How did I learn to understand that there can never ever be any acceptable alternative to immortality and living indefinitely forever young? Is there any better way to learn and permanently remember the understanding that any possibly...
moreHow did I learn to understand that there can never ever be any acceptable alternative to immortality and living indefinitely forever young?
Is there any better way to learn and permanently remember the understanding that any possibly imaginable alternative to reverse all adverse effects of aging and happily live indefinitely forever young, healthy and energetic would have the same long-term negative consequences as intentionally committing suicide than I have described in this authentic experience report?
When I was only 6 years old, I went through an emotional trauma, from which I am still suffering today and that has led me to come here and be the only one working in the EIT building during Christmas break. On October 2nd, 1980, only one day before my daddy’s birthday, my aunt Frieda, who I liked a lot because she paid lots of attention to my long stories and actually took them serious, suffered from a sudden heart attack. My daddy succeeded to bring her back to life with CPR and my mom called the emergency doctor in the mean time. The doctor was a quiet man from Romania. He had short back hear and looked like being around 30 years old. His voice was very quiet and emotionally detached when he asked my grandma about the age of my aunt. My grandma replied: "She is 83 years old." And then something happened, which I never expected, i.e. the doctor went on in his empathy-lacking quiet voice to say the few German words, which I still remember as if my aunt had died yesterday. He said “Ich denke, wir hoeren auf.” In English this means, “I think, we are going to quit.” He meant going to quit any efforts and even medical interventions at our disposal to bring my aunt Frieda back to live and to make sure she’ll stay alive. When the doctor said this, it was spooky quiet, as if a ghost would kill my aunt. I felt like screaming into the face of the doctor, YOU MUST DO YOUR JOB AS EMERGENCY DOCTOR, TO DO EVERYTHING IN YOUR POWER TO MINIMIZE MY AUNT’S RISK TO DIE FROM THIS PARTIAL HEART ATTACK REGARDLESS OF HER AGE!!!! But I was only six. I was scared and confused. It was my first real encounter with death. I helplessly looked at my parents and looked at my grandma. I wanted them to demand from the doctor not to use my aunt Frieda’s advanced age against her. Although I was only six years old I strongly felt that no medical provider has the moral right and should be punished harshly when using his patient’s age as a shallow absolutely unjustified excuse for refusing to save their lives. But it was so quiet this time, which I recall must have been around 7.30 p.m. on October the 2nd, 1980, when my aunt laid diagonally across the carpet on the floor of the children’s room. Neither my mom nor my daddy nor my grandma nor my 2 younger siblings opened their mouth.
Although I was furious beyond anyone’s imagination, the fact that my otherwise very confident parents and even my grandma, who was best friends with my dying aunt, i.e. all three adults in the room, who’d I expect to fight for my life if I ever needed urgent medical care, and who’d otherwise readily expressed their opposition to anything they did not agree with or considered unfair, did not even attempt to pressure the doctor on a mental, emotional emphatic, moral, medical or legal level, to take his job seriously regardless how he personally felt about my aunt’s advanced age. When something totally unexpected like this happens, i.e. in case of such kind of second degree murder due to medical neglect and intentionally withholding readily available medical interventions without any apparent rational reason for not even trying to save my aunts life, when we still had a chance, I became speechless. I felt like screaming to my parents to not allow the doctor to let my aunt die, after my daddy had brought her back to life already. My daddy is very good in CPR. He’ll fight for everyone’s life as if it was his own. My daddy waited for the doctor’s instructions on how to proceed after restoring my aunts consciousness to the point where she had her eyes opened and could hear every single word, which was spoken by anyone in the children’s room. When all this happened I stood about 4 feet away from my aunt. I was afraid to move any closer because I was worried of accidentally bump into something I could not see but which would kill here. Now something happened that I can never forget. My daddy got up from the carpet and stopped CPR! I felt like screaming “NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!” “WHYYYYYYYYYY???” “DON’T!!!!!!” “KEEP BREATHING MORE AIR IN HER MOUTH!!!!! Don’t listen to this evil doctor. He has no respect for life! He does not deserve to be an emergency doctor!!! What if she were his aunt???? She is conscious and will most likely fully come back to life if you’ll just give her enough time to get over this medical crisis!!!! Actually, she was already over the hump because apparently her heart was beeping already independently and all my daddy was still doing, was breathing air in my aunt’s mouth. I wanted my mom to call another doctor. I wanted him to be a German doctor, who treats our aunt as if she was his aunt. I felt that this Rumanian doctor had no empathy for Germans because when my entire family looked up to him for help, he indirectly killed by neglect.
Even if is negative medical intuition should turn out to be true and all of our medical interventions were doomed to fail this evening, I felt he should at least try anyways or else there would have been no point in the doctor making the trip to our home. Then he could have stayed in his killer-hospital. At least that way he would not have had the opportunity to encourage my daddy from reviving my aunt with CPR. When I was six, my daddy was still very powerful. He would have kept performing CPR for hours to save my aunt’s life, if this disguised killer-doctor, would not have instructed him to stop and let her die, just because he felt no old people deserve resources intensive medical care, unless they are his own relatives. Would he let his aunt or grandmother dies like that if he had good chances to prevent or at least postpone death? This I felt would have certainly give my aunt enough time to get over the fear, which is an inherent feature of anyone surviving a heart attack, especially when the doctor is instructing my daddy to stop keeping her alive. I felt like being in a madhouse. I could not speak. My otherwise very attentive parents and grandmother did not seem to be aware that I felt so much emotional pain with such a mental intensity that I almost felt as if I was the one dying instead of my aunt. This god dam Rumanian doctor! Why did he have to be on duty when my aunt needed dedicated professional medical help to get over her heart attack? Why did the hospital not send a German doctor with a strong voice, who’d be much more assertive in his speech and actions to instruct my parents to do everything in their power to save my aunt’s life? Why did my aunt deserve such an indecisive foreign doctor, who lacks the kind of strong loud confidence inducing voice, patients and their relatives need in their struggle of succeeding in overcoming any medical crisis? Why did this stupid hospital send us this absolutely useless and even counterproductive foreign physician, who refused to even say a single word when my parents and grandma looked up to him and expected rational life-saving medical advice? What was he thinking when he condemned my aunt with the only very ambiguous sentence, I still remember verbatim from this cursed Rumanian doctor, “I think we are going to quit.”? Was he asking my parents, whether they’d approve his proposal to quit saving my aunt’s life? Did he order my daddy to quit CPR and let my aunt die? This doctor showed lack of leadership when everyone is expecting him to take charge of the medical crisis at hand and to maximize the odds for the best possible medical outcome.
I remember not being able to feel anything that evening. My aunt laid dead diagonally across the carpet in the children’s room when I started to understand that everyone expects me to go to sleep as usual. I hid under my blanket and wanted to die. I cried so hard. What if I had a heart attack? Would my parents and grandma follow the medical advice of the doctor, if he told them that he thinks, we should quit saving my life? Luckily, I only was 6 and no doctor would even dream about using my age as an excuse for letting me die. But, what about 80 years from now? From then onward, I wanted to become strong, innovative, energetic and knowledge to defeat death before it would inevitably kill me only about 80 years later. That is why I came to America.
