By Sidrah Gufran
A wise old man I happen to know once said death itself is a relief. If there was no death than their will be no end to suffering, illness, and old age.
This little thought provoking sentence took me down the memory lane where I battled with my self and indulged in some self reflection. Death I realized as the human race has feared for long is simply a journey to be born again. The time before death that many spend in sickness, hospital rooms and battle fields is what is painful. Lives hanging on to the mercy of tubes, wires and other big huge rumbling machines waiting to meet their dear fate are in pain. Waiting, longing, praying for a miracle I realized is painful.
A visit to a remote village in the interior Sindh, Pakistan brought some mind boggling realities to the fore front. Theirs was a life unimmaginable by many. Still a largely pastoral society, with medical facilties scarce if any, a lady teacher told me since expenses of going to the hospital in the city are unaffordable by many we simply bury a man who’s gone in coma. Cruel? Maybe.
I asked a doctor once what happened when there were no ventilators. “People died.” he replied.
So what is more merciful I still ponder prolonging death with each little artificial jout of breath or letting the body take its natural course and end the pain once and for all.