On the Beach - A Movie About Choices at the End of Life

On the Beach is a beautiful movie about making decisions at the end of life. I saw it first as a child and it affected me profoundly, probably giving me my start on knowing that we must all have the right to make the decision – when the time comes – how, where and with whom we die.

If you haven’t seen the film in decades, you’ll be surprised at its modern look and feel. If you’ve never seen it, find it to see how the 1950's world sought to deal with the “end of the world” as wrought upon us by what is simply referred to in the film as “the war.”

The war has caused a nuclear holocaust and every living thing is going to die. When we join the characters (and, okay, some of them are pretty standard issue: the hysterical young woman, the older woman with a past and a heart of gold, the silent but deep Naval Captain!), everyone except those who live in Australia are already dead, save a group of intrepid American sailors who were underwater and managed to survive the radiation poisoning. Until now.

In Australia, the government has issued everyone a small handful of pills to take when the end is near. The people line up to receive their magic medicine so they won’t have to suffer too much. Husbands and wives have to decide when to take the pills; when to administer them to their children. Strong men have to face the fact that they can’t conquer this massive loss of life caused by their own macho, nationalist folly. A death of their own doing.

It slips into melodrama from time to time, but the cast is so beautiful (most of them dead now: Ava Gardner, Gregory Peck, Anthony Perkins, Fred Astaire) that we can forgive them for histrionics as they face extinction that we’ve not had to face on a global scale.

It’s the small stories that inspire. A young sailor jumps ship to spend his last few days fishing from his favorite pier near his home in a totally deserted San Francisco, telling his captain that there are “more than 200 drug stores” in town so he’s pretty sure he can find the right drugs when the time comes. His decision is solid. He knows what he wants.

The young married couple is able, finally, to face their greatest fears. He chooses not to go back on the submarine, which is making a final trip back to America, just so that he can hold his wife in his arms as the medicine works, just after their baby has slept her final sleep.

The captain of the submarine chooses to leave his new love to be among his men when the time comes. Ava Gardner plays the love interest and she is, finally, strong enough to let him go, made better by knowing him and better by knowing how she will die, among her friends, at home.

Though the movie was an allegory for what might happen due to the Cold War, it resonates with inspiration as the characters choose how their lives will end. (Not all choose the drugs, by the way, a fiery car crash is how one character wants to go.)

This movie will generate lots of discussion if watched in a group. No doubt there are those who still believe that mankind should suffer to the last moment, but those of us who voluntarily work with individuals who are dying have overcome that way of thinking for the most part.

And you’ll never, ever hear Waltzing Matilda in the same way again.

The Will to Live...Not my Natural State

When I Lose the Will to Live

I don’t have any gray area…despite an amazing recovery from a life-long depression, I still go straight from “everything is fine” to “I want to die.” Though I keep a long list of "Reasons to Live" right beside my desk...my tendency is to lose that will, sometimes suddenly. Fortunately I can usually remedy it these days with...a nap.

This feeling could be brought on by something catastrophic such as the loss of a close friend or I say, only half-jokingly something as simple as a bad hair day…or a hangnail. My awareness that it passes quickly helps me cope these days. For much of my life it was a challenge to survive such times, as I would totally lose the will to live in a flash.

Fortunately the Universe saw fit to ignore my many pleas for death as I waded through a lifetime of depression; either low-grade chronic or acute episodes, it didn’t matter. My connectedness to this life is tenuous on the surface and only slightly less flimsy on the metaphysical level. 

Today, with depression in the rear view mirror, I can joke about it. But for 40 years of my lifetime, it was the set of circumstances that ruled me. Even now, in the best of times, I’m ready and willing to die when my time comes. Some might say eager. To me, after intensive physical and metaphysical study, it’s just going home...and sometimes we all get homesick.

While that serves me in my work with those who are actively dying – my lack of fear seems to buoy them up to face their fears – it has been a struggle in other areas of life. For example the sudden draining away of life energy for seemingly minor problems. A curse…and a gift.

Talking to a lovely friend who is, in fact, facing end of life issues and illustrating this analogy as regards going into hospice, I said that hospice is there for you when you lose the will to live. "Hospice", I said, "is the best way to stay alive when you're dying." 

People who go into hospice early in the process feel better and even flourish as they continue their path to end of life. Many who were overwhelmed by the simplest tasks find renewed energy when hospice is present. 

Hospice, as I said to my friend, will “clip your potentially fatal hangnail” before you even notice it.

When my time comes, I’m calling hospice the first moment. I know that they can help with pain management and emotional stability as well as the myriad of things we need to decide upon when there is, in fact, time at the end of life. Though we all want to “die in our sleep” after a long and healthy life, I may be a little disappointed if I drop dead suddenly and miss the chance to be in hospice. I want to be pampered to death by that amazing program. The level of care, of pure humanity in those organizations is as close as we come to getting health care right.