Just plain selfish

In my line of work, we do so many things that hurt, or are in the very least, uncomfortable, to try for a better outcome. Sometimes the hurt is worth it.
But, so many times, we are doing nothing but torture people who have no chance of recovery. If we don't follow "Doctor's orders", we are in danger of getting "written up", or even losing our jobs. If the family doesn't complain, we don't have much of a leg to stand on with some doctors, to get the unnecessary orders rescinded, and reduce the patient's discomfort. Why draw labs every day, when you aren't going to do anything about them, or doing something about them won't make a bit of difference?
Frustrating for us. It happens, more often than people realize, that people beg us to let them die. More than frustrating, it's heartbreaking.
How, in the bible belt of the south, where people profess to be Christians, believe in God and Heaven, do we see so many people who just can't make the decision to let their loved ones go to the next step? Even if you DON'T believe in heaven, and think that when you go, there is just nothingness, how can you let people lie in pain, often in their own excrement multiple times a day, confused and scared? Wouldn't nothingness be better than that?
BUT, if you believe that there is a heaven, and that it is more glorious than anything anyone can imagine, how can you be so selfish to keep someone you love from that, when there is no longer any joy in life, no hope for joy in life?
I wasn't ready for my Daddy to be gone from my life, and since he's gone, I miss him more than I ever imagined I could, but he is where he should be, where he earned the right to be. At the very least, out of pain, without fear. And if his heaven is custom made for him, as I hope it is for us all, what wonderful things is he getting to see and do, and be?
Many think that a living will is a legal document that will prevent them from being intubated, etc. Sadly it isn't, it is nothing more than a road map to inform the doctors of what your wishes are. Your family can override it, and if they find you "down" in your home, it doesn't keep the EMT's or Paramedics from HAVING to try to resuscitate you!!! You need an actual "DNR" order for them to legally be able to let you go.( Do NOT Resuscitate)
Do you trust your family to follow your wishes? Do you trust some of them and not others? Make it crystal clear what they are, and pick one person, next of kin if possible and give them your health care power of attorney. You have a better chance then of things being handled the way you want. Make sure they know your tissue/organ donation wishes as well.
Back to baseline.....If anyone in my family keeps me from seeing Jesus when it is my turn, I plan on not only haunting them, but cursing them with plagues and locusts for being so selfish. If I'm not having any fun any more, and there is very little hope for any more fun...(my fun, not theirs), it is TIME TO GO....SEE YOU LATER!!!!
Guilt? NO!!! Feel guilty that you aren't saving me from lab draws, a sore butt, repeated sticks for new IV sites, being awakened every 4 hours for vitals signs to be taken, confusion, fear, possible hallucinations (I doubt very few are like Sean Connery deciding he can no longer live without me and coming to take me to an island he bought just for us.)
We would die for our children, we need to plan way ahead of time to live without our loved ones who are ready to move on, no matter how much it hurts.
Insist on comfort measures based on what you know your loved ones want, talk about it so you'll know what that is. Show them you REALLY love them by finding out so you can be prepared to fight for what they want. My Doc, who I love dearly, and trust with my life AND my death, tells me how hard it is for him to give up. But because he is an honorable man, he respects his patient's wishes. Some will not. Ego. Feeling of failure. Whatever, it is still a crime.
I have been in attendance to many passings, and without a doubt it is a sad time. It is also rewarding and an honor to be able to be a comfort to someone's last moments on this earth, and a comfort to the family in pain. The most rewarding are those where the family is in full support of the patient, and are at peace because they are trusting that they are placing them in better hands. When they have given them permission to go, have assured them they will be okay still here until they can meet again. What a gift. Most of the time, the greatest gift ever given to them.

