How to ruin a perfect death
A few months ago, the local fire department offered a free CPR training. Great, I thought, I could save a life! And I signed right up. The training lasted about an hour, during which we trainees were told that to save a person’s life, we might have to press the person’s chest hard enough to break some ribs—but not to worry, that’s O.K. And the technique can be used on anyone a year of age or older. I had thought the training would increase my confidence in navigating the world. No longer would I risk being a helpless bystander in the face of tragedy. I could save the day. But the result was weeks of nightmares. I thought of my late father-in-law Jack. He was beginning to show signs of Alzheimer’s, but otherwise he seemed in good health. On the last day of his life, he worked in his garden, played a game of singles with an old friend, had a stiff drink, then sat down to a lovely stir-fry prepared by his wife of 60-odd years. After a few bites, he fell face-down into his dinner plat