Tag Archives: Death

Our Kind of Pillow Talk

7 Jun

T and I have something special when it comes to communication. Our ability to converse spans over many subjects and nothing is off-limits. I find him to be the most stimulating conversationalist but for the sake of our marriage and happiness we avoid political debates, well, before bedtime at least.

Last night we watched an episode of House. At the end Wilson is getting a brain scan to determine if his tumor is operable. Of course there was a cliff hanger and we’ll find out tonight if Wilson is toast, but that ending stuck with me.

Subsequently, our pillow talk went a bit twisted. Instead of talking about the usual, like, current world issues, Dungeons and Dragons, T’s work, B’s future, our dreams and goals, how much I miss the energy drink Whoopass, what kind of superhero we would be…it drifted to Death with Dignity.

T and I have discussed our stance on Death with Dignity and although we both support that choice, we never took it deeper than that. Well, boy did we go deeper. Like 6 feet under.

I asked T if he would kill me if I was terminally ill, suffering immensely and unable to exercise Death with Dignity. Without hesitation, and kind of excitedly, he replied, “Oh yes!”

I have such a devoted husband.

It went further.

T-  “Heck, I’d decapitate you on the steps of Parliament!”

T- “Well I mean, if I wasn’t taking care of B. I wouldn’t risk going to prison if B was still in our care.”

Was that statement about B suppose to make this uneasy feeling dissipate?

Me- “Babe, that’s nice and all but I’d like to just OD on a lot of great pain killers. Ya know, without the bloody mess, TV crews and your imprisonment? Do you not remember what Death with Dignity is?”

He knew what it entailed. Apparently his willingness to decapitate me in public was supposed to prove to me the lengths he would go to ensure I suffered no longer. But it kind of  just creeped me out.

The conversation progressed after I turned out the lights.

T- “If you could choose a way to die, not by pills or decapitation (who chooses decapitation? Is that even on the table of chosen ways to die?) what would you choose?”

Me- “If I can’t have pills, I choose sudden impact.”

T- “So I would just wheel you off a cliff?”

Me- “What, wheel me?”

T- “Well, you’d free fall and just SMACK against the ground, dead. That’s a pretty good one hun.”

Me- “I wouldn’t need pushing, I’m not afraid to die. (Why does he want to be such an active part of my death?) What about jumping out of a plane together, except I don’t pull my parachute?”

T- “Well you could do that. I couldn’t go with you.” (T is afraid of heights)

I start laughing.

Me- “If you did want to kill yourself that way. I bet I would meet you upon landing and be pissed off that you pulled your parachute.”

This was funny. Probably because we were both tired and the conversation was morbid. But the idea of being upset that he was alive, saying goodbye to him “one last time” as we free-falled together and having to keep paying for jumps out of the plane, only for him to still be living at the end of it all…. It was just funny.

T- “I wonder if someone who was scared of heights had the choice to jump off a cliff or die a slow agonizing death, could commit suicide by jumping?”

We agreed T couldn’t and had another weird laugh about death.

Me- “So how would you want to go?”

T- “I’d like to go quickly.” (From previous conversations I knew his favorite form of capital punishment was death by firing squad, he reminded me though. And just so you know, I would prefer lethal injection. In case that knowledge is some time needed in the future.)

T- “A firing squad would be cool. Or a gun to the head, it’s all the same.”

Me- “Good to know hun, glad we discussed this. I’m getting tired…”

T- “We have the best bed time conversations, don’t we? I sure love you.”

Me- “Love you more.”

I gave him a kiss good night and something fell off his mustache, and onto my lip. It was salty, and small, and round. Yes, a booger.I had a mini freak out he just laughed. I got over it.

 

*I try to sleep. Several minutes pass and I just can’t help myself.*

Me- “Decapitate me on the steps of Parliament?!? I’m going to dream of you killing me.”

T- In his sweetest, nearly asleep voice, “Only because I love you so much.”

 

 

QUESTION PERIOD: What’s the strangest bedtime conversation topic you’ve enjoyed or endured? I’d love to hear about it!

 

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Help me, Help her.

25 May

I’ve been feeling a sense of urgency to write but honestly I have absolutely no idea as to how I should approach this cry for help. Every time I sit down to write I feel overwhelmed with emotions. So many memories race through my mind and all sorts of ways to reach out to you come into my head. I’ve been getting so wrapped up in the words I should use that I’ve actually delayed this post. And this post needs to get out there, like a week ago. I’ve decided to stop thinking and to start typing. This may not be my prettiest or my most cleverly worded post but it is the most heartfelt and sincere.

Here is a little back story before I get to the point of this whole post.

I attended MDA (Muscular Dystrophy Association) Camp through my teen years and had the opportunity to form amazing friendships which are actually more like a family unit. To break it down further, we’re pretty much an underground organization of super heroes, but I am bound by oath to not elaborate. These friends were (and are) a source of community as I struggled through all the crap MD brought me as a child, teen and young adult. They understood my pain, suffering, loss, and every day challenges. They understand the frailty of life, they appreciate each day as if it was their last. Because it could in fact, be their last. They are MY people. And I love them.