Nicknames

My husband likes nicknames. He gives one to anybody he likes. Sometimes they aren't always kind, but those he gives the "less than kind" nicknames to, usually know his heart and are not offended.
He has a few of his own. One is Grumpy, accompanied by a framed picture of his namesake. He also has a hat we bought last September when we were in Disneyland that has "Grumpy" in cheerful colors across the front. He thinks that being grumpy is one of his cuter traits. For me, it is my number one reason to throw his butt in a nursing home first chance I get.
Two weeks after Ivan....we have pulled a good portion of the soggy stuff out of the house. A couple of the local golf courses have reopened, nothing here in our little town, but a couple in the nearby burg that didn't have as many trees, or maybe a better landscaping crew to clean up, I'm not sure which.
For the rooster, playing golf is almost as important as breathing, and I felt like he needed the break. I didn't go, because we were expecting an inspector from the Small Business Administration to come look at the house and verify that, indeed, we needed the loan to help get our house back. We had gone through the incredible pile of paperwork, not really expecting to get approved, but what the heck, worth a try, right? So, off he goes, and on, I stay.
I get a call from the SBA guy, he's in the vicinity, and if it is convenient for me, he will be by in a half an hour. Fantastic....I had really expected to sit all day and not hear anything. Only thing that has gone well in this process so far.
Five minutes later, I get another phone call, this time from the rooster. "Can you meet me at the hospital?"
"Uh, okay....what's happened, are you okay?" ( not REALLY sinking in, and HE'S talking to me, so chances are, he's not on the verge of dying. I'm a nurse, these are assessmant skills I have acquired over the years.)
"Well.....I got run over by a golf cart, and they are making me go to the hospital."
PAUSE
"Yeah, I know."
"....okay, how did you manage to get run over by a golf cart, which hospital are you going to, and HOW did you get run over by a golf cart?"
This really shouldn't have been that much of a surprise, as he has, over the years, found some really novel ways to hurt himself. But, I do believe this one will take the cake.
The EMS guys told him they weren't real busy, so they could take him to the hospital where I work, it will cost extra, tho, as you get charged by the mile. Okay by the rooster, people know him there, he feels he will get better care, etc. Okay, so my hospital it is, but it will take awhile, as they have to go another route, the bridge is out.
"Okay, but the SBA guy is on his way!!!! Said he would be here in half an hour!!!"
"Well, that is too important, and I'm not hurt that bad, you stay there, it will be at least 45 minutes before I get there, anyway, maybe longer."
"Okay, see you as soon as I can."
Still don't know how he managed to get run over.
About 15 minutes later, I get a call from our daughter, she's coming into town to go to church. Wanted to make sure we were home so she could come by after.
"Well, call me before you do, you may need to go by the hospital....Dad got run over by a golf cart!"
PAUSE
"Yeah... I know"
"Do you want me to go there first? HOW DID HE GET RUN OVER BY A GOLF CART?"
"Don't know yet, but he's not hurt bad, because he chatted with me for about ten minutes before he got in the ambulance, and he made as much sense as he ever does."
She relays this info to her car mate, who I hear say "WHAT????A GOLF CART? HOW DID HE GET RUN OVER BY A GOLF CART????" She replied "You know my Dad." "Yeah... yeah I do."
"Okay, yeah, it would help if you go there first, because the SBA guy is coming and this is too important and I can't get there right away. It will help if he has somebody there."
SBA guy comes, takes pics, takes info, doesn't take very long. Goes away, and I head to the hospital.
When I walk in the room, the rooster has three big dents on the side of his head with the top layer and maybe the second, of flesh scraped off. LARGE amount of flesh scraped off his arm, bruises starting to darken a number of spots on his body. I look at him, and say "Only you."
He grins and says, "yeah I know."
Nurse are coming by at regular intervals, sticking their heads beyond the curtain and asking, "Are you the guy who got run over by the golf cart?" The rooster likes attention, so he retells his story multiple times.
The cart had stopped, they couldn't figure out why, so he gets out and looks underneath. He's on the ground in front of the cart, he sees a stick, good sized one, hung up under the cart, keeping it from moving any farther. Tells the guy he's riding with, "Wait a minute, I'll get it" reaches in, pulls it out, and now that the stick is gone, the cart can GO. Right into him, pushes him several feet, and before they can get it to stop, has torn multiple areas of flesh off, put dents in his head, and made him goofier than he already was. He told me he was not really with it for awhile, and wanted to go ahead and finish the round when he started coming back around, but clearer heads prevailed. They threw him in the back of a pickup, took him to the ambulance. He got a rain check from the golf course.
The ER is getting lots of guys who have fallen off roofs, cut off body parts from chain saws while cleaning up the debris, having heart attacks from working harder than they have worked in, maybe, their entire lives. And who knows what kind of stress the staff was enduring from their own losses? The rooster was without a doubt, comic relief.
Called my son. " Just wanted to let you know, we are at the ER. The rooster just got run over by a golf cart."
PAUSE
" Yeah... I know."
I tell him the story, and he says they are on their way, he has to see this for himself.
They have scanned the rooster from head to toe, found out he does have a brain, albeit a little rattled. They give him a script for antibiotics and creams for the scrapes and such. Before we get out of there, tall person comes in, looks at the rooster and says,"HEY, SPEEDBUMP! HOW YA DOIN'?"
Speedbump it is. He's Speedbump to all who know the story at the golf course. Before we put the drywall back up, we all "tagged" the concrete block walls with our own special graffiti. SPEEDBUMP is now forever part of the makeup of this house. I can't imagine anything before the wrecking ball comes that will make that disappear.
It is also forever part of our Ivan lore. And, I doubt the nickname will ever go completely away. At least , I hope not. That would mean he would have to top it, and I am afraid he has the skills.
(This story is as true as I can make it, not having been there. I have left out some of the related details that were told to me, but they don't change the flavor of the tale.)

MY Heaven

One of the girls I work with just lost her horse. I haven't gotten the details as to how and why. I just know she has to be in terrible pain. She raised him from a foal and talked about him often.
"They" say that animals can't go to heaven because they have no souls. Why not? I believe that heaven is custom made for each and every soul, and MINE will have every animal I ever loved in it, or I don't really want to go.
John Edward, from "Crossing Over" says they are there, and Sharon Renae, from Navarre, says my Dad has a dog at his side. I told her he probably has 40 of them, but I also think I know which one she was talking about. Well, maybe two dogs to choose from in my brain. Depends on whether it's the one I want it to be, or one of the ones HE would want it to be. I think they are all there, this one happened to be at his side at that moment.
If they can't go there because they have no souls, then I think the small print must say that every one we love gets a tiny little piece of our soul because we love them. Just enough to get an invite in. Kind of like the Velveteen Rabbit. All his fuzz was loved off, but he was loved enough that he could become a real rabbit. And Pinocchio, he was loved enough to become a real boy.
The theme here is love.
Alzheimer's patients may forget who they are, how to swallow, who their kids and spouses are, but the last thing they forget is love.Comatose monitored patients have been seen to have high blood pressures and heart rates, but when spoken to or touched by someone they love, both will settle down to a more normal range. That is some powerful energy. And energy doesn't die, it just transforms and adapts.
A heavenly body is another form isn't it? And if they DO get a piece of our souls, just enough to gain admittance, do they also get their heavens tailor made? I hope so. In most cases, they really earned it. And especially if they don't really want to go if WE aren't there.