In Roman Catholicism, the archangel Michael is viewed as the good Angel of Death (as opposed to Samael, the evil Angel of Death), carrying the souls of the deceased to Heaven. There, he balances them in his scales (one of his symbols). He is said to give the dying souls the chance to redeem themselves before passing as well. In Mexico, a popular folk-Catholic belief regards the Angel of Death as a saint, known as Santa Muerte, but this local cultus is not acknowledged by the Church.
This old geezer went to hospital some years back to have major surgery. Having bad bones, it was time to have hip replaced as well as part of one leg bone. Nasty business. I arrived at hospital day of surgery(that is how they do it, you walk in, they carry you out), was made ready and was taken to the operation theatre.
I am a Roman Catholic and had made plans to have a priest come and give Sacrament of the Sick before going under the knife. The good father was late and the doctors were quite keen to get started. I made them wait until I had seen me priest. That done, I made sure that all was ready, as any operation is serious business.
I had placed a NO CODE on medical chart, in case something was to go wrong. I did not want any heroics done to save me life. I was ready to go.
After surgery, I was taken to a ward to watch as I was in very much pain. The staff at hospital gave me a large dose of morphine. Being one who does not take drugs, I re-acted badly to the large dose. I am told that it was very clear that I was going to die. The hospital got my mate who had my 'power of attorney' on line and told that I was too young to die, and they knew how to correct what was happening. My mate allowed them to save my life. I found out all of this later in hospital room when all came to tell what had happened. I was pissed, to tell true. I was ready to go. Not believing in suicide, I had to continue living.
The Angel of Death did not collect me, he just smiled and reminded me that he could return at any time. I saw him as a friend and made self promise that the time given would be put to good use. That is when I started being more of a community activist. I already was, just went to the max with it and made it me life's work.
You may well be asking what all of the above has to do with the here and now. If you allow me to proceed in me wordy fashion, I will tell...
There is a lovely chap living who is coming to the end of his days. The battle with cancer has been a long and hard fought one. He has out-lived the time the doctors had told he had left by many months. He has got his affairs in order. He has done all of things possible to make his passing comfortable, not just for himself, but all round.
In all of the time I have known this lovely chap, his world has been the one viewed from the hospital bed in the living room of the flat. He can see a bit of sky from bed, and with the front door open can hear the signs of life round him. He has a massive telly to watch, and this past Christmas treated self to one of the fancy games to play with. The sort that allows one to bowl and other things. This old geezer even was got to play. You could hear the pure joy in his voice at all of the folks having fun at his bedside.
My dears, do you have any idea how hard it is to be confined to a hospital bed month after month? To have others do all things for you?
Were I the lovely chap, I do not think I could handle it so well. I would pull an Oscar Wilde and quote; "Either the wallpaper goes or I do."
Sadly, some of the folks who pay a visit to the lovely man are not very nice. They come and fill the air with tales of the woes in their lives. I can not pay rent. I have no cash. I have no food. I am being forced to move. Woe is me. They turn the living room of the poor chat into the Wailing Wall. Bit hard to get round in there what with all of the folks hanging from crosses.
I told folks that it was horrid that they carry on like this. Here is a man soon to die and he does it with grace and dignity. How dare they burden him with the petty concerns they have. Show a little class in visiting.
This old geezer worked as a volunteer in the beginning of the AIDS plague. Did hospice for many. Saw that death is not greeted by all in the same manner. Some are angry. Some fight and curse. A few are afraid of what awaits them.
Then there are the folks who face death with a smile. They would rather go on living but it is time. They have nothing to fear and they have made sure that all is made ready for the visit from the Angel of Death. Many is the time I sat holding hands as Death came and saw the wondrous smile on faces of the newly departed.
I do not know what come after death. I do know that having seen many die, it must not be a horrid place. There are too many smiles. Like the lovely chap down the road from me, I will greet the Angel of Death as a friend, I will not fight but go quietly to what happens next.
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