Joining this elite group of kids exposed me to many opportunities for growth. We taught each other how to live with pride and how to find happiness in the hand we were dealt. We built each other up throughout the year and looked forward to that one week out of the summer where we came together and didn’t feel handicapped. It was all about us, and having fun. Camp holds a very special place in my heart, as do all the people who attended or volunteered that week.

With all the reward that came with knowing other MD kids it wasn’t apparent to me that this group had a down side. Most MD diagnosis’s come with a life expectancy. At age 15 I was given the number 21. I never put it together that some of my friends, these close friends whom I loved and admired, also had a number placed on them. I was 18 and being healed from the pains of MD when I experienced the heartache and grief that comes with losing a friend. I also felt an extreme amount of guilt. Why was God healing me and not my friends? I felt so guilty that I was pain-free throughout my body, while my friends were getting worse.

The first friend I lost to this disease was a best friend, 7 years ago. Her name is Cassandra and we definitely were a dynamite team. Her wit matched mine, her passion for life was like nothing I had witnessed before and seriously, nothing phased her. She knew her limits and plowed through them whenever possible, she loved adventure just like me. Her and I connected from the day we met, which was my first day ever at MDA Camp. We were bunk mates through the years and inseparable at camp. We continued our friendship through telephone calls, sleepovers and fundraisers. We were a team to be reckoned with! OK, we actually were just sarcastic trouble makers who enjoyed eating all the free pizza…. but we did raise SOME money. I lost Cassandra in 2005 and not many days pass where I don’t think about her. Where I don’t wish that there was a cure for what she had or that God would have healed her too, that I don’t wish I could have made it to her funeral, that I don’t wish I would have returned her phone call sooner. I was two days too late and kept getting her voice mail for a few weeks. It wasn’t unlike her to not check her voice mail, so I didn’t think twice about it. A close friend had to tell me over the phone of her passing. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t breathe. I feel the same sorrow now as I type this. I miss her. I miss her so much.

Soon after I lost Cassandra, I lost another close friend, affectionately nicknamed “Homie”. Homie and I met on my first day of camp as well. He was a “wanna be thug”, as I always told him. He’d wear his bandana and listen to (far too loud) rap music like he knew what was up. But in reality he was the softest, sweetest, most loveable guy I had ever met. We’d hang out when he was in town and I spent the weekend at his house with his family a time or two. I miss him.

Three years ago I lost another close friend, Matt. He was a jokester. He was fun and slightly mischievous. He also loved, no, was obsessed with trucks and race cars. He asked me to my first “Big Boy Dinner” at camp. Every girl wanted to be on the arm of one of the Big Boys (they were the oldest boys at camp, the dinner was always fun and delicious, and we got to dress up!), it was a pretty big deal for us. Whenever I hear the song “Free Fallin” I think of our first dance together, and every dance after then to the same song. Our song. I miss him.

I shared these very personal experiences of loss with you so you can better understand why I am so passionate about the following person. This post isn’t intended to be about loss, it’s about saving a life.

The life of a friend of mine, the life of Susie.

Susie and I met at camp. Since she is 4 years younger than me and in a different cabin, we didn’t have tons of opportunities to hang out. But when we became cabin mates during my final year at camp, I was blessed with the chance to get to know her better. The thing about Susie that stood out to me was her heart. She is kind, compassionate, loving, tender, caring, sympathetic, and sweet. Susie’s heart is what makes her so special!

Last week Susie informed me and all of our friends that she needs a new heart. But in order to get on the transplant list she needs to come up with a huge sum of money to prove she is a worthy candidate. This down payment so to speak will show that she can afford all the costs that come along with receiving a donor heart. For example; relocating closer to the hospital, follow-up treatments, and medications. Currently she has a pacemaker/defibrillator that is keeping her heart from stopping, but this isn’t good enough for the long-term. She needs a new heart to save her life.

I refuse to do nothing when I can do something. I couldn’t save Cassandra, or Homie or Matt. And I know I can’t save Susie all by myself, I need you. I need the readers of my blog. I need the fellow bloggers who enjoy my ramblings and interact with me on a weekly basis. I need the world-wide-web and the people living in it to use all their Social Media Super Powers to get her story out there! I know we can do this together.

Susie’s page can be found here (updated): http://www.giveforward.com/susieslvad  (This is her most recent site, to help her with the expenses surrounding her LVAD while she await a transplant.)

I’m not going to beg for money, although I’m not above that in the least. Today all I am asking of you is that you please post the link above to your Facebook page and encourage others to do that same. Or Send it in a mass email to your friends/family/coworkers urging them to read it and forward it on to their friends/family/coworkers. Or Twitter it (Tweet it? Idk, I don’t do Twitter)…please get the word out there as best you can. If you feel moved to donate, then do so. I thank you from the bottom, top and all sides of my heart for whatever action you are able to take.

This world needs people like Susie, and I need Susie in this world. I nearly fall to pieces thinking about mourning the loss of another friend. Please. Help me, help her. Let’s get Susie on the transplant list!

Thank you.

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