Things we can’t get enough of…

Breathe Me

Help, I have done it again
I have been here many times before
Hurt myself again today
And, the worst part is there’s no-one else to blame

Be my friend
Hold me, wrap me up
Unfold me
I am small
I’m needy
Warm me up
And breathe me

Ouch I have lost myself again
Lost myself and I am nowhere to be found,
Yeah I think that I might break
I’ve lost myself again and I feel unsafe

Be my friend
Hold me, wrap me up
Unfold me
I am small
I’m needy
Warm me up
And breathe me

Be my friend
Hold me, wrap me up
Unfold me
I am small
I’m needy
Warm me up
And breathe me

The Six Feet Under Convention will be held in Bournemouth 12-14 August 2011. Official website here.

What hospitals advise the bereaved

If dying really is “an awfully big adventure” an NHS hospital seems an unpropitious point of departure. Most of us don’t want to die in one; most of us (58 per cent) will. Most of us think home is the best place. What’s not so well known is that many of those who have cared for a dying person at home are not so sure. Dying sometimes needs expert and attentive supervision.

It is normally evident when a dying person reaches the home straight. Perhaps the great adventure can be said to begin here. Is it an occasion hospital staff rise to? Do they switch to event mode and mark the passage in any particular ritual (okay, procedural) way? You’ll have your own take on that. And let us concede that practicalities may not always permit a fitting playing out of this last momentous phase. Having said which, the abandonment in so many hospitals of last offices, the washing, laying out and shrouding of the dead person, betokens, does it, a regrettable perfunctoriness, a devaluation of the event?

If you’re interested to know what people think of how their dying person was looked after in hospital you’ll want to consider a satisfaction survey conducted by Barts this year. The meat starts at page 16.

What of the info booklet they give you when it’s all over and it’s time to leave? I’ve been having a look at a few. There’s a generic flavour to them, of course, but each hospital trust writes its own. Some sell adverts to undertakers to help foot the printing bill or even make a few bob. Whipp’s Cross does this. So does Croydon.

They like to begin by courteously telling you how sorry they are: “On behalf of the University Hospitals of Leicester NHS Trust (UHL) we extend our sincere sympathy to you and your family at this sad time.” This is known as the impersonal touch.

Inasmuch as the last thing most people plan, when they’re sitting with someone who’s dying, is what they’re going to do with them when they’re dead, they need these booklets. Their world is made new. It is important that the information in them is right (enough and no more) and the tone appropriate.

There are those matters over which the bereaved, at what can feel like a very disempowering time, can exercise no choice. The obligatory bureaucratic stuff – registration, in particular. And post-mortem procedures.The instructions need to be clear and accurate. Layout and vocabulary are key. The booklets I have seen do this pretty well, though not enough tell people that they can attend a post-mortem or appoint a representative.

Then there are those matters over which a bereaved person can exercise choice. The care of the body for example. The first right they should be made aware of is that their dead person belongs to them. So it is disappointing to see so many hospitals issuing this instruction: “Following the death of a relative or friend in hospital … You will need to contact a funeral director.” [Leicester] Oh no you won’t. You can lift Nan from her deathbed and take her home now, if you want. The booklet goes on: “If you have any difficulties, the National Association of Funeral Directors will be able to advise you.” As indeed it might if the NAFD represented all funeral directors.

No booklet I have seen tells you that you don’t have to have a farewell ceremony – a funeral. All suppose that funeral directors are the best people to advise about them. They’re not, of course, because the provision of a funeral is more often than not a separate, specialist service. None of these booklets serve secularists by listing secular celebrants.

But they customarily offer this comforting information: “The Hospital Chaplains are available to talk with you if required, and the Hospital Chapel is open at any hour.” [Plymouth]

The best booklet by far is by Marie Curie Cancer Care. It is clearly written, informative and above all empowering – a really fine piece of work. And then I got to the end and discovered that a significant input had been made by John Bradfield, pioneer natural burier and tenacious campaigner for consumer rights. No surprises, then. The only bone I’d pick is that it assumes that everyone wants to have a funeral. They don’t. I suspect that if more people knew they didn’t have to have one they’d say no.

