On Death and Dying -- My Own
Not that I have any immediate plans -- I don't. But I've begun to think about / ponder / talk about my preferences for when that moment comes. I've noticed in recent years that my ears kind of prick up when the news talks about some absurd medical interference or some colossal medical heroics. My internal reaction is always "I wouldn't want that."
It wasn't always that way. When my children were young, I desired passionately to be there for them throughout childhood. Sometimes I wasn't the parent I wanted to be, and sometimes (truth be told) I wasn't even "there" ... but I was alive, and reachable one way and another, and coming back. Nowadays, though, there isn't that obligation. The grandkids are old enough to know that birds and pets die, and to begin to talk about how grandparents do, too. So nowadays, I notice I feel free to stay or go.
I'm really clear, inside myself, that I want to live a full, rich life, and die when I'm finished with it. And I dinna see that being any time soon.
And I'm having trouble finding a way to make sure that my dying doesn't get in the way of my death. Let's suppose, for example, that I managed to accidentally discorporate while deeply engaged in profound meditation ... or doing yoga ... or catching my breath after a brisk and satisfying waltz or lindy ... or at the end of great sex ... or while listening to my favorite music ... or during an excellent ski run ...
... that is, let's suppose that at the moment of death I happen to be "doing just fine."
That sounds pretty good to me.
... until I realize that, unless I am totally alone at that moment, what's likely to happen is some young over-adrenalized whippersnapper with CPR training will rush over, yell into my face, break a few ribs (or at least create a bunch of bruising) and probably give me some hospital time and some discomfort if not pain. After which, at some point, I'll have to do it all again anyway.
Has Life suddenly become compulsory? Are we only allowed to die after some professional has certified us as "near-terminal" or about to have a "predicted" cause of death? But wait -- whose life is it, anyway? whose body is this? If I choose to write a Do Not Resuscitate agreement, how can I get the EMT folk to honor it?
How can I get the peaceful death that I want without being seen to compromise the urgent resuscitation that other people presumably want?
It's a puzzlement -- and one my grandmother didn't have to think about atall. Hmm.
It wasn't always that way. When my children were young, I desired passionately to be there for them throughout childhood. Sometimes I wasn't the parent I wanted to be, and sometimes (truth be told) I wasn't even "there" ... but I was alive, and reachable one way and another, and coming back. Nowadays, though, there isn't that obligation. The grandkids are old enough to know that birds and pets die, and to begin to talk about how grandparents do, too. So nowadays, I notice I feel free to stay or go.
I'm really clear, inside myself, that I want to live a full, rich life, and die when I'm finished with it. And I dinna see that being any time soon.
And I'm having trouble finding a way to make sure that my dying doesn't get in the way of my death. Let's suppose, for example, that I managed to accidentally discorporate while deeply engaged in profound meditation ... or doing yoga ... or catching my breath after a brisk and satisfying waltz or lindy ... or at the end of great sex ... or while listening to my favorite music ... or during an excellent ski run ...
... that is, let's suppose that at the moment of death I happen to be "doing just fine."
That sounds pretty good to me.
... until I realize that, unless I am totally alone at that moment, what's likely to happen is some young over-adrenalized whippersnapper with CPR training will rush over, yell into my face, break a few ribs (or at least create a bunch of bruising) and probably give me some hospital time and some discomfort if not pain. After which, at some point, I'll have to do it all again anyway.
Has Life suddenly become compulsory? Are we only allowed to die after some professional has certified us as "near-terminal" or about to have a "predicted" cause of death? But wait -- whose life is it, anyway? whose body is this? If I choose to write a Do Not Resuscitate agreement, how can I get the EMT folk to honor it?
How can I get the peaceful death that I want without being seen to compromise the urgent resuscitation that other people presumably want?
It's a puzzlement -- and one my grandmother didn't have to think about atall. Hmm.