We spent the morning saying goodbye. The pain from my eye was unbearable. It started Friday morning and continued through the examination by the physician. He put a soft contact lens over the cornea to keep it from leaking and help it heal. The prognosis was not good.
It was time.
Saturday morning I took a quarter tab and we held each other....crying; there seemed no way to ease it. Finally work had to be done...there were cats in need. She took me to Phoebe.
Phoebe - A moon of Saturn
We stood in the street and hugged one last time. As tears ran down our faces, she said, "See yuh later." and soon drove off.
The acid enabled me to focus. I was clear on my decision....or so I thought.
I spent an hour or so delving for unresolved issues. I found only minor anxiety at the unknown and the terrible pain of "leaving."
I opened the tank valve and put on the mask. I then opened the secondary valve on the line. The force of the gas blew my cheeks out and I couldn't breath. I removed the mask and moved the control valve to lower the pressure. This was my mistake. I should have shut off the gas and adjusted the regulator.
With the mask close to my face the escaping gas caused me to lose consciousness. The mask then must have fallen away but close enough to have an effect. The blood drained from my face; my skin turned grey and mottled and my lips went purple...near death....but not quite.
At some point I regained consciousness. The lucidity, considering, was surprising. I attributed it to the LSD. But I also blame the drug for my failure. It impaired my ability to shut down the process and adjust the regulator...or was there a subconscious resistance?
I looked down and saw the line-valve was wide open! I was sure I'd moved it to lower the pressure. Post event conjecture leads me to think I intended to move the valve but lost consciousness before I actually did.
The tank was empty. And no backup plan.
I lay back and enjoyed the irony of regaining consciousness unharmed. It crept onto my face. I was disappointed at my lack of preparedness.
Photo by Michelle Cook
Michelle's relief was terrible to see.
Monday we watched an interview with Katie Engelhart, author of The Inevitable: Dispatches on the Right to Die. Engelhart pointed out how every other country that has physician-assisted dying also has free health care. Whereas in this country they're slooooowly legalizing physician-assisted dying, but not free health care. The inference is obvious: Once they're dead they won't NEED health care; it's cheaper to help them die.
Below is the blurb that accompanied the invitation from Greenlight Bookstore...
'Reporter Katie Engelhart presents her new book The Inevitable, a riveting, incisive, and wide-ranging book about the Right to Die movement, and the doctors, patients, and activists at the heart of this increasingly urgent issue. Engelhart focuses on six people representing different aspects of the debate. Spanning North America, Europe, and Australia, The Inevitable offers a deeply reported and fearless look at a morally tangled subject. It introduces readers to ordinary people who are fighting to find dignity and authenticity in the final hours of their lives. Larissa MacFarquhar, author of Strangers Drowning, joins Engelhart in conversation at this virtual book talk.'
I'll get the tank refilled and reset the regulator.
I'm sorry for all of the pain you are growing through, Michael.
ReplyDeleteThanks John, pain is certainly a motivator. But it provides entitlement to pick some bones with the U.S. powers-that-be.
DeleteI also think of your family’s circumstances and am concerned about how things will play out for Justin.
A few days ago when Michelle and I went to the library, I stopped to talk with Winona. Winona believes she’s named after the daughter of Sacagawea and Meriweather Lewis. She’s a lovely, maybe 5-foot tall, blue-eyed woman about my age. She has her belongings in a wire frame, two-wheeled cart and several bags she carries on her arms. When I asked how she was doing, she told how the nearby church -- whose back lot she’d been sleeping on -- had told her she was no longer welcome. I gave her $10.00, all I could afford, and wished her well; she has a beautiful smile. She seems in reasonable health, but it brings tears to think of *her* struggles.
I feel fortunate to have the resources to formulate options. And most especially, I'm grateful for the love I share with several women. I actually consider myself one of the luckiest men on the planet!
Justin is doing well at the moment. Thanks for thinking of him. Looks like he'll make it through another semester (with some back-up help from home). His latest news was that he is getting a dragon tattoo on his back. It's a rough road for him, and the people who support him. But he does have resources, which is more than many people have.