Bereaved people are only well advised when they are told what their statutory obligations are and what their statutory rights are. It seems to me that the writers of these advice booklets are very much better informed about the former than the latter.

Any views?

The Importance of Being Urnest

That Brits are born with an acute and possibly pathological sensitivity to absurdity is well known. The Great American Funeral has engendered great and gloriously funny books by Jessica Mitford and Evelyn Waugh, neither of which had more than minimal success in laughing Americans out of their (perceived) absurdity.

There is method in the funerary lunacies of the GAF, of course: they come at a cost to the client. The recent rise in the cremation rate has filled most US undertakers with helpless economic terror, and it is interesting that they have taken no lessons in adapting to this from Brit undertakers, who have been making a tidy living out of burial deniers for as long as anyone can remember.

The GAF has, it seems, some capability to evolve. Burning necessity has begotten ingenious adaptation of the hearse, conserving it as the only fit and proper vehicle not only for the reverent transportation of cosmetised corpses but also the burned and reduced version, cremains. No glove compartment or passenger seat of the family car for them; only the full hush and awe will suffice. And it’s billable!

My thanks to Sarah Murray, author of Making an Exit, for bringing these hearses, more correctly termed urn enclaves, to my attention. She adds: ‘It was explained to me that urn enclaves have “adjustable bier pins” accommodating different sizes and shapes. They flip up from the floor of the hearse and are cleverly stowed again when the vehicle needs to carry a coffin. One brochure tells me that if you don’t want to buy a new hearse or go to the expense or trouble or getting yours refitted, “portable urn enclaves are also available for funeral directors who wish to extend the service of their existing coaches.”‘ Coaches, forsooth!!

Find another YouTube clip (unembeddable) here.

 

Companioning Uncle Bob

Companioning Uncle Bob

I gave myself the job, the privilege it turned out,

of enabling my Uncle Bob

to spend his last few months at home.

Death was not new to me, but dying was.

I was no nurse, just a woman thankful

to this dear old man for giving me family

when I needed it.

He let me be his companion,

but never his slave, most offers of help refused.

With a deep sense of duty

he would wash, shave and dress

his 90 year-old body if it took him three hours to complete.

When his afternoons napped in a sunny chair

he’d be cross if I didn’t keep waking him.

And any suggestion he might stay in his bathrobe,

or maybe even in bed,

was met with perplexed disbelief.

When finally one day he did stay in bed,

the day after he couldn’t believe it

and battled fatigue to return

to his normal regime.

Come five o’clock though,

he wanted to go to his bed,

but no matter how hard he tried

he could not will himself to stand up.

To my relief my strong son came visiting,

scooped him up gently

and carried him off to his bed.

And there he stayed.

Next day as we sat with our cuppas

he suddenly asked would I fight on or give up.

‘If I were in your shoes I’d give up,’ I declared,

quite sure of my answer after watching for weeks.

‘But why?’ he asked.

‘Because life is too much of a struggle,’ I said.

‘It’s true there’s not much pleasure left,’

he said slowly– ‘I enjoy my cup of tea…

How would you give up?’ he then asked.

I would just lie down and wait for death

to come and take me away,’ I replied.

‘Is it comfortable?’ he asked.

‘You mean dying?  Is dying comfortable?  Oh I have no doubt;

in fact I think it’s much better than comfortable.

I think it’s like walking into the sunshine.’

There are things one says sometimes,

with complete conviction,

which simply turn up to be said.

From then on my uncle was mostly asleep.

Next day I sat with him, drinking a cuppa,

and although I looked and looked at his body in the bed

I could not see or feel my Uncle Bob.

That afternoon he took his last good breath,

and as far as I can know,

walked off into the sunshine.

Margie McCallum

To order copies of the CD “When Death Comes Close” please contact Sarah Williams:

email: info@musedaypublications.co.uk phone: 01373 300 433

mobile: 07788 677 608

or ask your local bookshop to order it:  ISBN 978-0-9567149-0-9

 

Dead ordinary

Redditch, where I live, is a town most people would only visit by mistake. It is a 1964 new town, a dreamy planner’s dud. We have Britain’s only cloverleaf roundabout. It’s not something I’ve ever heard anyone brag about.

