If I could choose my exit, I opt for a quick death--here one minute, gone the next, with little or relatively little pain. But, barring suicide, one has little to say in the matter. So, this next entry is to address what should happen if I should not get the quick out that I hope for.
Simply put, I don't want extraordinary efforts taken to maintain a life not worth living, for which there is no hope of recovery. Lucy's story, in At the End of Life, resonates with me. Lucy was 8 years old when she was diagnosed with leukemia. Her initial treatment led to remission, but when the cancer returned, a bone marrow transplant was her only option. Against the odds, Lucy developed a particularly severe form of host versus graft disease, which her parents were told would make her wish she had died. The recount of what happened was gut-wrenching. Lucy did want to die, but the doctors and nurses were mightily to keep her alive. Lucy, although a child, recognized that the quality of her life could never be sufficient to make life worth living.
Or consider Mr. Stone, an elderly man who knew the end was near when he expressed his wish not to be intubated and put on a ventilator. That didn't stop the doctors from suggesting that he was incapable of making such a decision and intubating him against his wishes.
I want to live! Let me rephrase, I want to live with dignity! I want to love my family and argue about politics and cheer for the Cowboys.
And I want to die with dignity. I don't want to be hooked up to machines that breathe for me or perform other bodily functions if there is no hope of living, truly living without the new technology If I exist only in body, but my spirit is trying to go, let me go! Let me go to my Savior!
I want to be pain-free and generally comfortable, and I want to be at home. Surround me with love, some music from the 60s and 70s, and let me go.
For the record, I do have an advance directive, but lest there be any doubt, let this serve as additional evidence of my wishes.
Saturday, September 14, 2013
Thursday, August 22, 2013
And When I Die, and When I'm Gone . . .
Nothing is certain except death and taxes, so the saying goes. And as much as I hate to admit that I'm pretty much like everybody else, like everybody else, I'm not going to get out of this world alive. It's a fact. I don't mean to be macabre, but that's just the way it is.
Therefore, recognizing that it will happen, some day, hopefully far in the future, I think it is best to do a little planning to help my family in the event they must make decisions for me before my demise as well as to help them once it occurs.
Why do it now? Simply put, I've been influenced by two books in particular. The title of the first one, At the End of Life: True Stories About How We Die, by Lee Gutkind, is pretty self-explanatory. It is a collection of personal accounts written by both health care professionals and loved ones of people who have died that were touched in some way by that death. Many of the essays were poignant; some were inspirational; some were disconcerting. The essays confirmed for me that I never want to be subjected to the degradation and suffering of a life prolonged by artificial means at all costs. There comes a time to go, and if my time should come by way of some debilitating disease or some injury from which recovery will not occur, I just want to go--but more on that another time.
The other book that has led me to this point is The American Way of Death, by Jessica Mitford (as updated in the 1990s). Why, in God's name, would anyone sink thousands of dollars in the ground with the cost of an elaborate funeral? I think it's rather silly to overdo a wedding when it's only one day, but at least it will create fond memories meant to last a lifetime. But with a funeral, there is no lifetime to recall with fondness the hope and beauty of that day. More on this as well at a later time, but to put it simply, I want a simple send-off. Absolutely NO PUBLIC VIEWING, and no embalming. Direct cremation, followed by perhaps a simple memorial service, and then a party for anyone (family, friends, enemies, and people who didn't even know me) who cares to join in the celebration--whether a homegoing celebration or a ding-dong-the-witch-is-dead celebration.
That's it in a nutshell. I will expand on this in future postings.
Therefore, recognizing that it will happen, some day, hopefully far in the future, I think it is best to do a little planning to help my family in the event they must make decisions for me before my demise as well as to help them once it occurs.
Why do it now? Simply put, I've been influenced by two books in particular. The title of the first one, At the End of Life: True Stories About How We Die, by Lee Gutkind, is pretty self-explanatory. It is a collection of personal accounts written by both health care professionals and loved ones of people who have died that were touched in some way by that death. Many of the essays were poignant; some were inspirational; some were disconcerting. The essays confirmed for me that I never want to be subjected to the degradation and suffering of a life prolonged by artificial means at all costs. There comes a time to go, and if my time should come by way of some debilitating disease or some injury from which recovery will not occur, I just want to go--but more on that another time.
The other book that has led me to this point is The American Way of Death, by Jessica Mitford (as updated in the 1990s). Why, in God's name, would anyone sink thousands of dollars in the ground with the cost of an elaborate funeral? I think it's rather silly to overdo a wedding when it's only one day, but at least it will create fond memories meant to last a lifetime. But with a funeral, there is no lifetime to recall with fondness the hope and beauty of that day. More on this as well at a later time, but to put it simply, I want a simple send-off. Absolutely NO PUBLIC VIEWING, and no embalming. Direct cremation, followed by perhaps a simple memorial service, and then a party for anyone (family, friends, enemies, and people who didn't even know me) who cares to join in the celebration--whether a homegoing celebration or a ding-dong-the-witch-is-dead celebration.
That's it in a nutshell. I will expand on this in future postings.
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