Return from the dead: read a fictional short story about a true-life medical condition
ANOTHER
LAZARUS
Belinda Janz
DEAR Aunty Jo,
This last fortnight has been such an
emotional rollercoaster ride that I have decided to write this letter as we can
hardly believe it. Really, it’s too much to relay to the Captain of your ship.
As you know now, Mum passed away Monday
two weeks ago while visiting her doctor.
At 68-years-old Mum was still well enough
to live here at home. She moved into rooms downstairs without any fuss after
Dad passed away last year saying she wanted her space and it was her time now;
after all, if I wanted her, she was only a walk down the stairs away. Nothing
had changed with her daily routines or her pace except her new blood pressure
medicines. The specialists assured us this was not the cause of Mum’s sudden
death but merely that her heart had given out with age.
We tried to contact you almost straight
away even though we knew you were away on the last part of your
around-the-world cruise. It wasn’t till Wednesday morning that we were able to
speak to the Captain and have the message passed on. At that point the family
had decided to have the funeral last Friday knowing that you most likely would
not be able to make it.
Allison said she would go in to dress Mum
for the burial Wednesday afternoon and there was to be a private viewing after
this. I wasn’t sure about the choice of coffin. Both Allison and Tom insisted
we should look at environmentally friendly choices in cardboard.
I initially laughed out loud at the very
thought that was conjured up in my mind. When Tom produced a booklet on some
styles and designs, I have to say, I was surprised at how they looked just like
regular wooden coffins in the photos. I wasn’t into the weird designs but we
laughed at the thought of Mum being buried in a present style box that looked
like an oversized box of chocolates complete with painted bow design on top.
Allison told me that Barbara Cartland had been buried in a cardboard coffin and
I had said jokingly, ‘What? Was it made out of her books? She hardly wrote
anything that I know that wasn’t worth burying!’
Anyway I gave into my older brother and
sister’s choice. After all, it was lined inside with a blue padding and looked
presentable enough. I figured Mum wasn’t ever fussy about spending unnecessary
money on things.
So Wednesday, after a long day at work, I
drove to the funeral home and met up with the rest of the family for the
viewing. Uncle Ted and Aunty Jean, on Dad’s side, were also there as they had
remained close to Mum after Dad had died. I don’t know how well you know Uncle
Ted, but it was no surprise to us kids when, after the viewing, Uncle Ted
suddenly produced an Esky from somewhere and announced, ‘Time for a drink! In
honour of your mother and a good woman let’s all have a drink to celebrate her
good life.’
As he was saying this, he produced shot
glasses out of his pockets. He handed us a glass each and then pulled from the
Esky several cocktail shakers sitting in ice. With a shake and flick he poured
us each a dark amber coloured drink.
‘Ted what on earth is this?’ asked Aunty
Jean, as she cautiously sniffed the glass.
‘It’s called a Closed Casket and how
appropriate I thought for today. You know how Ann liked a nip of rum every now
and then and I think now is an ‘every now and then’ type moment. She would see
the funny side to it – you know Closed Casket – get it?’ Uncle Ted poured
himself a second oblivious to us all standing there hesitantly holding the cold
drink and wondering if here and now was the time for such frivolity. We did
drink it though and I was surprised how nice it tasted but then felt guilty
with feeling pleasure at such a time. Uncle Ted had begun pouring us all
another drink when suddenly the lid of the casket flew off landing with a dull
thud to the floor.
Startled, we all turned to see Mum
struggling to try and sit up. I bet I wasn’t the only one who wondered what we
had just drunk. Aunty Jean screamed so loud the funeral home attendant came in
and was just as bewildered as we were to what was going on. By this time Aunty Jean
had slumped to the floor dropping her glass which snapped us out of what seemed
like a slow moving dream. We didn’t know where to go first – to Aunty Jean or
to Mum but it seems we all hung back in shock more than anything until Mum
snapped at us to get her out of this box. She proceeded to continue to yell
even as the funeral home attendant assisted her into a chair before saying he
was going to call for a doctor.
It was later explained to us by the
doctor on Wednesday night at the hospital, that Mum appeared to have
experienced what is known as Lazarus Syndrome – something bought on by the
attempted resuscitation after she had passed away at the doctor’s surgery.
