The Unbridled Joy of DNR

I was in a quandary, facing the DNR decision again. In the end, it was easy and so liberating I could sing like Sarah Gabriel. (You know, you could sing like Sarah – all you have to do is release all doubt, fill your lungs with Faith and Joy, and let ‘er rip.)

Sometime yesterday, facing a heart catheter, I began to regret the decision to permit rescue if my heart stopped again. For all the things I have to live for (and they are many, including sending Monte the $50 I owe him), dyin is not the worst that could happen. All I needed to do is write a Last Words document. Once done (and it’s groovy), I’m more or less ready. I still need to address the to-do list, and manage the medical conditions, but bring it on…

It’s not such a big decision. I am going to die, hopefully not today, but eventually. Between now and then, I will have good days and bad days, I will feel good and I will feel bad. But I will feel, baby, I will feel it all the way.

DNR is easy to decide when you’re popping a 150 bpm heart rate, about to throw up, coughing incessantly and pissed off. Let it go, man, enough of this. Of course, if you’re deep in a conversation with a grand child or other good friend, if you are rocking out on a solo, you wanna be saved, please gimme more of this life. If morning meds will let me live more of this, pay the copay and pop the pills. If by-pass gets me out of a traffic jam or two, go on round.

On the other hand, when the moment come, there it is.

That’s not my last words – we all have to wait for those until it’s time. But if heart lungs brain have stopped, that’s it. No matter when, what or where, There. It. Is.

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