An Ode to Human Frailty
On Death and the Fear of Dying Suddenly and Unprepared
A little over three years ago, I had the closest conscious encounter with death of my entire life. Over the weekend of Palm Sunday, I began experiencing pretty intense pain in the middle of my back. I had gone on an extended six-mile run that Friday afternoon, Elizabeth and I had a very busy day on Saturday, and Sunday was Palm Sunday, so, being no stranger to running injuries, I assumed that I had managed to pull a muscle in my back. On Sunday night, I had decided I would see Elizabeth’s physician, who is both an internist and a sports medicine physician, on Monday. By Monday morning, I was feeling a bit better, so I hesitated a bit about calling. But after Elizabeth and I had some vigorous fellowship about the matter, I called and got an appointment for that afternoon.
When the physician came into the room, I described my weekend, my long run, and what I thought was the matter. She had me take some stretch positions to see if it made the pain any worse or any better. It didn’t. She wasn’t convinced I had a muscular problem, so she ordered a blood test and took an x-ray to be sure there was nothing unusual going on. When she got the results of the blood test, she came back into the exam room and said, “You have to go to the hospital right now.” The blood test was non-specific, but it indicated that I likely had a blood clot. My physician said, “I think you probably have a small clot in your lung and that’s causing the pain, but you need to have a scan to be sure, and you need to start blood thinners immediately.”
After picking up my chin off the floor, I called Elizabeth, had the physician explain to her what she explained to me, and I met Elizabeth at the hospital entrance. Once the scan was complete, about five minutes after I got back to the waiting room (where a blessed saint of God from the church I was serving at the time was waiting patiently with Elizabeth), the nurse came out and said, “Mr. Jolly, the radiologist has read your scan and he has already admitted you to the emergency room and instructed me to walk you down there myself immediately.”
When we got to the ER, they hooked me up to every kind of monitoring machine you can imagine, started me on oxygen, and the attending came in and said, “Mr. Jolly, I’ve got good news and bad news. The bad news is that you have multiple, massive pulmonary emboli in your lungs. The good news is, we’ve caught this, we can easily treat it, and I expect you’ll make a full recovery. Can I ask what prompted you to go to the doctor in the first place?” I pointed at Elizabeth. He said, “Good for her. If you hadn’t gone when you did, you likely would have been in much more danger, and one in five people who have emboli that go untreated do not survive.” Moral of the story: Listen to your spouse!
I ended up spending one night in the hospital for observation to ensure that the clots weren’t going to affect my oxygen levels or my heart, and so I could start on a super dose of blood thinner. I called the Bishop and said, “Uh, Bishop, you’re going to need to find someone to take Holy Week for me. I’m in the hospital.” Initially, he thought I was pulling his leg (we have that kind of relationship), but when I handed the phone to Elizabeth and she said, “Bishop, this is Elizabeth. He’s not kidding,” he said, “Oh &%$#! Okay, don’t worry about anything. Text me your senior warden’s cell phone number and I’ll take care of it.” He did, I was discharged on orders to rest for three days, then was well enough to preside on Easter.
Fast-forward three years, I’ve seen some of the world’s leading experts on clotting disorders, and I apparently won the genetic lottery of having an unspecified condition that causes my body to make blood clots. I’ll likely be on a low-dose blood thinner for the rest of my life, and I see hematology and pulmonology experts at Emory once per year for a check-up. There are a few things I have to be more cautious about than most folks do, but other than that, I’m healthy and doing fine. My pulmonologist told me that I have the heart and lungs of a collegiate swimmer!
The truth is that I have never been afraid of dying. I’m afraid of losing those whom I love, and I’m hopeful that my brain and my heart give out at the exact same time, but I never remember a time where I actually was afraid of death. Let the reader understand: I don’t make that statement either from a place of arrogance, or from a place of fatalism. I remember sitting down with Elizabeth before I went to Israel in 2023 (a few months prior to the October 7 attack, mind you) and saying, “I know you don’t want to talk about this, but if I die, here’s what you do…” and listed off who to call first, where to get account information, where my funeral plan was, et cetera.
