Saturday, April 7, 2012

On Death.

My friend's friend passed away at the shooting in Oakland this past week. Completely by coincidence, the gunshot was never intended for her. She was there at wrong time, wrong place. He was an evil person. The shooter, and I don't usually like to judge another person as "evil" per se but there was no good intention that came from his actions. No reason, none at all. How is that another person is able to choose when another person is to live or not? How do you kill someone point blank? How do you pull a trigger, hear the sound of that gunshot - and be okay, even functional afterwards? Knowing that you had injured another's life. How? What led you to the point of murder? It doesn't makes sense.

Does this man not know the the grief, the ramifications of his actions? Does anyone, when holding a gun knows the responsibility and power that comes with it? People are mourning because of you. Parents are childless, families are planning funerals, friends are grieving - all of which are trying to find something tangible to keep that memory of that person close. That person they loved. They can't see or smell or talk to the person they love, because of you. Fucker. You stole that from them. You are not entitled to make such a selfish choice. And yet, you did.  

I know this isn't the first time someone came on a campus or public grounds and just started shooting. But isn't that thought depressing? That in our crazy universe, public shootings have become a norm. Ridiculous. This passed week, there were also shootings in Brazil and France. This passed week. Call it whatever it is, me being naive. Not understanding that certain people just die - but here's the thing. I get that I swear I do. I have experienced unfortunately too many deaths at a very young, young age. But there was no justice, no honor  - only pain and hatred when those lives were lost this week. 

My grandfather died from a syringe. Do you remember the Angel of Death* - the nurse who would inject lethal poison to euthanize terminal patients? He killed many, many people. And the stuff he would inject these patients with had a certain half-life that was difficult to trace, meaning only within in a specific time period can it be found in the bodies. My grandfather was of these few people. They exhumed his body, performed who knows what on him, and found proof. Yes, he was gravely ill. And yes, I wonder if my grandfather requested it. But still.. Still

A life is entered in this world not by choice. And yes, we can argue that there is family planning and conscious (or not so conscious) acts of making babies. We ya'll know that after we 'do the deed' typically a baby, a life is produced. We can decide that, totally. But that moment of conception is not necessarily our choice. And so, death should be the same. No? Is it because with death, there is often pain. So, we should have the ability to choose when this is to happen? I'm layering two very separate causes of death. But is it one in the same? 

So, with that all said, now you see why I want to practice medicine. I want that same "power" that the man who had that gun had. With the obvious exception. I want to rebuttal against his evil acts with medical know-how. I want to be a master of the body, to be a genius in healing another. I want to preserve a life that would be defied the opportunity of a natural death. I want to fight against death caused by the hands of another. I want to preserve, sustain, enhance a life. I want others not to grieve but to enjoy the people they love, that much longer. I want to be the hands that allows people to be with their loves ones, that much longer. I'll do whatever I can, to do just that. 

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