Lazarus Syndrome is a rare condition where the heart rate and breathing drop
below measurable levels before returning to normal. It is understood that a
spontaneous return of circulation happens after attempts to resuscitate fail
with times varying with each case.
In all the kerfuffle we didn’t even think
to try and contact you to tell you what had happened.
The doctor said he was going to keep Mum
in overnight much to her disgust. It seems she was also expressing disgust with
the choice of casket or was it just that ‘we had tried to bury her alive’ as
that also seemed to be a part of her angry words whenever we tried to speak to
her.
Mum was only home a little over a day
when, in the early hours of Friday morning, I awoke to her yelling from below.
I went downstairs to find her doubled over on the floor and appearing to be
unconscious. She was clutching at her chest with one hand and I wondered if she
had had a heart attack and ran back upstairs to ring for the ambulance. I then
rang Allison and Tom and they all seemed to arrive at the same time. I’d left
the front door open so that I could stay with Mum and had her head resting on a
pillow and a blanket over her as they all filed in downstairs one after the
other.
The ambulance officers told us they were
sorry to say that Mum had passed away and they offered to contact the doctor
for confirmation and the necessary procedures that needed to be followed up on.
Allison looked at me, then at Tom, and we
all looked back at Mum lying in a peaceful form on the floor now.
‘Are you sure? I asked, explaining what
had just happened over the week.
‘Yes without a pulse after all this time
we are sure, sir. The doctor will confirm it all with you.’
So off Mum went back to the same funeral
home but this time we chose a wooden casket and lined it with pink so that it
didn’t resemble the last one in any way. Then around the time when her first
funeral had been set for on the Friday morning, Mum again awakens from this
phenomenon which I can’t say I have heard of till now. Can you believe it,
Aunty Jo? I was beginning to think Mum had more than one life like a cat! Again
she shocked the staff at the funeral home by walking out telling them that they
were all in the plot to get rid of her.
I got the call from the home and found
Mum walking along the side of the road. In the car I tried to explain to Mum
what the doctor had tried to tell us but Mum would have no part of it. She said
she was only getting a lift with me so she could go home and ring the police
and report us all for what she thought was a plot to bury her alive. Mum seemed
to have become quite confused and suddenly very old with all the dying and
rising up again that had been going on.
Mum stopped eating over the weekend and
spent most of the time in bed either asleep or staring at the ceiling. I was
really worried that she seemed to have lost it and wasn’t sure if she knew what
was going on. She hadn’t talked to any of us since we had got home Friday
afternoon. Uncle Ted tried to offer her a nip of rum telling it would be all
right but she just lay on the bed staring at the ceiling and didn’t respond to
his attempts at humour like she used too. In fact, if her eyes weren’t open, I
would almost say she had passed away again.
And then she did. Aunty Jean while
sponging her down noticed that she had no pulse and called the ambulance and
then the doctor. This time the doctor had Mum put into a private room in the
hospital while we waited for what we thought would just be a repeat of the last
times. We took it in turns to stay with Mum but after the third day the doctor
declared Mum had indeed passed on this time and wrote up a Final Decease
certificate there and then. The funeral home had already been put on notice but
this time, given how things had ended up, it somehow was decided that Mum
should be cremated immediately putting an end to it. I’m not sure what was
being put an end to and didn’t want Mum being burnt alive and said as much. The
doctor assured us that there had never been a case yet where a person had come
back to life after being dead three days.
So it is with much sadness I write to
tell you about Mum’s passing again but relief I guess that she is finally at
rest. I know you will receive this letter when you get home – hardly a
welcoming home letter but we just wanted you to know how difficult it has been
this last fortnight. Can you believe it – this has happened to about 38 people
around the world over the last thirty years? None of us had heard about the
others but the doctor assures us it is a recognised medical syndrome and not
some witchery or trickery or dare I say ‘spirit’ thing. I don’t believe in
ghosts even though I know Mum did and always said she would come back to haunt
me to see if I was looking after myself.
Well Aunty Jo, I hope you had a lovely
cruise and I still plan to fly down and see you at Christmas if that’s alright.
But for now I’ll end off here as I’d best go and check out the house again;
I keep getting the smell of smoke or
something burning when I sit around too long, so take care,
Love from Anthony.
FROM
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