earworm

I sometimes morbidly wonder what my last conscious thoughts will be before I slip into a coma or die suddenly. If I'm in a crash, I'm pretty sure my mind will be filled with some version of Oh, shiiiiiiiii— or Fuuuuu—, but if I'm old, lying in bed, and slowly slipping away, I often wonder... will my final thoughts be in English? In French? In Korean? In Spanish? (I'll have learned Spanish by then.) Will it just be a strange series of amorphous images, a kaleidoscopic prelude of whatever adventure awaits me in the beyond (or of the vast nothingness that lurks on the other side of the Great Door)?

What's horrible to me is the idea that my final thoughts will be some stupid commercial jingle from my past, and even now, when one of those jingles slips into my mind and refuses to leave (the dreaded "earworm"), I find myself thinking, That had better not be the last thing going through my head when I die. Just today, I had that fucking Velamints jingle from the early 80s in my head for a good chunk of the early afternoon (don't remember it? here it is). I'd rather that my final thoughts be something awesome like I love my brothers or Mom, I'm finally coming home or See you in hell, Mike. I don't want to descend into oblivion accompanied by goddamn Velamints, no matter how beautiful Cathy Lee Crosby might have been back in the 80s. Please, God, let me die well. Then again, as psychopomps go, you could do worse than Cathy Lee Crosby.