Sudden Death

I suffered some panic attacks recently, and I  now know why.

Russell Shaw (right), my friend of many years, died suddenly on Friday. He was 60.

Sudden death is a shock to loved ones at any age.

For the young it most often comes from a bullet or a car crash. A few athletes die suddenly from undiagnosed heart conditions, and these cause the most shock of all because it’s not supposed to happen that way.

As we age sudden death gets easier. It also becomes, in some ways, more
preventable. (Not entirely preventable.)

My friend Russell drank a lot,
he ate a lot, he worked obsessively and he worried a lot. He mostly
lived alone, without even a pet. All these things, we know, are
unhealthy.

His girlfriend says that in the days before he died Russell exhibited
what should have been symptoms of something. He became disoriented —
diabetes? He started coughing — flu? She’s unsure whether he brought
his blood pressure medicine with him on his last trip. And he ignored these symptoms —
his last correspondence was an e-mail to his editor, saying that he was
going to rest before proceeding to cover a trade show.

Russell’s death hit me hard because he may be more like me than anyone
I know. I worry a lot. I work obsessively, if by work you mean write.
But I’m also a hypochondriac.

More important, from a health standpoint,
is that I have a wonderful wife of 30 years, and two great kids, who
feed me joy with their problems and keep me looking forward with hope.
Partly as a result I exercise nearly every day, and I’ve cut back on my
drinking. I don’t smoke. I take my meds. I certainly would have gone to the doctor if I had
symptoms like Russell’s girlfriend describes.

Still sudden death, at any age, reminds us that no one gets out of this
world alive. No one has so far. There’s another stop on the journey. As
my friend Tommy Bass says, it’s when "the soul leaves the body."

Russell will be buried Sunday, in Ft. Lauderdale, where he grew up.
That’s Easter Sunday, I said. But Russell was Jewish, Tommy replied. He was?

Maybe I didn’t know him at all. And this is the greater tragedy. For to die as my father-in-law did,
surrounded by loved ones, mourned sincerely even in age, is one thing.
To die alone, unknown even to friends, is something else.

So the lesson I take from Russell’s passing is to become more known,
and to make more friends. Not just virtual ones, like you. But real
ones. It’s a lesson we can all benefit from.

Don’t wait for someone to
die before you learn it.