NIGHT DESCENDS

Lately I've paid more than usual attention to what happens in the sky. I guess the Fall provokes those kind of thoughts. In Summer the night and day are separated by beautiful sunsets and slowly unfolding twilights, but by Halloween the transition can be abrupt and violent. 

By the end of the day an otherwise sunny sky is cupped in the hands of dark clouds (above) and snuffed out. At this time of year the day no longer reliably evolves into into night; it's as often as not suffocated under a blanket.

As soon as darkness takes over the scenic beaches become traps for ships.

Suicides seek out high places.

People out for revenge seek their targets. 

Fanatics plot with their followers.

Fires are tended in military camps, prayer vigils are held in temples, the shadowy underworld is patrolled by the police. 

Eventually the night stretches out to the point where day becomes inevitable. High winds rip apart the clouds. The first delicate glow of morning appears. Here's how Emily Dickinson describes it:

IS THERE SUCH A THING AS A PEACEFUL DEATH?

WARNING: This post speculates about the nature of death, and posits that it's painful and terrifying. It's a downright creepy subject, definitely not suitable for anyone who's recently experienced the death of a loved one. Be warned!

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Okay, if you're still here, then I can promise that you'll at least acquire an interesting story to tell at campfires and Halloween parties. Here goes:

Occasionally you hear families say about a deceased relative: "He died peacefully in his sleep. We can only hope to be as lucky when our time comes." Lucky? How can they be so sure? If the evidence for a peaceful passing was simply the man's relaxed corpse, then maybe they should have withheld their judgement. Who really knows what his mental state was when he died?



What started me thinking about this was a TV documentary about lethal injection. It argued that this might be a more painful method of execution than people think. The show cited a study of brain waves from the lethally injected which indicated brain activity for several minutes after the heart stopped. In view of the pain cited by survivors of heart attack and stroke, it doesn't seem out of line to speculate that these men experienced agony as their body shut down.

You can further speculate that the prisoners were paralyzed by the opiates added to the poison and were unable to show any outward manifestation of that pain. Imagine that...severe pain without even the small comfort of being able to thrash about or scream. A very scary thought!

It occurred to me that the so-called peaceful deaths of the bed-ridden might occur the same way. Imagine a man in bed, sleeping soundly. Somehow the oxygen to his brain is cut off and he startles to wakefulness. Let me stop here to underline my belief that he wakes up. It's inconceivable that the body would react passively to a trauma like this. He'd wake up in a panic.

Maybe his lungs would still work for a time, but at a fraction of their normal capacity. If you ever choked on water that went down the wrong pipe, you know what it's like to breathe through what feels like a pinhole. Maybe our sleeper would experience this.

Maybe his heart would lose it's rhythm before it stopped beating. That's bound to be agonizing. The poor victim might try to get out of bed and flail about, but it's more likely that he'd take the avenue of least pain and stay on his back, hoping that the condition would right itself if only he could be still.

As his vessels constricted, his muscles would begin to fail and the victim would lapse into a state of painful paralysis. If he was sitting up before, he'd now fall down on the bed, maybe blind, and with his arms close to his side. His grimacing face would lose it's expressiveness and become neutral.

His mind would be active for some minutes after his body failed, a long time since minutes pass like hours when you're in pain. As the oxygen-deprived brain deteriorates, wild, crazy thoughts might race through his head. Along with the pain might come regret for past misdeeds and worry about family and friends. Maybe he'll think of some vitally important message he wants to convey, but can't. Almost certainly the final thoughts of his crumbling brain would be a scream in Hell... madhouse ravings, with no logic or pattern.

Of course in the morning his relatives will find a relaxed body, peacefully lying on a pillow, and covered with sunlight from a newly opened window.

I hope I haven't disturbed anybody with this. It certainly is macabre.

text copyright Eddie Fitzgerald 9/16/2009