I think part of the reason I’m not afraid of dying is that at this point in my career, I’ve attended, assisted, preached, or presided at hundreds of funerals. I’ve seen dead bodies, decaying bodies, dying bodies, and autopsied bodies of all ages, shapes, and sizes. I’ve been the person to go to the morgue to positively identify a body. I’ve been around death a lot. But the biggest reason that I don’t fear death is that I really, truly, deep down in my bones believe that what Christians have been saying about death and resurrection for two thousand years is true. Life is changed, not ended, and we ultimately belong to and with God.
Shortly after my stay in the hospital, Elizabeth and I sat down together and completed our advance directives and medical power of attorney documents. I’ve helped many families complete those documents over the years, and have even signed them as a witness on numerous occasions, but sitting on the other side of that conversation—imagining what my wishes are when I die—was a humbling experience. It was also an important opportunity to grow in our marriage; to talk frankly and honestly about what our wishes are with each other because odds are, I’m going to be making decisions for her at the end, or she’s going to be making decisions for me at the end.
Earlier this year, we also finished the (longer and more involved) process of creating an estate trust. Once again, we found ourselves on the other side of the table in this conversation, discussing our wishes for the disposition of our assets, consulting with loved ones, and establishing who will serve as the trustee once both of us are dead. Along the way, several folks made the comment, “Gosh, you guys are on top of it!” Sadly, because I have been proximate to many deaths, I’ve also been proximate in the aftermath of someone who, as the prayer book describes, “Dies suddenly and unprepared.” Dying intestate—that is, without a will—places an enormous burden on one’s surviving family. The probate process is long and complex, and without at least a Last Will and Testament to help structure that process, chaos often ensues.
Our most recent success at adulting was purchasing our burial plot underneath the magnolia tree in the Saint Thaddeus Graveyard. When I’m standing in the pulpit, I can look out the window to my right and see my final resting place—a visible reminder that the church was there before me, and it will be there (God willing) long after me!
Why do I share all of this? For three reasons, really. The first is to highlight the fact that, like the process of being born, death is universal. It’s not an if, but a when. Putting plans in place now is an exercise in care and concern for your loved ones. There is great satisfaction in walking out of the church after a funeral and the surviving family members of the deceased all breathing easily, not questioning and hoping that the service was what Mother would have wanted, but knowing that it is what she wanted because she took the time to tell us and help us plan for it.
The second reason I share all of this is more practical: depending on the state you live in (and trust me, a lot depends on state law), an unexpected death is shocking and tragic enough on its own. Sitting with loved ones in the wake of “I just saw him yesterday and now he’s gone” is somewhere between heart-wrenching and a sucker punch to the gut. What is as bad, if not worse, is the one to two years of probate that can follow an unexpected death when one’s affairs are not in order. I’ve watched as a loving partner who lived in the house for decades is given sixty days to find somewhere else to live, without being given a penny because they “Never got around to it.” Marriage is also not an automatic protection against this! Take the time to find a professional in your area and start asking questions so you can make a plan!
The third reason I share all of this is the most important: Professionally, it is an opportunity to practice what I preach. I know it because I’ve done it. But personally, it’s a relief to know that when the bell tolls for me, those people and places I love most in the world will be cared for, honored, and remembered.
Christian theology turns on the idea that we are a family, and families care for one another. One of the most beautiful moments in the liturgy of the funeral is actually when the priest meets the coffin and conducts the liturgy for the reception of the body. I’ve always thought of that as the moment when the decedent’s family of faith gently says to the funeral home, “Thank you, we’ll take it from here,” as we take those who mourn by the hand, and walk with our beloved, singing, praying, laughing, reminiscing, and crying, but most of all, in that sure and certain hope of what is to come. We literally act out that sure and certain hope: as we give thanks to God for our beloved, God takes them by the hand and says to us, “Thank you, I’ll take it from here,” as God leads them home.
Excellent. At this stage of my life death is not feared. Yet, I enjoy another day with spouse, friends, and parish work.
Thanks for sharing and I would have never thought that you would have had a health scare. While Charlie and I have our wills, this is a good reminder that we should take the time to check it to see if any updates are needed. What I haven't done is to identify my preferences for my memorial service. I will add this to my "To Do" List and just hope that I get around to it before it is too late!