Proud man...
He signed a Living Will today, my father did. Didn't want any part of life-sustaining measures except antibiotics, and only those if they think he's going to get better. It was hard to read it to him, reading as loud as I had to in order for him to hear it, then explaining certain terms, such as "permanent unconsciousness" and "terminal condition." He has a roommate, a man who seems even further gone than my father, and for whom I've seen no visitors. Every once in awhile, he'd give a holler, but I doubt if he was much aware of our presence on the other side of the curtain. A nurse came in and out to check on the other man a couple of times, and I hesitated, then kept reading. We had to get through it, but I felt we were so...exposed.
Should have been whispered, should have been private, should have been more dignified. But my father lay there, picking at the IV scabs on his hands, interrupting my reading every once in awhile to say, "No, no, I don't want any of that. Don't let them do that to me. Just let me go." Lay there in a diaper. Proud man in a diaper.
What was even harder than reading it to him, talking to him about it, was watching him sign it. He's signing a document telling the doctor he does not want to be kept alive by artificial means, wants no cardiac resuscitation, wants no artificial respiration, wants no blood or blood products, and he was concerned about his penmanship, which ended up looking like it was signed by a third-grader.
That hurt the most. Man in a diaper, unable to sign his name to his satisfaction, trying his best to die with dignity. That hurt. God, that hurt.
Till...later...
Should have been whispered, should have been private, should have been more dignified. But my father lay there, picking at the IV scabs on his hands, interrupting my reading every once in awhile to say, "No, no, I don't want any of that. Don't let them do that to me. Just let me go." Lay there in a diaper. Proud man in a diaper.
What was even harder than reading it to him, talking to him about it, was watching him sign it. He's signing a document telling the doctor he does not want to be kept alive by artificial means, wants no cardiac resuscitation, wants no artificial respiration, wants no blood or blood products, and he was concerned about his penmanship, which ended up looking like it was signed by a third-grader.
That hurt the most. Man in a diaper, unable to sign his name to his satisfaction, trying his best to die with dignity. That hurt. God, that hurt.
Till...later...
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