An odd ball day, alright. I am preparing to drive down to see my elderly shrink when she calls to cancel the appointment saying she must go to the hospital because she just received a call about a friend who had to go to the emergency room. She reassured me she was not the one sick and said she would get back in touch later in the day. But she didn’t.
Then as I am pulling out of the Blockbuster Parking Lot I get a call from Brother Dave who has been contacted by hospital authorities saying that Joan wants to be resuscitated should she “code.” But the doctors want her DoNotResuscitate because resuscitating her, in light of her overall condition, would probably kill her. Talk about your experiential paradox! When being saved is going to kill you, the end has probably come.
So I went through the Tingle family trust for what must be the 1000thnt time looking for language governing the situation. I couldn’t find the material I needed, so I called Joan’s lawyer, and the lawyer’s secretary faxed the language to David and sister-in-law, Teresa. This language appoints Brother David the guardian of Joan’s physical being, and in the document, signed by Joan and signed by the lawyer, she indicated that she did not want to be resuscitated. So Teresa faxed these materials to the hospital authorities. Have not heard about the response to that.
I called the hospital to speak with a doctor or a nurse about Joan’s condition. I was transferred five times, and then the call got dropped. With surprising calm I called again and this time get Joan’s nurse who can’t really tell me anything—I mean who knows what is happening exactly— but says Joan’s condition is the same as the day before. Stable? I ask. You could call it that, somewhat ambiguously she replied.
I spoke with Joan for seconds. I could barely hear what she said. I don’t think she knew who I was, but did know I was a relative. She asked if Dan was walking yet. This indicates she is aware something happened to Dan but really not what. Then she complained at not having received some jello or something like that, something she was supposed to get to eat, but didn’t. Then all was silence; then she started talking again, but about what I couldn’t tell since I believe she was talking with the nurse because the nurse came back on and I said goodbye to her.
Then Joan’s case worker called. I had forgotten I had left a message for her. She seemed like a nice person. I said I wanted her to know that to a man—and we were all men—the Tingle brothers do not favor having Joan resuscitated especially if it would kill her. I said I wanted her to know that, and she asked had I let the doctors know, and I said I had said it to everyone I had spoken with, and that my sister in law was faxing documents to that effect.
Sort of pisses me off though to think that we must pay 100 day co-pay for the hospital room AND a hundred and fifty a day to reserve Joan’s room at the place where she was before the hospital should she recover. Damn I never thought it would cost so much just for a person to take up space. And empty space at that.
