truly enjoyed doing. What's wrong with that statement? Compare to dying while being bedridden and in great pain. For those of you who seem to be intimating you don't love doing your exercising, it's just a means to an end, I feel sorry for you. That means many of you are putting in a lot of time on your bike, running, swimming, or whatever, and you don't enjoy/love doing it? Too bad for you. Maybe the phrase is trite, but it appears to me, after having to visit nursing homes and, here's a great euphemism: Rehabilitative hospitals, where by and large the patients remain in a fetal position twenty four hours a day, that I, for one, only can hope that when my time comes, my loved ones can also say I died while doing an activity I enjoyed, which by the way, also says I was physically capable of activity my whole life. What a way to go. Beats withering away day by day and hour by hour without a loved one in sight. Remember, Robert was surrounded by friends he chose to be with every day. Congratulations, Robert, you won, you DID die doing what you loved. We should all be so lucky. Brian C. Harrington, St. Petersburg, FL (bch@tampabay.rr.com)

MY RESPONSE TO BRIAN: Hello Brian -- For a moment there, I thought you were disagreeing with me! Seriously, thanks for the feedback.

While I mentioned Robert Ray as a recent example of seeing this phrase in play, the piece was not about Robert or his widow. Lack of consent with a phrase, even objection to its literal meaning, is hardly a potential insult to anyone. Nobody owns a perspective -- and it was this romantic but questionable perspective I questioned, not the behavior or sentiments of any specific individual.

One of my favorite targets IS literal interpretations of stock phrases, which is why I also went on a rant earlier about "God Bless America." But, that's another topic for another time. As I noted in Friday's E-AWR, consent is NOT my objective. I do enjoy being interesting as often as possible, and that goal usually invites attention to provocative issues. If everyone agreed, that would be a sure sign I'm playing it safe, and no writer delights and amuses who distances himself from controversy. Yes, I confess -- I DO enjoy seeking to delight and amuse, provoke and stimulate. Every so often, I manage to do one or the other, for some.

I certainly agree that there is nothing attractive about dying bedridden and in great pain. Yike. For that matter, I can't really think of any ATTRACTIVE way to die, including swimming. Or biking, running or other exercise. I, too, would prefer to DIE HEALTHY! In fact, I wrote a book by that title. So, we hardly disagree on the basic idea, though semantics leads to lots of different interpretations.

Did you run this morning? I did. Why? Let me tell you -- NOT because I would rather be running than having a latte at the local coffee shop, or sleeping in, or writing e-mail notes or essays or dozens, no, hundreds of other things. I salute you if you love running and other forms of exercise more than all these things. I'm amazed. I don't envy you, either. I'm happy for you. You are a dear person -- I love it when good fortune smiles upon my friends and loving exercise is indeed a stroke of good fortune. I love being fit. I love being able to compete and having the talent and whatever else it takes to do well. But, I don't love exercise. It's ok, it can be fun at times; however, it is not the activity, but the results that I most value. Too bad for me? Not really. This is not such a bad thing. I do lots of activities for the value they provide, not the thing of itself. Exercising is a very small price to pay for the benefits of fitness.

You used the phrase "When my time comes." Well, the problem is our time never comes; at least it does not come along in predictable or easily recognized form. There is rarely to be seen or felt an unmistakable signal from the Grim or Happy Reaper that you have lived long enough -- it's time to die now. What happens, usually, is we deteriorate, slowly at first and then the pace picks up and people, for religious and other reasons, ignore all manner of hints that it is time to DO SOMETHING about signing out. I'll never get elected mayor on such a platform, but what seems needed is a recognition that the choice is not between dying relatively healthy and fit (save for a unknown blockage or a truck coming from your blind side) or curled into a fetal position in a nursing home. The choice is to take matters into your own hands while you still can, or (as John Ashcroft and the Pope demand) to wait around, in a fetal position most likely, for the end to come, slowly and painfully. Of course I'd rather die exercising while otherwise healthy, but there is nothing romantic about doing so and I don't think anyone chooses to go this way, either.

Again, your suggested choice of dying while exercising or in a fetal position is a false dichotomy. There are unlimited other possibilities, some more appealing though not really attractive alternatives. Do me a favor, please. If I die exercising, don't let any MadDogs or others who say something like, "Well, Don died doing what he loved" go unchallenged." If it's not too much to ask, please say something like, "That's bullshit. While Don was committed to exercising and being fit, I know from an essay he wrote and an e-mail exchange that he would have preferred to die by his own hand or with a little help from his friends, doing something else, like sleeping." On second thought, just smile and know better. Be well, Brian.

I hope all this convinces you that I really do welcome feedback, and enjoy all of it, positive and the other kind. However, if I don't hear from you, that's OK, too. I'll just assume you agreed with everything I wrote and, more than anything else in the whole wide world, think that it would be just peachy for America and the planet if the good people of Tampa would elect me mayor! Be well, and look on the bright side. That's what I plan to do.

(Note: This essay will be filed in the archives in the MENTAL DOMAIN under the skill area of mental health. Additional articles related to this theme may be found there.)

(Ed. Note: Views expressed in this and other columns are those of the author and not necessarily those of the SeekWellness Editorial Board.)

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