Why can’t death be fun? There is nothing silly about the answer, according to ‘Patch’ Adams.

(This is the second excerpt from the author’s best-selling book Gesundheit. He is the subject of the hit movie Patch Adams, starring Robin Williams. Known around the world for more than four decades, the real Patch has been promoting his philosophy that the best healthcare needs laughter, joy and creativity. He is founder of The Gesundheit Institute, which aims to bring that philosophy to life. – Jay Niver, editor)

Consider the parallels between birth and death. For most of the 20^th century, birth in this country was a painful experience, with the mother sedated and the father and family kept at a distance.

When I was in medical school, the obstetrics rotation was in a city hospital with thousands of births a year. Women screamed in pain for hours, tormented by the hospital routine and needing sedation. Doctors behaved as if they brought babies into the world, whereas in truth, women are the ones who give birth!

Very early in my practice, I attended home births and had a completely different experience. Here was a celebration of the highest order that bonded the entire family, with the midwife or doctor simply serving as a guide.

If birthing classes can make birth a glorious experience, why not have deathing classes to prepare us for death? Often, making a life experience familiar has eased anxiety about it. That is why I advocate “fun death.”

I have asked thousands of people how they feel about their death, and I hear these recurrent themes: “I don’t want it to be painful” and “I want it to happen in my sleep.” I believe that with conscious effort and advance planning, dying can be an anticipated and beautiful event shared with one’s family and friends – a final celebration of being together.

So I ask patients to imagine what kind of death they would want. “What would be your ideal?” I ask. “Do you want a miserable, anxious death, alone in a hospital, with everyone acting as if you’re already dead? Or would a fun death be more to your liking?” By “fun,” I mean whatever that individual considers ideal, within the limits of feasibility.

At our proposed hospital, and in the homes of patients who wish it, we will involve terminally ill patients in planning their deaths. We will encourage dialogue with their families so the patient’s wishes are clear to all. In suggesting a fun death, I hope that patients and their friends will use their creativity to design a death experience that is not only comfortable, but also downright anticipated. Because we will have a willing staff and many props, I’d like to think that whatever is desired will be acceptable, as long as patients have made their wishes clear to their families beforehand.

Some might prefer a quiet death at home with family and clergy gathered in prayer, welcoming the coming of eternity. Some might prefer three women in black, crouched in a corner moaning. Others might ask their friends to dress as angels, playing harps and singing of coming attractions. A wild dance party might suit some. For myself, since I’m a silly person, I would like a silly death. The key is personal choice.

In no way am I trying to belittle or ignore the tragic loss of the deceased to the family and the world. We all must experience that loss and grieve in our own style.

This exercise is intended for the dying person, not particularly for those still living. That is why it is so important for patients to communicate with their families. Most patients I’ve spoken with want only to be home with their loved ones and in familiar surroundings, perhaps with some music, massages, prayers, and memories added.

Contemporary society is experiencing a major breakdown of family structure. It’s time to glue it back together again. The intimacy of planning and creating an intimate death experience would form that kind of cement.

Let’s stop fearing death and transform it into an experience that could bring us closer together as a family. Let’s have a fun death.