Thursday, February 03, 2005
Death in Style. Well if you don't know a Doctor X who can provide you with the Pink Pill that will allow you to die in dignity when your time has come, then by all means get yourself a job working for a State Rep so that you may at least die in style. Say for instance you are a 96-year-old woman who just recently suffered a stroke. Say your granddaughter's husband is a State Rep. Say you think you were dying but it turns out you aren't and your immediate family thinks you should be in the hospital because your body is 'limp.' Have no fear, your local Rep with many favors owed is near! He calls the mayor's office and orders up a kid's glove tax-payer-paid-for ambulance to pick up 'Nanna.' He orders up a private room at the hospital. God and if the head honcho of said hospital doesn't send flowers to 96-year-old, I don't know you from a hill of beans old woman.
Cowardness at 96. For god sakes the woman is ninety-six. She has had a stroke. She has ended up in some limbo in-between-life-and-death-state. Hospital? Or do you bite the f**** bullet and say thank you I've lived a full, rich, mildly frustrating life and it's time to go i.e. if you're not going to give me the pink pill may I please have a really rather strong triple-shot gin and tonic please?
Cowardness at 96. For god sakes the woman is ninety-six. She has had a stroke. She has ended up in some limbo in-between-life-and-death-state. Hospital? Or do you bite the f**** bullet and say thank you I've lived a full, rich, mildly frustrating life and it's time to go i.e. if you're not going to give me the pink pill may I please have a really rather strong triple-shot gin and tonic please?
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