Waiting for the Woe

I know this feeling. When nothing else has any meaning except for what is uppermost in my mind. Right now, the only thing that matters is what’s going to happen in the next few minutes when the doctor walks through that door.

We’ve all, at one time or another contemplated our own death. But sitting in this sparse gray room with nothing to look at besides posters of the digestive tract, no doubt provided by drug companies as perks for doctor’s offices, I await a verdict that’s literally life or death.

I’ve done nothing to prepare for good news. Why should I? I’m not one these people who will have some epiphany about making the most out of every day. I had no desire to climb Macchu Pichu before, so why would I do it now? No, any good news will send me home to continue to take whatever small life pleasures I can without risking my life. And then just wait for the next medical crisis that is sure to rain down on me to be followed by the extraction of bodily fluids and more tests to see if I dodged another bullet. Provided I dodge this one.

It’s more important that I prepare for the bad news. That will require me to be more proactive. Is my will up to date? My health care directives? Does my health care proxy have it in writing what I want to happen to me should I not be able to make decisions? When do I start giving away my stuff? Who do I donate what to?

Got to remember to clear my browsing history. Whoever gets my computer doesn’t need to see the porn sites I visited. Maybe I just toss the computer. There’s so much work to prepare for dying. It occurs to me that if I drop dead here and now, I won’t have to worry about any of this. But that’s not going to happen. Mine will be a gradual deterioration, which I can only hope will be accompanied by significant pain medication, with people looking at me with sad eyes-fewer and fewer as I get closer to death-until the few people who are at my bedside give me “permission” to let go.

Regrets? What’s the point? If I really wanted to do something, I would have done it. Anything I didn’t do was by virtue of fear or laziness and I need town both of those. What do I leave behind? Not much. No children. My siblings are scattered around the country and truth be told we’re not very close. I suspect my friends will have a memorial service for me where I’ll be presented in a positive light, because that’s what social protocol demands. Not that it will be tough to say nice things about me-I’m a nice guy. I know that. But what importance did my life have? There won’t be any Times obit giving me credit for some significant achievement. There will just be a bunch of people saying some generally nice things. Nobody’s life will be altered by my not being around. In some ways that’s very sad. But I’ve been to numerous memorial services where you would leave there thinking, how can any of these people go on after the person they just eulogized has passed on? But the reality is, that everyone went to work the next day, did their laundry, paid their bills, and continued their lives. That’s just what happens. Asi es la vida. Such is life.

Death is monumentally inconvenient to the survivors, not so much for the deceased. A few poor souls will have to go through my stuff, disperse it, clean out my apartment, meet with my lawyer. At least some of them will reap some financial benefit. Luckily, I don’t have enough that people will fight over my assets.

I guess I’m going to have to tell people-family, friends, co-workers. Who do I tell? What do I tell them? Who do I tell first? Do I put this on Facebook? Even I know that’s grotesque. But I’ll have to go through the same story over and over. That’s so tedious. If I’m dying, I shouldn’t have to put myself through this. And then I’ll have to listen to everyone asking me If I tried everything, if I tried some plant grown on the jungles of Bolivia. And then the well-meaning but ultimately meaningless offers of help, which means I have to call and ask for help. Anyone who knows me knows that that’s not going to happen.

I’m going to need to make a list. I need to write this down.

 Death to Do List

1)    Make a list of all my possessions and assets (not in the will)

           a) Decide who gets what

2)    Make sure the necessary documents are updated

           a) Will

           b) Advanced Directives

           c) Health Care Proxy

3)    Pick someone to clean out apartment and disburse physical assets

4)    Pick someone to write an obituary. But I want to see it. Oh what the hell I’ll just do it myself.

5)    Pick someone to oversee my finances when I’m no longer able to manage them. That person has to know which bills they can stop paying and cancel services (e.g. cell phone) and which they need to pay until I’m actually dead like life insurance, and health insurance.

(How am I going to pick these people? That’s another headache)

6)    So, I’ll need to get a Power of Attorney (talk to my lawyer)

7)    Let people know I’ll be dying soon-separate list

   a) Co-workers/former co-workers

   b) Friends

   c) Family

8)                 In what order do I tell them?

9)                How do I tell them – Phone (ugh!) email?

10)                       What do I say?

Oh my God, I’m exhausted just looking at this. If this disease doesn’t kill me, doing everything on this list will finish me for sure. I think I have to give some serious consideration to continue living. I suppose it’s possible that the doctor might not come in with bad news. But if she does, maybe I start to price air fares to Bolivia.

Uh-oh, the door is opening.