There are some days I will miss London

Feeling bogged down in the library with the work I'm doing for finals - book upon book - I walked down the road to the Wellcome Trust for their exhibition on death and dying. Also, I am in the middle of my Oncology rotation, and have spent time in the hospice next to the hospital in the last few weeks, having been taught and told a lot about death recently. Entering the plush building, I am greeted by an introduction to the exhibition explaining how our ancestors were much more in touch with their feelings about death than today's society is - they describe it as one of the last taboos. The exhibition is pictures of people in hospices in Germany, big, beautifully taken black and white pictures - shortly before and shortly after they died. A small note next to the two pictures explains a little about their life, and about how they were and what they said about their coming death. Very moving, most were calm, resigned. The exhibition didn't shy away from describing the fear and desperation of some of the people - these were the ones I found most moving, the words of my favourite poet, Dylan Thomas, running unbidden through my mind. Rage, rage .... Two expensive black folders, with thick cream paper, lie at the exit for people to write in. I loved to read what they said. Many saying how moving it was. Many saying how grateful they were that someone had the courage to present it. A 9 year old girl writing that she was very interested and grateful for someone telling her a little about "what it was going to be like". A doctor writing that he tries to give people "a good death". A man writing that he was going to go home and make love to his beautiful wife.

I walked out, feeling pretty washed out but with a small feeling that I had the beginning of quite a new thought - that death can be a pretty life-affirming thought, and fear of death is perhaps fear of life, and not making of it what you want.

The tall glass buildings of Euston Road shine down on me as I leave. The traffic noise assails me. I walk back to the libary to continue my reading.