A very elderly man from our church, a man in his nineties, died earlier this week in the hospital after at least three weeks in intensive care. Not only was he sick, he had dementia. One week before he died, he went into cardiac arrest. The cart-team descended and brought him back, so he could live another week in a semi-comatose state, and finally die this week of pneumonia, the old person's friend. One more week of suffering in the cardiac-intensive care unit of a for-profit hospital. He had no insurance but Medicare. That must have been enough.
Note to kin: I do have a place to go when I die - the body to a med school and the spirit for awhile asleep in the Lord (such sweet sleep) until he comes back, and I have a new body. If I should suffer from dementia, the only treatment I want is from the poppy. No feeding-tubes, no antibiotics, a little comfort care, and an audio book or Bach playing nearby. Plus now and then a visit from my peeps.
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