Saturday, August 17, 2002

Dear Friends and Family Members and Regular Corner Readers, whom I also consider to be friends (even though I may have never met you),

Please, please, pretty please, read the following words very carefully. I guess I consider it something like a living will. It is inspired by a patient I have worked with for the past few weeks.

I, now being of somewhat sound mind and body, do hereby request the following should, in an unlikely and damn sucky incident that causes me to lose my capabilities-due to accident, illness, harmful intent or enormous stupidity-be done on my behalf:

Don't put me on a ventalator. Don't put any tubes down my nose in hopes to feed me. Don't put any tubes in my stomach in hopes to feed me. Don't stick needles in my arms trying to find a decent vein to start an IV. I give permission to put in a Hickman catheter in my subclavian vein, and the nurses can use that til the cows come home. For God sakes, don't let me piss or shit on myself. Don't make me wear adult pampers. Get me the best gift you can, a patient controlled analgesic pump (PCA pump- ask the nurses, they'll get one for you) filled with morphine, and every six minutes or so, hit that little button that is attached to it. Just keep hitting that button. If I stop breathing or my heart stops beating, don't stress the nurses out by demanding that my dead ass be brought back to life. Let me go Home to meet my Maker. I ask that my beloved cat Chessie be allowed to snuggle with me in the few hours left of my life. Everyone else can leave.

In the event that my wishes aren't met, in the time of my death, I will make it my point to come back and haunt each and everyone of you.
Thank you for your time.

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