Thursday, March 31, 2005

Sad day... for sure

Terri Shiavo died today.

A sad day, certainly for her family-- up to and including her husband.

Sure. He "moved on", started another family, but does that negate his feelings towards Terri? I doubt it very much.

My father divorced my mother 20 years before he died. He married another woman within a month of that divorce. But he never stopped caring for my mother. He never once said a bad word about her in my presence.

In my own opinion, Michael Shiavo's fight to let his wife die gracefully and with dignity proves that. Doesn't matter that "some people", including her parents didn't believe him. He said that her wishes were to be let go. Who would know better than someone that was sharing his life with her?

Let's see. I am, what, two years younger than she was? Let me put this into perspective, just for a minute.

She's been in this "state" for 15 years. That would have made her 26ish. Prior to this happening, she told her husband that she never wanted to be kept alive in a vegitative state, should anything like "that" happen to her-- this was after watching some TV movie about a woman in a similar situation.

Oh... the things we say when we are young and nothing bad is ever going to happen to us.

How do I know this? I did the same thing.

You see, once upon a time, I was in the same boat. Not a vegitative state, mind you... but I was, to coin a rather adult phrase: young, dumb, and full of cum. I said the same thing to my then partner/husband. I told him to never let that happen to me. Let me go, that's what I would want.

At some point we parted ways. An nobody knew what my wishes were.

Then I met TheHusband. And found out I was HIV positive. Of course, I did what anyone would do when they find out they have a debilitating, degenerative, fatal disease. I freaked out.

Then I got over it and prepared. I wrote a will. I also wrote a Living Will. Then I gave TheHusband a copy of it. Then I gave my father a copy of it. Then I gave my siblings a copy of it. Then I gave my doctors copies of it. I made it clear what a DNR would mean to me. Let me go. Do not use the paddles on my pitiful chest for more than... say... 20 minutes at a time. Do not cut out all my innards if that is the only way to keep me going. And for damned sure, don't stick a feeding tube into my belly if that is the only thing keeping my body breathing, especially if my brain has turned to mush from all that paddle use on my chest because the freakin' paramedics took too gods dammed long to get to my house.

And I made it clear to my siblings that TheHusband is the one to make decisions regarding my care. Not my mother, not my father (before he passed away, that is) and certainly not them. This doesn't mean that I don't love and cherish any of them, but more that TheHusband has shared the last 13 years with me, day in and day out. They only know me (as I am now) from emails, phone calls, and the occasional visit.

-----
The only reason I posted any of this nonsense is because I found the following website. It's tasteless, let's be honest. But I laughed my ass off. I laughed until I cried. I laughed until my stomach muscles hurt.

I'm not kidding.

So for the people who don't find tasteless humor funny, please... I implore you... don't click on the link. But for the rest of us? Please click away.

0 Comments:

Post a Comment

Links to this post:

Create a Link

<< Home