Always On

I'm a lawyer. I've struggled a lot to get to this point in my life. I'm a lawyer. It is my profession, but not who I am. So, I was surprised to hear my husband comment to me last night: "don't you ever shut it off? Are you always in Lawyer mode?"

Shocked I guess because he is right. I can logic - is that an action? - myself out of just about any situation. I've questions swirling through my head at all times. I can usually find the angle, the story, the hidden gem. I am always on.

So, the question du jour is this: Say one is permanently disabled and then that person gets a serious but not usually fatal illness. We will call it Pneumonia.

Treatment for a serious bout of pneumonia involves antibiotics and also possibly help breathing.

Now, say the person doesn't get any better after 4 weeks of treatment in intensive care for pneumonia. Still on a ventilator, still eating through a tube.

Ok, got it? Now, throw in the monkey wrench of a living will which provides no heroic measures, no resucitation. Being placed on the ventilator for a serious but not fatal illness isn't resucitation and was done with the understanding that the person would be well soon.

Ok, still with me? Now, say that person decides to end treatment for the pneumonia. That is an individual's right, isn't it? To end treatment for an illness.

Ahhh, another monkey wrench! Ending treatment may mean a slow, painful death from being unable to breathe because the lungs remain filled with fluid. Then again, it may not.

So, say the doctors end treatment but the lungs don't work and the patient needs resucitated - enter living will.

Ahhh, another monkey, another wrench - the doctor violates HIPPA by calling select family members and informing them of the decision of the patient to end treatment - thus causing the family to enter into a flurry of activity aimed at "gently" persuading said patient to change his mind. . .

Oh wait, did I tell you there were many monkeys at this particular garage?

Here's another, after ordering not one but two psych evaluations to prove mental instability - because really, who would want to die when all they have is pneumonia? The doctor announces to all present that he refuses to follow the patient's wishes because it would be "murder." Since when? If he was a Jehovah's Witness he could refuse treatments!

Oh, but the kicker, the blessed kicker - said patient is a tetraplegic. He has very limited use of his hands and has limited range of motion in his arms andno feeling from his breastbone down. He's been this way for over 20 years, has had two failed suicide attempts that have depleted him of yet more of his physical abilities - what little he had - including the ability to speak without souding like a smoker because of a tracheostomy tube.

After I've gone through all the legal scenarios, all the personal civil rights violations and also the indignity of it all, I come to this: God let him live through two attempts on his own life, he has played the hand he's been dealt - and we are at a crossroads. He has been shown an opportunity - to end medical treatment - the result being the possible end of his life - possible. Perhaps this was in his cards all along?

The problem? Family. Family - compassionate yet jarringly selfish. Content to watch him suffer, to make the obligatory holiday or illness visit, but not content to let a grown man of sound mind decide his own fate - take charge of his own health or lack thereof.

I struggle with the legal side of this potpouri of violations only to come to the realization that perhaps this was God's plan. And to wonder why I am not as selfish - my dear husband will lose an uncle, a father figure, his god father, his mother's twin. Why am I content to allow that to happen? To respect his dignity and his wishes? Is it the law - has it jaded me to human emotion? Certainly it isn't a lack of intimacy. I've known him for nearly 15 years. In 15 years I've seen him leave his bed only during the holidays. 15 years of bed sores, the inability to bath oneself, to brush one's teeth. 15 years of watching the world drive by through a picture window in an overwarm bedroom.

I watched as he struggled to bring a hand to my tiny son's head to brush away the whispy hairs. I watched as he watched the children run around the room longingly. I listened as he described how his cat would curl up on his hospital bed to keep him company in his tiny, stifling bedroom. 15 years of being able to feel pain but not being able to feel his legs. 15 years of a constant morphine drip that didn't dull anything but the senses.

Perhaps, I am jaded, but not because of the law. Because for 15 years I witnessed a struggle I would not wish on my worst enemy - ok, well, maybe my worst - or Hillary Clinton . . .

Next week, God willing, I'll say goodbye to a man who I have both pitied and admired. Next week, God willing. He'll say goodbye to the body-sack he has lived in for over 20 years.

I wonder, does it make me a bad person to want this for him?