Loki told me today that Peter had died at 4:30pm in the hospital. He never came out of his coma-like state after his cardiac arrest on the Wednesday before last.
I am not upset, because I hardly knew him, but when anybody you know dies, I guess, we are meant to feel something, but I do not know whether I feel anything at all. He was seventy-one after all, and you have to die at some point, sooner or later. Maybe, if I knew any of his family members I would feel worse. Or, maybe if I felt I could have done something significant to keep him alive, I would feel worse. Although, I felt I could have done something the other day, and I do not anymore.
One of the reasons for this, is the conversation I had with another doctor. This was about a week after speaking to the guy who told me that if his heart was not beating for ten minutes then his brain was probably severely affected. The second doctor I spoke to said that this type of cardiac arrest (i.e. brought about by the collapse of the left ventricle, blocked lung, and perhaps triggered by an asthma attack), is something you can do little about after it happens.
When it happens, that is basically the end. The heart is saying okay, you have neglected me all these years, and I cannot do it anymore. (It is a bit like some divorces that way, I imagine). There is very little you can do to fix the heart after that, apparently, because the attack itself damages so much and is the end result of many things. At least, that is what I got from the conversation.
The lesson I have got from this is to take care of what I have while I still can. And, if nobody objects, life goes on.