Monday, October 12, 2009
Thursday, October 1, 2009
I Survived the Death Panel
I'm going to run the assumption that you are smart enough to understand that the whole "Death Panel" thing is and was a big, fat lie.
Except.
Except that sometimes, when you are dealing with a government-funded program, they force the conversation.
The situation was that Mama was involved with a Department of Aging-funded program. I don't know why, but they insisted, required and demanded that we sat down with Mama and have the talk. The Talk.
It was devastating. H didn't want to think of a time where his mother wouldn't be here. He cried, he raged, he avoided. But. But. It came down to losing benefits if we didn't complete the forms.
So we did it. It sucked, it sucked, it sucked and we did it. We talked amongst ourselves, we asked Mama.
And.
And then we knew.
So when it came to that moment, when it came time in the hospital to try 'heroic' measures, when it came to the decision or machine or death, we knew what to do. We knew what Mama wanted us to do.
She didn't want to linger. She didn't want to suffer. She didn't want to be a burden. She didn't want to be in pain.
It still sucked, by the way. And I so did not want to respect her wishes, I wanted to do anything and everything and ANYTHING to keep her around, to keep her in my life. But H stood strong, and did what she wanted.
So.
I can tell you, for a fact, that the conversation would not have happened if the United States Government had not insisted it. And I can tell you, for another fact, that it helped us, as a family, cope with the and come to terms with the severity of Mama's condition.
So, should everyone do it? Should everyone be forced to endure that level of reflection and contemplation?
You're going to have your own opinion, but (within limits) I don't see the downside of it. As long as its handled appropriately.
So yes, I support the death panels.
Except.
Except that sometimes, when you are dealing with a government-funded program, they force the conversation.
The situation was that Mama was involved with a Department of Aging-funded program. I don't know why, but they insisted, required and demanded that we sat down with Mama and have the talk. The Talk.
It was devastating. H didn't want to think of a time where his mother wouldn't be here. He cried, he raged, he avoided. But. But. It came down to losing benefits if we didn't complete the forms.
So we did it. It sucked, it sucked, it sucked and we did it. We talked amongst ourselves, we asked Mama.
And.
And then we knew.
So when it came to that moment, when it came time in the hospital to try 'heroic' measures, when it came to the decision or machine or death, we knew what to do. We knew what Mama wanted us to do.
She didn't want to linger. She didn't want to suffer. She didn't want to be a burden. She didn't want to be in pain.
It still sucked, by the way. And I so did not want to respect her wishes, I wanted to do anything and everything and ANYTHING to keep her around, to keep her in my life. But H stood strong, and did what she wanted.
So.
I can tell you, for a fact, that the conversation would not have happened if the United States Government had not insisted it. And I can tell you, for another fact, that it helped us, as a family, cope with the and come to terms with the severity of Mama's condition.
So, should everyone do it? Should everyone be forced to endure that level of reflection and contemplation?
You're going to have your own opinion, but (within limits) I don't see the downside of it. As long as its handled appropriately.
So yes, I support the death panels.
Lo Siento
A little over a year ago, Mama died.
A little over three months ago, I lost my job.
A little over a month ago, I lost my chance of a second child.
Today, I feel sorry for myself. Please excuse.
Last night my husband and I were talking. Do we pay the maintenance (we have a co-op) or do we pay the mortgage? We don't have the money for both. Both need to be paid to ensure that we have a place to live. But. We don't have the money for both.
I keep hoping that H will find a job but even if he does... it won't be more money. Just better insurance. Insurance that I haven't exhausted the IF coverage on.
But. Let's be realistic. That's not what H does.
I'm lucky to have a child, I know that I am. But. He's never going to know his grandmother.
That pains me.
How can she not be here?
I speak Spanish to Spunx, as I know his Nona would have, but damn my Spanish is crap. And H speaks Spanish with almost no one, now that Mama has passed. So I worry that my promise to Mama, that the children will be raised bi-lingually, will not be kept. That she will be forgotten, that in many small, small ways she will die and die again, until there is nothing left of her.
feeling shorry for myself...
A little over three months ago, I lost my job.
A little over a month ago, I lost my chance of a second child.
Today, I feel sorry for myself. Please excuse.
Last night my husband and I were talking. Do we pay the maintenance (we have a co-op) or do we pay the mortgage? We don't have the money for both. Both need to be paid to ensure that we have a place to live. But. We don't have the money for both.
I keep hoping that H will find a job but even if he does... it won't be more money. Just better insurance. Insurance that I haven't exhausted the IF coverage on.
But. Let's be realistic. That's not what H does.
I'm lucky to have a child, I know that I am. But. He's never going to know his grandmother.
That pains me.
How can she not be here?
I speak Spanish to Spunx, as I know his Nona would have, but damn my Spanish is crap. And H speaks Spanish with almost no one, now that Mama has passed. So I worry that my promise to Mama, that the children will be raised bi-lingually, will not be kept. That she will be forgotten, that in many small, small ways she will die and die again, until there is nothing left of her.
feeling shorry for myself...
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