Hi kids, it’s your old pal Jim here, with a public service announcement. If you’re reading this, it means I care about you and your family, and it is extremely important to me that you read this entire message.
With all the hullabaloo and rigamarole over the healthcare reform bill, there are mixed feelings all around. I’ll stay out of the political crap for now, and try to keep this brief:
If your parents are currently not deceased, and you are anywhere near my age (within ten years, let’s say), I want you to start planning, now, TODAY, to talk to them about writing up a Living Will, and a regular old Will.
My father died nearly four years ago. His first and only heart attack. One day, while I was at work in Baltimore, I got the phone call from my brother. Dad was just…gone. Some random, idle Thursday, I found out I’d never hear my father’s voice again.
Talk to your parents NOW.
My dad didn’t leave a Will. It caused heartache that you couldn’t imagine, and you can read about it in the archives of this blog. My brother had been trying to convince my dad to draw up a Will for nearly a decade, even bought some software to help the cause. For whatever reason, it just never happened. I’m sure the fear of even thinking about one’s own death can be crippling, and can cause a severe flight response.
I know some of you have parents who are similar to mine: maybe they’re simple folk, from a different time and place. Maybe a little bit of redneck in ‘em? Or maybe just a little more salty and real than most people these days. That’s great, and it’s part of why we love them so much, but it also probably means they’re stubborn. Seriously, if one decade of trying to convince my dad to write up a Will was unsuccessful, you’d better fucking start now.
I watched my mother slowly die from cancer. I’ve been living without her for seventeen years. My father died when he opened a door and entered a room. I’ve been living without him for four years. And I miss them so much, it still aches. Now, here’s the thing: I’ve seen a number of you write, on Facebook and elsewhere, things like “thank god I haven’t had to have those difficult discussions with my parents yet.” And each time I hear a new person say it, a very large part of my heart weeps for how much time you’re wasting.
Now, I don’t have any personal experience with “advance directives,” which is a fancy term that means “creating a legally binding document that tells the world what I want to happen if I can no longer speak for myself.” A friend of mine had to deal with this recently: his father — whose state of health was semi-unknown, but let’s say he was doing just fine — fell from a ladder one day, hit his head, and went into a coma and hasn’t come out. Now, ask yourself: what would you do? What could you do? Do you have any idea how to answer either of those two questions?
Just, please, talk to your parents. There will be tears. There may be yelling and denials. There may be jokes about immortality. That’s great. Laugh, cry, yell, and then get them to do something about it. And make sure they know they can change their minds whenever they want. If, today, your dad says “hell no, pull the plug on me if I’m ever a vegetable,” he might have some kind of existential epiphany next week that makes him change his mind. He can do that. Same thing with your mom, or your aunt or uncle (who are sometimes kinda the closest thing you’ve got to parents…ask me how I know) no matter what their wishes might be.
Part of the reason it’s hard to have the conversation is that we don’t really know what we’re supposed to put in a Living Will (not to be confused with a regular old Will). So, it’s probably smart to talk to your parents about consulting with their doctor. If at all possible, accompany them.
I don’t know, I guess that’s all I’ve got to say. Thanks.