Yet we boast our eminent citizens. John Bonham and Charles Dance were born here; Rik Mayall grew up here; John Taylor, co-founder of Duran Duran, went to school here. And we hit the news from time to time. Our dead heat swimming pool water. Brian Haw, anti-war campaigner, hailed from here. I looked out for signs of commemoration of Brian in our town centre yesterday. Nothing.

And I thought back to a recent discussion on Gloria Mundi’s blog, sparked by Thomas Friese’s idea that all people need permanent memorials, where GM reflects: “Maybe we can find ways for public commemoration, and re-think our commemoration of more “ordinary” people,” by which I suppose GM meant B-list famous people – Phil Lynott, for example.

And that set me thinking about unlisted celebs known only to their local communities, probably not even of interest to their local paper; the sort of people we might call local heroes.

I’ve done a few funerals for people like them. All celebrants have. This is what I said about the first:  Grace’s passing serves to remind us, perhaps, that the people we miss most, when they are gone, are not the grand, flashy folk who live out their lives on the big stage and make a big splash in the media. No, the people we miss most are the extra-ordinary ordinary folk; the ones who live among us. These are the people who make all the difference to us and to our lives. Grace’s passing was not announced on the news, yet her passing has touched you much more directly that if it had been. Because Grace was a local hero. I’ve used variants of that wording many times since.

There are lots of famous people who aren’t famous in the newsworthy sense, but whose lives were nevertheless outstandingly generous. They deserve commemoration by their communities. Wouldn’t it be good, I thought, if every city, town and village had its centrally situated Monument to Local Heroes serving as a focus for people’s appreciation?

And then I thought about how such a thing would be managed. Who would be eligible and who not? How long would you give for flowers and messages before clearing them away and incising the person’s name on the monument? How would you handle anniversaries? How would you handle more than one at the same time?

Haven’t a clue. But that’s what thinking-outside-the-box-Monday is all about.

Last goodbye

Briefly, homeless man Kevin McClain falls ill with lung cancer and is taken to hospital, thence to a hospice. His dog, Yurt, is taken to a shelter and rehomed. Close to death, Mr McClain asks to see his dog one last time. Yurt is brought to him. Two days later Mr McClain died.

There’s a damp-eyed start to the week for you.

Hat-tip to the splendid Funeral Consumers Alliance for this.

Jesus Gonna Make Up My Dying Bed

Now in the time of dying
I don’t want nobody to moan
All I want my friends to do
Come and fold my dying arms

Whoa Whoa well so I can die easy
Whoa Whoa well so I can die easy
Whoa Whoa well so I can die easy
Jesus gonna make up my dying bed

Meet me Jesus, meet me
Won’t you meet me in the middle of the air
And if these wings should fail me Lord
Won’t you meet me with another pair

Whoa whoa well won’t you meet me Jesus
Whoa whoa well won’t you meet me Jesus
Whoa whoa well won’t you meet me Jesus
Jesus gonna make up my dying bed

I’m goin’ on down to the river
Stick my sword up in the sand
Gonna shout my trouble’s over Lord
I’ve done made it to the Promised Land

Whoa whoa well I’ve done crossed over
Whoa whoa well I’ve done crossed over
Whoa whoa well I’ve done crossed over
Jesus gonna make up my dying bed

Ever since I been acquainted with Jesus
We haven’t been a minute apart
He placed a receiver in my hands
True religion in my heart

Whoa whoa well I can ring up my Jesus
Whoa whoa well I can ring up my Jesus
Whoa whoa well I can ring up Jesus
Jesus gonna make up my dying bed

Goin’ on down to the river
Stick my sword up in the sand
Gonna shout my trouble’s over
I’ve done made it to the Promised Land

Whoa whoa well I’ve done crossed over
Whoa whoa well I’ve done crossed over
Whoa whoa Jesus gonna make up my dying bed

RT @GoodFunerals

Impasse between FD and DWP, so the funeral couldn’t go ahead. Who’s the villain here? http://bit.ly/jnbYCO

“When the crem curtains closed, all that remained was a pair of thongs.” – http://bit.ly/iFXvtb

“Even departed ones born during Stone Age would surely love this insanely crazy idea” : http://bit.ly/miHmG1

