Some months ago, I made a new will. The old one got left behind in the files of an attorney who died. His will stipulated that his office be packed up and closed, but not that his former clients know how to get their documents back. Put me in doubt about his ability to write a good will.
Old New England tombstones covered a lot of worry.
I’m not planning on dying anytime soon, which makes this the excellent time to write a will. On the other hand, none of us came to stay, so I might as well decide what I want to happen when I die. Note that I said “die” not pass away, pass on, pass, go Home, or other euphemisms. My body will die off. I don’t have a problem with that.
I am actually not afraid of death. I am terrified of becoming feeble and being at the mercy of medical care that is not aligned at all with the natural state of death. My insurance company decides who gets the transplants and who doesn’t, who lives and who dies. Oddly enough, the same company that doesn’t want to help you live well doesn’t want you to die, either.
So I created a document that spells out the conditions under which I want to be allowed to die. At some point, not determined by age alone, my body will reach the tipping point of interconnected biological collapse. Nature designs us to disintegrate, and I would like to have that happen without violent, invasive procedures performed by people who are hired not to think but to act, and in their lawyer’s best behalf, not mine. I want someone to make the same merciful decisions I made for a number of cats and dogs in my care.
My mother chose the path of natural death and it was one of the few things we agreed on. Well into her 90s, her mind gone and her body failing, those wishes were ignored. She had a Do Not Resuscitate Order which was ignored half a dozen times. By the time she was allowed to die, she had had her ribs broken from EMTs who didn’t check for med-alert bracelets. They thought of themselves as heroes. I did not.
My will covers what I want to happen to my body when it’s dead. (I’ve never been a fan of formaldehyde, and if people knew that embalming includes sewing your mouth shut through your nose and placing your organs in a plastic bag at your feet, they may choose a way to ensure that dust-to-dust actually happens.
Most of all, writing a will made me aware that I have work to do. Right now. I am not afraid to die, but I am afraid of not living fully. I don’t have a bucket list–it seems like a sad list of odd self-indulgence mixed with a weird competitive spirit of end of life achievement. I’m sticking to my to-do list. There are more interesting things I still have to do.
-–Quinn McDonald plans on a few more accomplishments before she dies.
I’ve found that having direct personal experience with death changes how you view it a bit. My husband of 37 years died in 2008 of pneumonia. He was in the ICU for about two weeks before I had him taken off life support.
We’d never had an discussion of what we wanted when one of us got sick. We didn’t have much, so there wasn’t really a problem with me resolving his estate. It’s a community property state here. His doctor in the ICU wanted me to sign a DNR that first week he was there. He told me that if his brother had x-rays of his lungs that looked as bad, that he would do that. You just can’t give up that quickly on someone. You have to have enough time to see that there really is no hope. (And frankly, hanging onto hope while you can does help you get to that point.)
But the real point to having wills and talking about the end of life is to make it easier for the ones that survive you. When you are in that situation, you really aren’t capable of thought. It is so overwhelming to try and deal with all the paperwork and little things to be resolved. It’s a blessing to those you love, to make those decisions today to make their life easier in the future.
I’m so sorry that your experience with your husband’s dealth was so difficult. It’s never easy, but dealing with Byzantine hospital rules and your own grief must have been a lot to bear. You said something very wise–Wills are for those left behind, to make their lives easier. Yes, indeed.
You might enjoy this book, if you can find it: Death and the Creative Life by Lisl M. Goodman, Ph. D. I found it fascinating, and the insights in it changed my life.
Good post, thank you!
Found the book. May I ask how it changed your life—I’m interested in knowing what you found fascinating.
Quinn! I couldn’t have said it better myself! LOL Maybe we were the same person in a previous life – now that makes me laugh. The thing about living into your/my to do list rather than my before-I-die list is brilliant. Thank you for this post. Lori W at Art Camp for Women
It makes me laugh how we have this “before I die” list that assumes we have 100 years before we need to think about it. Living your to-do list actually lets you experience life as it is–fun, work, sweat, stumbles, exaltation, laughter–all at once!
Pardon me for being dense, …..a will is for the dispersal of your ‘stuff’ after your gone, not likely to be read right away.
