©Carter Chill 2022

There’s nothing like the construction of a Living Will to remind you that you’re deep into the fourth quarter. Beyond being an Oxymoron, a Living Will provides an opportunity to establish a DNR order.  DNR stands for Do Not Resuscitate. Because, you see, there are times, and then there are times.

Trust me, I am in no hurry to meet the Grim Reaper. If I am at Andiamo’s and I chuck down a piece of Gnocchi too big for my gullet, I encourage any fellow patron to apply the appropriate gullet cleansing maneuver. If I accidentally cut off an arm with a chainsaw, by all means, rub some dirt on it. If my liver goes south, stick another one in if you’ve got one laying around.

But if I’m up to my neck in whatever end stage calamity Mr. Death has in store for me, a DNR prevents all that Code Blue fuss just so I can make it to one more billable day. My primary fear is that some gung-ho resident heroically defibs me and I end up alive but with the verbal skills of Chewbacca, and the brain wave equivalent of Basic Cable. They call it a Persistent Vegetative State.

Even with a Living Will and DNR in place, I’m thinking that there’s nothing like shouting it from the rooftops.  Apparently, what seems to be obvious becomes irrelevant in the Universe where Doctors, Lawyers, Theology and Congress collide. 

Ahem.

I don’t want anybody confused about what a “Persistent Vegetative State” is.  I don’t care if I should drop into a Persistent Fruit Like State or a Persistent Dairy Like State. If I’m in any kind of major food group state other than the “I’ll Be right With You” State, then somebody pinch off that air tube.  

I want everyone crystal clear on what I consider to be “responsive.”  Sometimes, a loved one can get optimistic. If you’re asking what my name is and you’re getting spit bubbles for an answer, we are not talking responsive.  If someone lights an M-80 under the bed, and I move an eyebrow, it doesn’t mean that I’m ready to order chicken wings and play Canasta. I don’t want anybody mistaking gas camps for a “Howdy.”

If someone clutching a bible and an agenda should show up spouting God’s Will, plop a pizza in front of me for a few days. If I don’t make a move for the grub, I’m thinking God has made himself clear on the subject.

I’ve yet to meet one single soul willing to admit that they would want to be kept alive in a Persistent Vegetative State. Not one. Nada..  The only horror I can imagine worse than a Persistent Vegetative State would be an Intermittent Vegetative State.  I’m not interested in years of intensive therapy with the sole purpose of getting me to the point where I can recognize a choo-choo.

Frankly, all in all, I think I’ve been forthright in my wishes. I will promise to do my best to be an easy mark.  I will walk towards the light. All that thrashing around is just stubborn snake brain behavior. Ignore it.  It will be all over in a minute. Think Jack Nicholson in One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest.. A few more seconds now…there…..that’s the ticket. Thaaaat’s right. It’s getting much better now.

Good night.

And thanks.