Doing Death Thomas Fleming - JULY 01, 2004 PRINT PAGE | SEND TO FRIEND When my mother died, the doctors pumped my father so full of tranquilizers and mood elevators that he lumbered through the funeral like a representative of the living dead. He had awakened one morning to discover his wife dead beside him, and, since he was a heart patient, the doctors were afraid that he could not survive the shock. PLEASE SUBSCRIBE OR LOGIN WITH YOUR SUBSCRIPTION CREDENTIALS TO SEE THE FULL ARTICLE