Matt Morgan: A living funeral with my friends

Abstract

It was a familiar scene in the lead-up to Christmas: husbands looking lost in highly perfumed, dazzlingly lit shops. An expensive lipstick or cashmere scarf, seldom actually wanted, was bought as a surrogate object to represent “I love you.” Parents strained to understand the latest craze in overpriced plastic toys that promised more quality time with their children, away from digital distractions, but which often led to less. I too stood in those shops and bought those scarves and toys for my wife and children. But I’d already bought the perfect present for my friends—a gift that no one wants. For Christmas last year I bought my friends a funeral. This may seem a strange gift, and in many ways it is. Over the past 20 years, while caring for patients who are in the thick fog between life and death, I’ve met hundreds of people who have died, were resuscitated, and lived. I’ve long thought that these are the people we should be …