I don’t generally listen to Jeremy Vine. Something about his style grates and I usually change over to Classic FM, Radio 4 or even local radio.
However his trailer on 8th April intrigued me. Lionel Shriver would be talking to him about the illness (cancer – an unusual form of mesothelioma) and death of her good friend and how it made her feel, and react, and in turn how this was inspiration for her new book, “So much for that.”
http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b00rxcn7
Lionel Shriver as an author intrigues me anyway. Her most famous book, “We need to talk about Kevin,” had me absolutely hooked, and afterwards I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Added to which here was a childless woman writing about motherhood. It was pretty impressive. So when her next book, “Post Birthday World,” came out I bought it and saved it up to savour on holiday. Sadly I was very disappointed. If I hadn’t run out of books to read I probably wouldn’t have finished it.
Anyway, back to Jeremy Vine.
The interview focussed on how Lionel reacted to her good friend’s news of cancer and then the subsequent illness. How at first she supported and visited and phoned and then gradually this supporting faded into the background and over time her visits and phone calls diminished. She seemed to be beating herself up about the way in which she handled the situation. She then talked about how her friend had blocked communication about her imminent death, therefore depriving Lionel, and the friend’s husband and even herself, the patient, of the opportunity to talk about what was happening.
This seems very odd to me. Lacking in insight, perhaps? An inability to see her friend’s reaction to her illness as a way of coping, and as selfish? Who’s need would it have satisfied to discuss more openly what was happening?
Is there anyone out there who listened? Anyone like to listen through the link? (only two days to go)
I’d be interested to hear what you think.
Boadicea's Chariot 
A review of the book:
http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/2010/mar/28/lionel-shriver-so-much-for-that
Pseu; I haven’t heard this one. To be honest, I would be either completely hooked or switch it off straight away, depending on whether I could handle listenig to it at the time, I think.
A very close friend died from breast cancer in 2008; I was the same, in reaction, to Lionel Shriver, I think. Then a few other close acquaintances died of cancer too. whole thing totally shook me up; I’d never experienced that sort of thing.
I still beat myself up, on occasion, about my shallow reaction, the way I didn’t get in touch in the last few weeks. But on balance, I think it’s a survival thing – a coping mechanism, if you will. Not a good excuse though
The problem, it seems to me, is that Shriver wanted something like an insight on dying from her friend, that she had expectations about how the experience could be enlightening about death, about life, that she needed to have the meaning of dying discussed. As a writer, someone who filters the world and experience through words, and perhaps as an American (we have some near unshakeable conviction that talking solves all emotional mysteries), Shriver was disappointed about her friend’s inability to speak openly about dying. That ignores a lot of things. Foremost, the difference between people and their reactions to death, what fears death triggers and how the person handles fear. I think that dying takes place on such a deep and cellular level that it’s often not possible to experience it on a conscious level. Much less talk about it. This seems to be the first death of someone close that Shriver has experienced. Sadly, more will follow.
Hi Jaime; I agree totally with you. My husband had to attend a funeral of a friend last week – I would have gone too myself, but we decided against allowing our kids to transform it into some kind of pantomime.
He was saying much the same; that he deals with it by talking, analysis, philosophy – whereas the British are very ‘stiff upper lip’ in reaction. But we all have our own way of dealing with the death of other people; it is such a personal thing. It is such a primeval, deeply emotional experience for me that I find it to intellectualise it at all
Interesting post and comments.
I think if you’re dying it must be difficult, at times, not to resent those around you who aren’t. This feeling would intensify, in my opinion, if there were any hint that they were using you for their own purposes, even unwittingly.
I’m off now for my last training swim before Swimathon….. (which is on this coming Saturday)
will be back later to pick up on discussion
TTFN
An old friend of mine died from cancer more than one year ago. I took him to hospital a couple of times.
My only regret is I couldn’t accompany him during his last two visits.
To me and to him, being believers, death is like sending him to abroad, to meet again.
Coincidentally he was a fan of Honda Goldwing, the bike on Val’s post.
Death is an inevitable and inescapable end to living. We all deal with both in different ways; as in life, it is up to the individual as to how to cope with it.
No one can tell you how to live, although one learns from experience, but death is something that one cannot rehearse. You can devise a plan, but it may not quite work at as expected; a bit like life really.
That said, our culture seems unable to deal with it, whereas other cultures handle it rather better.
Have not read the book or heard the link, but understand the dilemmas completely. Funnily enough, I have been meaning to write something along similar lines. I have had several friends die in the past couple of months, all of them far too young. Others has contracted cancer and are expected to die while others are in remission. We live in a period where life expectancy has never been so high and as a result, we are not used to death. Death is an enigma to us. It is almost anti-social. It should not be. I am tempted to say, but only because I cant beat it, death happens and mourning is self indulgent. Get over it.
Interesting timing, this, Pseu as I took part in a palliative care review today. It’s something I hadn’t thought through, that working in the health service would entail witnessing the decline of some very special, notable and lovely people.
So I know that everyone’s different and every family and group of friends react in different ways. To see someone’s body deteriorate dramatically before your eyes can be a frightening reminder of your own mortality. I can see how subconsciously, someone would turn away in order to continue to think of their friend as she always was.
Seeing someone who love who is dying is awful but something inside me says you wouldn’t be much of a friend if you couldn’t be there for them continuing the friendship, bad taste jokes, the gossip, to just remember stuff shared.
Some patients who are dying completely refuse to acknowledge it and while that is their choice, it makes it very difficult for their closest friends and relatives to talk about stuff which it would be healthier to discuss openly. It is a great shame, but there it is. Personally, I think I’d have to talk about it, write about it, celebrate with my friends while I still could, say thanks to everyone I love and bow out, confident that it’s both an end and a new beginning.
