Sheila's LiveJournal

Each day that I walk through the doors of the hospice where I volunteer and enter the warm, peaceful atmosphere inside, I am angered by the Republican attempt to derail health care reform, preying on the fears of the elderly by lying to them about end-of-life discussions. For one thing, it was never suggested that such discussions be mandatory, only included if a senior wants them. But more aggravating to me is the pernicious idea that such advance discussions are a bad idea, leading to euthanasia of the elderly.

I’ve had an advanced directive on file with my health provider for well over a decade – Kaiser requires you to state what procedures you want or don’t want in order to keep you alive when you go in for surgery. I see nothing wrong with it being MY choice whether I’m hooked up to machines that do my breathing for me, or being endlessly resuscitated only to continue on as a vegetable in a sterile hospital ward, wasting my family’s money and emotionally draining them too.

What I’ve learned in almost five years as a hospice volunteer – where you’re asked to make those decisions upon entry, or have a relative with power-of-attorney make them for you if you’re unable – is that the overwhelming majority of patients are happy the issue is settled. Some come to us from a hospital where “heroic efforts” were made to prolong a life that was obviously terminal. (I don’t blame doctors here; their training and their mission is to save lives.) But at some point, our lives are over and to my mind it’s better to face that fact and make sure the remaining days or months are calm and peaceful – and pain free.

In hospice, a patient gets palliative care; by and large, that means as much or as little painkilling medicine as the patient needs or wants. Some opt for less, dealing with a little pain so they can stay conscious to talk to relatives, achieve reconciliations, settle outstanding matters. It’s their choice! In addition, they and their families get all kinds of support from the staff, nurses, chaplains, social workers, and volunteers who have the time to listen to stories and even take the more ambulatory patients on outings to the park or the mall.

Wells House in Long Beach, where I volunteer, has two resident cats, visiting greyhounds (mine), musicians who play “Oldies” at lunchtime every Thursday, or a DJ who plays Rock and Country outside on the pleasant patio, a Karaoke afternoon, and birthday parties for the residents. And the promise that when the time comes your end will be a peaceful transition – and you won’t be alone.

What’s wrong with that? If the health-care bill will pay for more people to have that discussion ahead of time, then it’s beneficial to my way of thinking.

Unbelievably saddened today by the California Supreme Court's cowardice in not standing up for their initial vote to approve gay marriages. They have tacitly allowed the majority to strip a minority of its rights under the constitution of the state.

At the heart of every religion I've ever studied is one commandment "Love your neighbor." When are we going to obey that Golden rule?

I'm too angry to post more. Tonight I'll take part in a protest rally and learn what the next steps are -- because of course this can't be allowed to stand.

For me, these words exemplify the gulf between the former administration and the present:

"We exercise our leadership best when we are listening, when we recognize that the world is a complicated place and that we are going to have to act in partnership with other countries, when we lead by example, when we show some element of humility and recognize that we may not always have the best answer, but we can always encourage the best answer and support the best answer."

I shed tears of joy when they announced Obama won. And I shed tears of grief when they finally said Proposition 8 had passed. What a day.

I voted at seven am, then went in to the hospice as usual. But yesterday I had to take a young man dying of AIDS to the poll who desperately wanted to vote for Obama and against Proposition 8 -- but he'd failed to re-register when he moved in with us. He's often confused mentally these days, and he started crying when we were trying to sort out what had happened. So I went over to the polling place and talked to the registrar about his predicament, including the real possibility he hadn't been registered at his previous address either. The kind people there said we'd help him fill out a provisional ballot so he could get his wish; if it later turns out that he's wrong about being registered anyway, well, no problem. They'd just throw the vote out. But he'd have the joy of voting one last time.

And that's how it happened. He was so excited he was telling everyone within shouting distance that he'd voted!