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August 01, 2007
The Case of the Undead Uncle
File this under odd things I never thought would happen in my family.
Last week, before ravening hordes of family and friends descended on us as a prelude to seeing Interment, I had a conversation with my dad on the phone. He called to find out where he and Mom were staying (we'd booked a hotel room), but also to tell me that my uncle, his only remaining brother, was in the hospital.
I don't recall all of the details surrounding Uncle Butch's situation (no, that's not his real name, though it's the name I've known him by since I was old enough to talk), it has to do with a horrible lung-based reaction to improperly prescribed meds. I do recall that he was in a coma, and that his whole family lives in the area (I mean his kids & their families), so they were spending time with him.
On Friday evening, during intermission, Dad checked his voicemail. There was a message from his sister, telling him that Uncle Butch had just died. Dad told me right after they got back to our house after the show. Shortly after that, he checked his phone and discovered he had another voicemail. Also from my aunt.
Five minutes later, a bemused and rather shaken Dad wandered into the living room and said, "He's not dead."
Apparently, my uncle had a serious relapse (he'd been doing better) and was pronounced dead. By a doctor. As in no vital signs and unable to revive him. Dead.
Everyone left the room, doctors, nurses, family, everyone, and then the doctor sent a nurse in to "clean him up" before the family went back in to spend some time with him. She found my conscious uncle frantically waving his arms to get her attention. (They'd turned his ventilator off, because a dead person doesn't need one.) As of Saturday morning, he was answering questions with accuracy; he knew who everybody was. In other words, he had good cognitive responses and was astonishingly healthy for someone who was dead, officially dead, 12 hours earlier.
My brother and I horrified almost everyone by almost immediately commenting on our undead uncle. Though actually, the first thing I said after Dad said, "He's not dead," (once I'd recovered the ability to speak) was, "Good!" Which pretty much covers all the bases, I think.
The next morning, my parents talked things over with each other and with my cousin, his oldest daughter. All agreed that Mom & Dad should go ahead and take their vacation in Canada like they'd been planning to (the visit here was just the first stop on their trip) and that someone would call them if things changed. I haven't heard from them since, so I have to assume my uncle is still alive and kicking. I'm not surprised at that. Since he managed to come back at all, Uncle Butch isn't about to die again without a fight, I expect.
I'd love to have a chance to chat with him. Find out whether he remembers what happened/where he went in-between...
Posted by sally at August 1, 2007 09:55 PM
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