Death happens, yes Sipu but mourning isn’t self-indulgent. I think it’s a necessity.
Thank you all for interesting comments.
From my perspective I felt that the interview illustrated a selfishness in expecting the patient to openly discuss her death as it would have made it easier for those around her: why should a patient conform to what someone may expect of them?
I have lost 2 close friends to breast cancer, plus another friend to cancer and another to suicide over the years. The eldest of these was in her mid-50s. Each and everyone of them dealt with the knowledge differently. The first knew how ill she was, but did not want to talk about it to friends, but I know she confided in a vicar. The second was completely open about her diagnosis and dared me not to break down and cry as that was not what she wanted from me. “I need you to be strong.”
The third was factual about her death and saw it as part of her life’s journey.
In a professional role I find some patients can talk about dying to me as a nurse, but wouldn’t speak so openly to friends and family.
You are right, Jan about working in the health service.
People that wish to ‘celebrate’ death should try it themselves sometime, probably the sooner the better!
You would be surprised to see how many people get a vicarious thrill out of the drama of death, someone else’s of course. It is generally cloaked with a veneer of ‘caring’.
Most modern Western humanity don’t do death well, haven’t got the balls for it anymore. Few have the self control to do death as the dying wish to do it, they would prefer to do the drama of their own emotional feelings and reactions, whilst living.
Pretty piss poor humans all round really.
Pseu I don’t think your 13 is too far off as a professional observation.
PS. And God preserve all from bereavement counsellors!
Best kept at the end of a barge pole.
Thank you Pseu, for this interesting post.
Due to a radical career change to fight off starvation, I worked as a nurse in my young days and had to learn to deal with death. To me, working with people on their last weeks and days, death indeed became a “celebration”, not for religious reasons, but for the purpose to see an end to the suffering. I do remember the terrible fear some patients displayed in their last moments.
Death in general is a huge topic; most people can’t even live properly, so how are they expected to know how to die, or how to react to it. It is the most final experience in human life.
What still intrigues me up to today is that a dead body is just that, even minutes after dying. The life force is gone. But that is another topic, I guess.
If that was aimed at my comment, Christina, you have wrong end of stick. I wasn’t talking about celebrating death but celebrating the life you’ve had with people who’ve meant something to you. And I didn’t mean a big wake-like party, although that may appeal to some, but just making sure you see everyone you need to see. That’s all. Seems like perfect sense to me, anyway 😀
Rainer, yes yes and yes. Sometimes, death, as it was for my mother, is a welcome release. Re your last paragraph, yes I have felt that too.
Shriver sounds one selfish b… far more concerned about her own ‘interests’ than her friends needs – so I didn’t listen.
As far as I’m concerned there’s only one person who has the right to determine how they die, and that’s the one dying. I would imagine it is very hard for professionals working with the dying to be sure that they are doing what that person wants.
In the past 8 years I have lost my mum, my favourite auntie, her husband, a fascinating uncle and her eldest daughter (all in the space of a year of each other) to cancer and one of my good friends died suddenly.
I have not read or heard of this author but more than feel I have had my fair share of death in the most recent part of my life. My mum had fought cancer for 7 years or more and in the end, death was a welcome relief to her. She even asked my permission to die-it was the hardest and strangest conversation I have ever had…how do you cope in a situation like that, of course I didn’t want her to die, but she needed my blessing to go. I gave it, what else could I do, but it was by and away the most difficult thing that I have ever done.
My partner can’t even say that his mum has died-she has passed on in his eyes, if I can even get him to admit that. My mum is dead, her spirit is living on, not sure where, but I saw her leave her body. I think that us ‘westerners’ need the pomp and ceromony of the funeral and all the hand wringing grief that it comes with to accept the fact that a person has gone. I know with my mum I drew great strength from the fact that there was barely standing room only at her funeral, it showed what an impact she had had on many peoples lives. I (still) draw great satisfaction, I think is the word, in all of the sympathy cards we recieved, all the kind words said about her.
Death is a funny old thing, one of the only guarentee’s in this life. Some deal with it in humour, some with remorse, regret and guilt, some do want to celebrate, but I think that is more about the person being a person and their life rather than celebrating the fact that they have gone.
xxx
Hello Kate, nice to meet you. What an awful lot you and your family have had to dope with in the last few years.
Death is one of the only things in life that will happen to everyone, you are right.
Bao, I agree, “there’s only one person who has the right to determine how they die, and that’s the one dying” – the gist of my blog really.
And yes, Rainer, you make a very interesting few points.
A person becomes a body, just like that.
Thanks Pseu.
I was particularly horrified to learn that a ‘professional’ told both my step-father and my mother that they should accept that my step-father was dying. They both knew it, they didn’t need an outsider to tell them, neither ‘pretended’ that it was otherwise – they simply did not talk about it. Their choice, their way of dealing with it and their right to do so.
I don’t know exactly what my mother said to the woman – but I’m pretty sure that she will never intervene in such a high-handed manner again – and neither should she.
Boadicea,
I feel your statement,
“I would imagine it is very hard for professionals working with the dying to be sure that they are doing what that person wants,” just about sums it up. It is often a very difficult area to navigate successfully, but when it goes well it can be a very fulfilling role.
One friend who nursed her partner recently, at home and until she died, commented upon the ‘head on one side’ ‘obviously done a care of the dying course’ manner of their Macmilan nurse, which didn’t go down well with her, compared with the down to earth practical manner of others.
Has made me acutely aware of my body language in certain situations.