Medical science is great at keeping us alive. Nursing homes are full of people that do no more than take their meds, eat, excrete and sleep. Occasionally they might get a visitor but mostly they shuffle with their walkers in an angry or confused daze concerning their circumstance.
There are exceptions of course in those that can find gratitude in having three square meals, a roof over their heads and others to be around. What I have witnessed mostly though, are people whose medical conditions became more than their families could manage, so they were placed in a “home” when what they really required was a loving place to live in peace and die.
However, we are no longer allowed to die. When my dogs grew so old that they no longer could get up to go to the bathroom, with some dignity, it was viewed as the humane thing to do to “put them to sleep.” There is no such humanity when dealing with human death and every step is taken to keep our hearts beating no matter what our quality of life is.
The staffs at nursing homes are usually a special breed who can remain in an upbeat and loving mode while being surrounded by suffering. Their patient’s huge loss in mobility and customary way of life, on top of a disabling physical condition, is a very sad and disorientating situation. Unfortunately, it is where many of us end up these days.
I cannot say I know the answer to this dilemma. Being a part of the baby boom generation, I see nursing homes continually being built to shelter our parents and our own fading selves. The issue gets raised as a political football with rants about “death panels.” That phrase, more than anything, reflects our inability to have a rational discussion when talking about the care of our aging population and death.
I have been caring for my 83 year-old father at his home. He has had his heart rebuilt, a pace maker installed and his arteries kept open with five stents. He takes a dozen medications but none of them addresses the wound that the death of my mother, six months ago, opened in his will to live. Though all his vitals are better than they have been in many years he remains in a wheelchair too psychologically exhausted to perform the physical therapy to walk again.
My dad regrets not dying first. For 63 years he had never spent more than a week without my mom by his side. Before all of his procedures, doctors had warned him that his heart rhythm had become so irregular that it was possible that he could die in his sleep. He did not have the ability to understand the consequences of living longer than his sweetheart and followed every suggestion offered by the physicians which was then paid for by Medicare.
What is the right choice when being faced with an aging and deteriorating body? We surely have not had the teachings to make mature decisions around issues of death and dying. There is clearly a blessing in that we die. We are only given a finite number of heartbeats to either enjoy or squander, making each one of them precious. Isn’t it true that how we die can say as much about a person as how we live?
Hi,
Your article about human expiration date is just full of shit.
Sorry about my choice of word but it is the worst article I have ever read in my entire life and I will tell you why.
I can understand your logic. Within the context of the current American values about life and what it means to age and grow old, yes, of course, we should have slaughter houses instead of homes to send our aging parents and unwanted family members. Those gas chambers from the 1940’s are really needed now. And instead of just burying people, we should pile them up and burn the motherfuckers. That way we could save on precious land.
However, I will show you why your article is just the reason you should try to change your career as a writer and instead go to South Africa and attempt to swim with the great whites.
It is my conviction, that in this country where we claim we live like kings and queens, growing old is considered a disease. Once one grows old, doctors want us to become addicts and shovel down our throats all the prescriptions we can handle so the big pharmaceutical companies can profit and continue to really suck the blood out of that part of the population.
Our poor livers cannot handle processing so many chemicals, and it starts to break down which contribute to our wreaking bodies, coupled with our lack of exercise, sedentary lives, and whole perception that because we are old we are basically worthless and unimportant, we become like vegetables. Worthless living beans. Waiting on a time where we can just drop dead and die.
What if, instead of perceiving old age and a disease, we take pride and take care of our ageing bodies by eating healthy meals, avoiding drugs and alcohol, doing meditation, keeping our brains and our bodies healthy, unattached, engaged in the community and happy. We would all live healthy and productive lives no matter our age, and the act of writing a worthless piece of crap such as the one you wrote, would instantly make you, a laughing stock.
Good Day.
Hans.