We had a woman come into school today and talk to us about patient advocacy. She has cystic fibrosis, an inherited disease that effects the lungs and digestive tract. She spent countless days in the hospital, had two, yeah, two, bilateral lung transplants, and stared death in the face at least twice. She now works for an organization that talks to health care professionals about the patient experience, patient approach, advance care directives, and organ donation.
As she was speaking about the ideals of nurses and nursing I felt my heart swell up and lump up in my throat. I am exactly where i want to be, doing exactly what I want to be doing. Its nice to feel that way.
And another thought: I love talking about death and dying. I can talk about it all day. Talk to me about how you want to die, how you watched someone else die, what you are afraid of in dying. Tell me where you think we go when we die, if anywhere at all. Tell me what you want done with your body, and how your family will react. Tell me how you reacted when someone close to you died. I want to hear it, really really I do. I am sure a part of that passion is simply my experience in hospice. I am looking forward to being as interested in other nursing stuff as I become more educated in it.
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Well, I'd like to die in some sort of fiery explosion that doesn't involve expensive burial or cremation. Something that folks will remember for a while - but not in the cemetary sort of way. You know, like 10 years later being able to say - boy, he sure did go out with a bang, didn't he? Or - I didn't know that was possible!
ReplyDeleteBut if I don't go out with a bang, I can't say I particularly care what's done with my body. Without life, it's just organic matter. Burn it, bury it, whatever - I just hope that money isn't spent on it.