Who Owns Your Life?

                                                          

I wish I lived in a state that had a Death With Dignity law. I'm not sure I'd ever use it but I'd feel better if I had that option. For me, it's not about suffering. I have a pretty high pain tolerance - not that I want to suffer, you understand - but the far more serious concern for me is loss of control. I have always believed that I own myself but, of course, most politicians and churches  don't agree. They think they own us and can make our critical decisions for us. If we can have an abortion. Who we can marry. Where we can go to the bathroom, for God's sake. And how long we have to keep living.

When the hospice lady came to see me to tell me all the services, they provide I was more or less shaking my head in resignation - okay, okay. Then she said they would bathe me when when I got to the point I couldn't bathe myself. That statement sent cold chills down my spine. I don't want anyone to bathe me - not a nurse, not my best friend, no one! At that point, I think I'd be ready to call it a day.

I'm not one of those people who want their family and friends around them when they die. A nurse at Wellbrooke made me feel so much better about my Mom. I had been going twice and day and staying for hours. This nurse (I don't know her name) told me to go home and get some rest.

I said, "but what if she dies when I'm gone?"

"I've been doing this for 30 years and I can tell you people decide for themselves. If your mother dies when she's alone, it's because she wanted it that way. 

She was alone when she died but the nurse's words eased my guilt.

My grandma was just the opposite. She was in a coma, on the verge of dying, but she hung on. My Aunt Deanie told her, "Jane (my mother) is on her way, Momma."

This was in Illinois and Mom was coming from Indiana. She walked into the room and kissed Grandma and held her hand. Fifteen minutes later she took her last breath. I truly believe she was waiting for her last child to come say good-bye.

I think I'd be more like Mom. Go away and leave me alone to do this.

A friend and I talked about suicide and how we'd do it if it ever came to that. I have loaded guns in the house but when I worked for the City, I remember the firemen's stories about people who shot themselves but didn't get the job done. One man shot his jaw off. Well, that would certainly just compound your misery!

Besides that, I wouldn't want my friends to find such a horrifying sight. That would be cruel.

I have all kinds of pills around here but I don't know anything about what or how many you'd need to take to die. Take too many and you'd just vomit them back up.

I almost drowned once and that was actually pleasant. I'd jumped off a high dive into a very deep gravel pit, went to the bottom and just sat there Indian-fashion. I didn't even realize I couldn't breathe - but I don't think it's always that serene and besides, I don't know where there's a gravel pit with a high dive.

We finally decided the best way would probably be carbon monoxide. Drive your car into the garage and leave it running. You'd have to be determined though because I don't think that's very quick. A friend's husband committed suicide that way but he changed his mind and made it as far as the kitchen. They found him reaching for the phone.

No way really seems ideal. I've had to have several pets put down because they were in serious pain. They got a shot, gave a sigh and relaxed into death. We're kinder to animals than we are to ourselves.

A Caring Touch And a Generous Heart

                                                  

I reader asked me the other day - "if you could tell me one thing I need to know about cancer, what would it be?"

My answer: choose your doctor wisely. Whether you've decided to undergo the full gamut of treatment or like me, forego it all together, having a doctor with whom you have a warm rapport is a necessity.

I don't mean every doctor. If you're having chemo and radiation or anything else, you'll have specialists who may or may not be particularly personable. I'm talking about your family doctor, your every day doctor, the one whom you can call with concerns or questions. The one who will treat you like he or she really cares about you, not only as a patient, but a person.

I'm lucky because I have that doctor, Doctor Rose Wenrich. She told me early on that she was my doctor, my friend and my advocate. She didn't really have to tell me because I already knew it but I was glad she did anyway.

When I first told her that I didn't even want a cat scan to see if the spot on my lung was cancer she said that wouldn't be her recommendation. When I explained my reasoning, she respected it and me as an adult competent to make my own decisions. She didn't give up on me though but immediately ran tests to see what medicine might be best for me in my situation.

It turned out, she changed my diabetes medication and my blood pressure pills since both my sugar and blood pressure were low. That helped me have more energy. The emergency room doctor who first diagnosed the cancer had already put me on Furosemide (Lasix) and that almost completely took away the shortness of breath I was experiencing.

I still didn't have much stamina so Dr. Rose did some more tests and discovered that I was extremely anemic. She told me to buy over-the-counter iron pills and oh, my Gosh, they worked like a miracle. I now go to Walmart (not that I like going to Walmart) which I couldn't do before. I can climb my stairs without having to rest every third step. I cook again (well, okay, not a lot but some).

I never had impossible expectations for Dr. Wenrich. All I wanted from her was as high of quality of life as possible during the interim and not to suffer at the end.  And maybe an affectionate hug when I walk out the door. She already fulfilled the first and last requests and I have no doubt I can count on her for the other as well. 

If you don't have that kind of relationship with your doctor, I'd suggest finding another doctor.