What if you died in three days?

We're all going to die. The later the better, right? Knowing that it will eventually happen, or knowing that you only have three days left to live, are complete different things. For the vast majority of us, the former applies; which allows us to stay somewhat in denial, leading our everyday life as if we're immortal. Imagine for a second that you know for sure that in three days, you will die? How would you feel, and what would you do?

Introduction

Luckily, I still belong to the majority of people in this matter. I should not (if everything goes well) die in three days. But in three days, for the first time in my life, I will have to go through a surgery. It's a standard, routine ablation of tonsils under general anesthesia; absolutely nothing serious.

Still, I can't help myself thinking "what if I never wake up?"

I’d like to share some thoughts and considerations that this journey triggered in me.

D-day -3

It's Friday, I'm at work. Three days ahead still feels very distant. At that moment, two somehow related thoughts pop up in my mind:

1. Replaceability A friend told me once that if she gets run over by a truck, nothing tangible would change at the company she works for, no matter how hard and late she would work that day. Her take was that no one's irreplaceable and that being aware of it avoids being overzealous or going down with a burnout. On the other hand, it should not open the door to indifference. The idea is to do your duties, diligently, but with some humility.
   

2. Dödstädning (literally "death cleaning") A Swedish term that refers to the process of decluttering and organizing one’s belongings before death, so that loved ones aren’t burdened with the task after you pass away. At work, this means simply to share your data, documents and information, so that you make yourself replaceable, at all times, on purpose. Find out more in Margareta Magnusson's book 'The Gentle Art of Swedish Death Cleaning'.

D-Day -2 and -1

What do people do when they know they'll die in a couple days? Do they have to do something special or crazy? Is it just about having a last favorite meal like death sentenced prisoners? I spend Saturday and Sunday at home with my loved ones, doing the usual weekend stuff: laundry, cooking, cleaning, playing lego, etc. But with this tiny doubt that maybe it's my last time doing laundry, the laundry has a different taste. It's lighter, it's more enjoyable, its simplicity and usefulness are relaxing, and importantly, we do it together.

Just in case, I write some loving words in a notebook for my family, with my important passwords also indicated, to ease their dödstädning after me.

D-Day

This minute is just before anesthesia. A handsome doctor stands in the doorway; he comes over, a smile on his face, and an oxygen mask in his hand. I think to myself "This could be Heaven or this could be Hell". My head grows heavy and my sight grows dim; I hear voices down the corridor.

"Relax," said the [doctor]

"We are programmed to receive

You can check out any time you like

But you can never leave!" (The Eagles; Hotel California)

The last thing I remember is me telling the doctor he's got beautiful eyes; I forget about The Eagles, and I'm relaxed indeed. Off I go.

This minute is just past surgery; I wake up from my interesting artificial sleep. It hurts, but I take it as good news; a proof that I'm alive. The loving words are written, some dödstädning is done. It's not going to be used today, but who knows if I die in three days?

Conclusion

In those final hours before the unknown, it’s not the grand gestures that bring comfort, but the ordinary moments, the simplest things done with a lifted heart. Also, the realization that we are replaceable reminds us to share, to prepare, and to live in a way that eases the burden on those we leave behind.

The next time I may die in three days, I will do my laundry.