"I asked myself about the present: how wide it was, how deep it was, how much was mine to keep."
- Kurt Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse-Five
Showing posts with label dominique mainon. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dominique mainon. Show all posts
Sunday, October 30, 2011
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
HOSPICE - a brand new reality show starring ME!
I can't take it anymore. I want to talk about DEATH and SUFFERING. I need to.
No sugar-coating. No censorship.
There is so much bullshit one has to go through once reaching that end-game state as it is. When the "authorities" dole out your medical death sentence, an entire process takes place which begins with a massive amount of paperwork and bureaucracy that seems never-ending. Perhaps it is a blessing of sorts, to bury the initial emotions and just focus on the business portion of a terminal cancer diagnosis. However, I am now entering the emotional landscape of this condition, which is a wicked and thorny territory.
I need an outlet. It's becoming rather awkward, to upload a status update on Facebook or Twitter about how I'm pissed off at a social worker for over-pressuring me about my burial plans, or how it feels to sign another "DO NOT RESUSCITATE" form. My morbid life updates end up mixed in with newsfeeds from others showing their latest trip to Vegas, teenagers lamenting how their life sucks, an ex-boyfriend kissing his perfect new girlfriend, friends going on an exciting archeological dig, wine tasting and jazz concert coming up, a writer's convention, a picture of what someone ate for lunch, a family member posing with champagne on a yacht in the Bahamas with a group of bikini-clad friends, a group of drunk people at an Irish pub with funny hats on....Everyone so blissfully ignorant of how lucky they are, and so blissfully ambulatory.
Funny to think, but I don't think I ever really used the word "ambulatory" before this year. Now I see the word everywhere. Anyway, the point is that I need an outlet where I can express my current reality and dig deep. This is truly the ultimate reality show. It has all the right traits - you don't want to watch it but like any train wreck, you can't look away. There is a cast of kooky characters that you will meet, and there is a competition within the theme - staying ALIVE. (We would have used the title "Survivor", but it was taken).
I will soon relay all the dirty details that led up to this high water point of disease and disability, and reveal some of the most intimate details of how I have dealt with losing use of most of my body and how I cope with the daily knowledge that I am on hospice care for a reason--I'm not expected to live for much longer. And you never know, maybe there will be some type of corny enlightenment moment like in the movies, or I'll suddenly meet my soulmate. But don't get your hopes up. Everyone, please just keep your hands and feet inside the vehicle and we will take off shortly....
No sugar-coating. No censorship.
There is so much bullshit one has to go through once reaching that end-game state as it is. When the "authorities" dole out your medical death sentence, an entire process takes place which begins with a massive amount of paperwork and bureaucracy that seems never-ending. Perhaps it is a blessing of sorts, to bury the initial emotions and just focus on the business portion of a terminal cancer diagnosis. However, I am now entering the emotional landscape of this condition, which is a wicked and thorny territory.
I need an outlet. It's becoming rather awkward, to upload a status update on Facebook or Twitter about how I'm pissed off at a social worker for over-pressuring me about my burial plans, or how it feels to sign another "DO NOT RESUSCITATE" form. My morbid life updates end up mixed in with newsfeeds from others showing their latest trip to Vegas, teenagers lamenting how their life sucks, an ex-boyfriend kissing his perfect new girlfriend, friends going on an exciting archeological dig, wine tasting and jazz concert coming up, a writer's convention, a picture of what someone ate for lunch, a family member posing with champagne on a yacht in the Bahamas with a group of bikini-clad friends, a group of drunk people at an Irish pub with funny hats on....Everyone so blissfully ignorant of how lucky they are, and so blissfully ambulatory.
Funny to think, but I don't think I ever really used the word "ambulatory" before this year. Now I see the word everywhere. Anyway, the point is that I need an outlet where I can express my current reality and dig deep. This is truly the ultimate reality show. It has all the right traits - you don't want to watch it but like any train wreck, you can't look away. There is a cast of kooky characters that you will meet, and there is a competition within the theme - staying ALIVE. (We would have used the title "Survivor", but it was taken).
I will soon relay all the dirty details that led up to this high water point of disease and disability, and reveal some of the most intimate details of how I have dealt with losing use of most of my body and how I cope with the daily knowledge that I am on hospice care for a reason--I'm not expected to live for much longer. And you never know, maybe there will be some type of corny enlightenment moment like in the movies, or I'll suddenly meet my soulmate. But don't get your hopes up. Everyone, please just keep your hands and feet inside the vehicle and we will take off shortly....
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