Addendum to the previous post:
First, everybody, run out right now and make your own personal wishes known as far as your own life and death are concerned. Tell your spouse, your kids, your parents, and your best friend. If anybody argues with you, make sure you have it in writing. Fill out the form that says no extraordinary means including feeding tube if that’s your preference, or put a checkmark next to eggplant.
Second, while I cannot and would not presume to know what Terri or anyone else would want, this is my declaration that I would not want anyone keeping me from either a fancy schmancy Heaven or a reincarnated new life by tieing my soul to a dead body for a decade. Life may be precious, but to me, that’s not the goal. Let my husband be free to remarry and enjoy life while he can. I am a clinger to things, but not to a life spent not knowing I even have it, or worse, knowing and not being able in any way to partake of it. Stand out of the way and let my designated plug-puller into the hospital room.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology
You can tell everyone you want, Susan but you need a Living Will with Power of Appointment – signed, notarized, etc. It may be called something else in CT, but in NY, even with my own Dad, with all of us there, my mother, all my sisters, and after talking to his personal doctor, the doctor on duty still put me through the hoops before they’d honor my request to stop giving him transfusions when he was in the end stage of pancreatic cancer.
So please, I’m sure you can even find forms on line, have a Living Will ceremony with your significant other and sign the damn things!
You’re right, of course. It is the only way to have your own wishes take priority. And, it’s a thoughtful gesture as well, taking the horrid responsibility off those you love and who love you.
with my dad recently passing away (and having gone through the trauma of forcing him to acknowledge that he would have to sign one if he truly wanted to end his journey in this life on his own terms), I promptly went out and made mine legal and gave copies to both my sons.
I can also say that talking with my father about this was one of those things that put me in the “I’m a grown up now” column for sure. He was a very intelligent man, and even then I had to cajole and arbitrate for him to realize that his only hope of leaving this earth without heoric measures keeping him bound indefinitely was to PUT IT IN WRITING. He finally acquiesced about three months before his death. He was very grateful that I had been tenacious enough to open his eyes, and said so time and again.
Especially at the very end, he acknowledged that it had been worth the stark reality of putting pen to paper. He died peacefully in his own home, minus tubes and wires and beeping noises.
I can never assume to speak for others, but as for me, I’m not too terribly partial to eggplant. And now I have it in writing.
I can’t leave without adding that even when you DO have it in writing, the health care personnel will fight you … their focus is to sustain life, and your written directive is in direct contrast to this goal. It comes down to having someone in the room who is staunch enough to be persistent, even if it means watching someone you love struggling to leave this life behind. Having it in writing gives your family the benefit of knowing that they have not abandoned you, but are merely loving you enough to let you go … this is no easy thing, but it is a thing worth doing.
We went through the horror of having my father transported to a hospital and intubated because there was a time when the person in the room could not stand up to the health care professionals that were on hand … believe me, getting him back out of that hospital was no easy thing. If we had not HAD IT IN WRITING, he’d probably still be there, trapped within the marvels of modern science. This experience made it that much easier for me to sit in a chair across from an attorney, and get it signed and notarized. I happened to be in an attorney’s office anyway shortly after my father’s death, and took this opportunity to update my will, get an advanced directive, and secure a power of attorney for my son to make health decisions on my behalf.
It may be the best gift I’ve ever given myself, as well as the best gift I will ever give my son.
It wasn’t comfortable to think about, but the alternative was decidely more disquieting.
Sorry for rambling, but this one is still fresh for me, and I’m extremely grateful that I made the journey, and even more grateful that I now have it in writing. No gray area (or shades of eggplant). Signed and notarized. The end.