Levertons always have a coffin ready for a royal –http://bit.ly/mBmkei

SCI workers on strike against the vile beast which begat Dignity (and Alderwoods) in the UK. Hate those corps. http://prn.to/mkhSwR

22 priests and a funeral — a modest one. Incomparable reporting by the Irish Times of the Lenihan sendoff – http://bit.ly/mGT85g

markzbarabak Mark Z. Barabak RT by GoodFunerals

Pingpong as a cure for #Alzheimers? Seriously. lat.ms/lBbep2

Scattering ashes from a model plane – http://bit.ly/kXwewl

Paul Sinclair’s inimitable take on the NFE –http://youtu.be/SKut9r77uZ8

Corpses plundered for bodyparts. Are there no depths to depravity?http://bit.ly/mtHBxW

Do do form an orderly stampede for Sarah Murray’s new book, it’s almost certainly brilliant – http://amzn.to/jVmckM

Starbucks opens up in a funeral home. Such a good idea.http://bit.ly/ir8HUa

Death porn – http://bit.ly/miPH7Hhttp://bit.ly/miStnw Long live the Daily Mail. Pass me the news, someone.

Dead husband reincarnated as a giraffe – http://bit.ly/mkbcg6

Spellbinding photos here (for you juicers) and an interesting story –http://bit.ly/mUBH1A

Danny Alexander says we’re living longer than ever. Correction, Mr A, we’re taking longer than ever to die. Big, big difference, old sport.

suebrayne Sue Brayne RT by GoodFunerals

via @TheOnion – God Diagnosed With Bipolar Disorderonion.com/94uCri

celebratelives Richard Honeysett RT by GoodFunerals

Identified – the boy in the cast iron coffin http://tinyurl.com/5rsywo9

I have seen the future and it doesn’t work

The ability to transmute base metal into gold is a very neat trick. So neat, in fact that, as the record shows, it has never, for all the perspiration of the world’s best brains since the dawn of time, been accomplished.

The reverse is very much easier, and this is the specialism of today’s alchemists – or capitalists, as they have rebranded themselves. Turning hard-earned wages into shit is the specialism of the financial services industry. A forked-tongued charmer wheedles good money from decent folk, pours it into a financial product and hey presto! Shit!

Today’s Telegraph has this advice to investors in Dignity by stocks and shares pundit Questor. Sell.

Sell? Why? Questor cites another pundit, Franc Gregor of Charles Stanley:

“We continue to be concerned about pre-arranged funerals and whether these are truly assets in the form of future potential funerals to be performed, or liabilities in the sense that funding may not match the sums needed to perform these funerals at suitable profitability.”

Yes, Dignity’s pre-need plans are beginning to look decidedly sub-prime, a bad bet on nobbut a bubble. Bad cess to them and may they rot, etc. Doubtless, at Dignity HQ, the hushed talk is all about cost savings, the new term for shit service.

We hope this will act as a warning to all those who might be tempted, on a reckless impulse, to buy something too good to be true. We hope that Age UK, registered charity, will think again about offering this potentially shoddy product to the trusting  public.

Should my views lack balance, ye are hereby to declare it.

Telegraph piece here.

 

Age UK Funeral Plans

4 King Edwards Court

King Edwards Square

Sutton Coldfield,

West Midlands B73 6AP

Dignity Funerals Ltd,

4 King Edwards Court,

King Edward Square,

Sutton Coldfield,

West Midlands, B73 6AP

Jaw war

Dear Supporter

The Daily Mail is running a poll for a limited amount of time asking
‘Was the BBC right to screen an assisted suicide?’

If you do not think that the BBC should have screened an assisted suicide, please
VOTE ‘NO’ NOW
(Scroll down the article, about a quarter of the way down there is a small blue box,

titled ‘Today’s Poll’)

Care Not Killing has published a press release
which warns of the dangers of ‘copycat suicide’ following the screening of the BBC programme.

Thank you for contacting the BBC to express your own views about the programme.

If you have not already done so, please contact the BBC with your personal views.
You can either comment online or telephone 03700 100 222 and press 1. (After the beep, you will have only 1 minute to leave your personal opinion.)

Thank you for your continued support and action,

CNK Alliance