My Tantrum with God

It was during my week of online silence. Emotions were high already. I chose to read a long article about death and dying that a friend had posted on facebook. Story after story of dying and dying... and eventually death.

Without a miracle from God, this is my reality.

But God, why me? For what reason have you chosen this path for me? How is this even possible? I had checked. I went to the doctor. I had so much help with breastfeeding. I had imaging. I did all I could. How dare you God! 

I literally had my fists clenched and was shaking them at him.

And the article continued. More dying. More death. More decisions to make about how to die.

We're all going to have to make them or they will be made for us. And if our wishes haven't been discussed, your family will be making decisions that might not be in accordance with your desires.

If your situation is treatable, you have lots of options. Believe me, I've treated patients who were in dire situations and have later returned completely healthy. It's amazing to see.

You still have all of those options if your situation isn't as positive. And this is where the situation can get messier. Do you want CPR, medications for your heart, an IV, to be tube fed, etc.? If your brain is "dead" but your body is "alive" how do you want to "live?" If you know that you're decompensating and death is coming, where would you prefer to die... the hospital, a hospice, home, somewhere else? Do you want just pain and comfort medications? Do you want family or friends there? The list goes on and on.

And as I read the article that talked on and on about dying and death, I started to panic. It was too much for me. My breathing rate increased and I lost control. I was alone in bed having a panic attack.

Get help, I gasped.

I texted Xhevat. It didn't work. Repeat. It didn't work. I hate my phone & service provider!

"How dare you God!" I cried out. I'm even asking for help and it's not working.

Then came anger toward God and calling Xhevat on his phone... but my calls would not go through. Couldn't he hear me crying?

My breath was ragged, my emotions were on edge, my body was rigid, my voice was hoarse and I was not in control. I tried to surrender but couldn't. 

Eventually Xhevat heard me. He had fallen asleep in our son's room right next door. He came into our room in a panic hearing my cries and brought me comfort (and meds). He helped calm my soul.

For the first few minutes I couldn't talk about the article. I just kept on repeating "I'm dying, I'm dying, I don't want to die." And as my thoughts became clearer, my preferences around my dying and death became clearer and I could actually say the words out loud.

Xhevat heard my wishes. My fight was over.

I don't know when or how death will come for me. More than likely, it will come. My family will be going through enough at that time that I can clarify a few of my wishes around dying, death & my funeral. You can do the same. 

Figure it out. You don't have to have a terminal illness or be "old" to talk through some of these decisions. If you remain silent, it doesn't mean it will or won't happen. It means that someone else might have to make the decision for you.

A nurse at work was performing CPR and cracking her patient's ribs as she tried in futility to save her patient's broken heart. This colleague still weeps that she was inflicting pain as the last person who was seen by this patient.

You can choose.

http://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2010/08/02/letting-go-2

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