You mention ‘will’ relating to what you want to happen to your body….isn’t there a different name for that form? Living Will/Health Care Proxy?
2 different types of wills, or did I miss the distinction?
If you want to go on the cheap, there are Funeral Consumer Alliance organizations in many areas of the country, waaay cheaper than going the usual funeral home route. With or without a funeral home, probably depending on your locality.
“the tipping point of interconnected biological collapse” perfectly spoken!
What happens to you spiritually, physically, mentally and emotionally when you can no longer make decisions on your own is something that should be thought out well before the time is in front of you. That includes a pack of papers–Living Will, Medical Power of Attorney, Will, information on what you want done with your body, your Facebook Account, a list of your passwords, who should be emailed and who should be phoned. All those arrangements are generally kept in one place–the Will being the document we are most familiar with. That’s why I grouped them together. Nowadays, Wills aren’t opened with big fanfare, they are discussed ahead of time (OK, not everyone does that). Many times, objects that hold emotional power are distributed or designated ahead of time. It’s much healthier that way.
My mother lived to her late 90s as well. She always said she wasn’t afraid of death but the process un-nerved her a little. In the end, over a few weeks she simply decided to go and shut up shop as it were. Gradually slowed down and stopped. I monitored the process and was in awe of her calm and admired the quality of her care – such understanding and love from everyone.
Hospice care is excellent in these cases.
Timing is everything….I’m in the middle of updating my Living Will and Power of Attorney for Healthcare. I very specifically do not want to be kept alive by artificial means and I am so adamant in my position that if someone goes against this, I will truly come back to haunt them!
Just an FYI for those who may not know, but if you have a Do Not Resuscitate Order then you NEVER want to call 911. Doctors and nurses instructed me of this, actually they were quite insistent about it. When you call 911, they have an obligation to save the person’s life by whatever means necessary. I’m sure there are different protocols by state but for me personally, I would never want to take the chance.
I’m good with my life and I’ll be good with my death.
You are right, but it shows another one of those “I have to follow my orders, even if it is not the right thing to do.” If I’m an EMT, and someone has on a DNR bracelet, I’d honor that. And in my mom’s case, it was the nurse at the group home where my mom was–she told me she didn’t want to get into “lawyer trouble.” It’s just so hard to let people die in our culture.
Uggghhhh, I can’t believe the nurse did that. I’m literally speechless. This is such a big deal to me and I’ve been through this kind of “stuff” multiple times, where a dying person’s wishes weren’t followed, and it sends me over the edge. My husband and I just talked about it when we were re-doing our living wills and he had to tell me to calm down because I was getting so excited and adamant about it. LOL
Ray Kurzweil (the inventor) has one of the weirdest end-of-life fixations I know of; he’s 64 and adheres to a fairly bizarre diet in order to extend his life to the point where he can upload his “self” into a computer, or something like that. Honest, I’m not making this up.
Personally I would not look forward to being a computer; there’s no dialog box to tell your user “ouch, please stop banging so hard on my keyboard”.
Well, there’s an original idea. Maybe after Kurzweil has uploaded himself to a computer, he’ll print himself out a mew life with the new 3D material printers, which I find fasciating: http://tinyurl.com/87pvju4
There’s is a science fiction series with this as a reality for the main character. It doesn’t seem to really work out well for him. (Gateway by Frederick Pohl is the first book.)
The Matrix movies are based on something like this too. So is Tron. But Kurzweil is apparently serious. The notion of a computer with the volume of connections and memory in the same range as the human brain is plausible (already reality depending on how you define your terms) but that “upload” thing is (still?) pretty much fantasy.
Besides, we’re TOLD the brain is clearly the most important organ and that’s the one that ought to be immortalized, but come on, that’s just the brain talking. Nobody thinks to ask the opinion of the poor downtrodden appendix, do they? Talk about prejudice; you have a real grievance when your name enters the language meaning “an extra part that’s not really needed”.
There is an old joke about the brain thinking it’s the most important organ.It is NSFW and not family friendly, although any 7th grader today will find it hilarious.
Wow! That was very moving. I like how you think and now its got me thinking.
Thank you,
Vicki
there’s creative work to be done!
Well said–you echo my sentiments exactly.
Good to know I’m not alone.