ReplyDeleteIn my recent post I suggested you have the surgery the hospital said was needed immediately. Your response was that you could not afford it. Hospitals have some legal obligation to treat patients who show up at the ER, especially if they are at risk of dying immediately, regardless of financial concerns.
ReplyDeleteYou do have a plan. The other day as I wandered through the handful of blogs that I follow and enjoy because their owner/authors avoid Facebook (the ultimate blog killer) there was a notice that your blog was open only to those invited. A bit of internet sleuthing turned up a snippet of the blog from which I was banned..."...we spent the morning saying goodbye...the pain was unbearable..." and with that I thought "Who will take care of Phoebe now that he's gone."
I've taken a few week break from writing on Facebook because it all bores me, even my own words there, and generally I've been in a bit of a funk due to life, aging, money, etc., and I though about your apparent departure. Over the past decade as blogs have faded I've watched their authors also fade physically and mentally...early adopters, early departures, I guess. Facebook attracted me because I felt I would share drafts and get worthwhile feedback but of course there is rarely any feedback because people cannot write, apparently. So I wrote a small piece talking about Facebook as the blogger killer, people I've followed, enjoyed and once in a while contributed comments, people living in old Airstreams in FL, trappers in the middle of nowhere, Yukon, teachers above the Arctic circle struggling with their communities addictions, etc., and of course, the retired arts administrator living in a car named Phoebe in the New Mexico desert, who now has 'left the house' or more correctly 'left the desert.' There was short mention of your heart attack and less than graphic descriptions of your stupid fucking, leaking eye but I most certainly offered some quiet respect for your choice of departure. I wished you well and hoped that whatever is out there, something or nothing, brings peace. Of course now I'm offering comment to someone 'on the ledge' but most certainly in a transition and path of choice. Peace.
Art! You Sly Devil!
DeleteBless your heart!! You're the validation of my sense that there're a *few* out there who get it.
The day after the infarction I went to St. Mary's (Catholic hosp) E.R. in Tucson. The EKG indicated it was still happening. The total, before insurance, was well over $100,000.00 and 8 months later I was still getting new bills from different doctors and other "associated" providers. I pled my case citing VISA debt of $12,000.00 from Phoebe's engine and transmission rebuild (10k) and a number of sessions (very productive) with a therapist but my pleas went unheeded. I negotiated a small monthly payment but there were several providers so along with VISA it takes a sizeable chunk. I filed bankruptcy some years ago and don't want to endure that again. Thus, maintaining good credit is a priority.
Phoebe is willed to a young pharmacist who's been raising his daughter by himself and ever since she was in diapers taking her camping with him. Now 8, she enjoys it as much as he and they'll use her to go the places you can only get to with 4wd.
The "story" is too personal for the blog. And since my blog is what the acronym is: a web log, it'll remain what I've always meant it to be: a bolster for my selective memory...or lack thereof.
I'd really like to read the piece about Facebook being a blog-killer. As enticement, I'll dangle a carrot of exchange of more details. It's a complex weaving about aging, the existentialist dilemma, suicides and late-in-life love affairs; high Dramuh (short A) of the finest kind, but not stuff I'm willing to put out to the world-at-large.
I often chuckle for days afterward at your comments. I hope you'll take the bait: mfhalb@gmail.com
This is precisely why I won't attempt this in any fashion. I know I would botch it and end up a vegetable and someone would be having to wipe my ass for the rest of my days. At that point quality of life would be at a negative 10. It's just not a smart idea. If it was foolproof, that'd be great, but it's not. Nothing really is.
ReplyDeleteThere's a reason why you're still here I believe. Maybe it's just to help others. I'm sorry to say that I'm glad you're still with us. At the same time, if you achieve your goal and leave us, I understand that and respect it.
What is the method here used?
ReplyDeleteA tank of pure nitrogen obtained from a welding supply place with a regulator obtained from online. The regulator came set for a much higher volume of discharge than the recommended setting of 15 psi. I changed the setting but neglected to double check it before using it.
Delete