you now what, disregard that you said in another post, we each choose our own objective, was that you? idk either way, it happened what was, was, what will be is the mystery, drop it please
I believe it was in Middle School, thereabouts. Not sure if i'm answering the question right, but i'm cool with it and i'm ready whenever. I'm not afraid of death, just how I die. I think i'll have them burned. Then they can be spread somewhere.
1. As far back as I can remember. Roughly age 3-4. 2. It doesn't really make me feel anything. 3. It doesn't matter to me.
1. I don't know exactly but I was young, probably when someone I knew died and I learnt it happens to us all, nothing you can do to stop it. 2. I don't feel anything on the subject, can't do anything about it, it comes when it comes. 3.Popped your clogs, bought the farm, berift of life, resting in peace, no more, deceased, gone to meet it's maker, this is an ex-parrot....Sorry, got a bit caught up in the moment. I want to be buried, somewhere nice, no idea why, I won't be able to see it and most of my organs will be gone - but I think perhaps I don't like the potential prospect of becoming a chocolate milkshake drunk by a small boy. Of course if they perfect cloning and downloading consciousness I would expect to be reborn.
I'm not sure. When I was a kid and was forced by my parents to live in Arizona (in the 1950s it was nothing like it is today and even today the weather is unbearable) I clearly remember thinking that life sucks, but I never thought about an alternative. But for sure no later than age 22 when I dumped a motorcycle on the freeway and was amazed that all I got was a broken clavicle, no tire tracks across my head. At this present moment I'm almost 68 so it's something I have to think about. Everything from having an updated will and keeping my life insurance paid up, to leaving several bowls of water out for my dogs so they will not die of thirst waiting for my housemate to come downstairs to do laundry and finding my body on the floor. I'm also doing an amazingly good job of accomplishing things that have eluded me so far. Tonight I even get to understudy for the bassist in the best dance band in three counties, after playing in original-music bands all my life (and before that a guitar-pickin' folksinger) and never having the wonderful experience of people dancing to my music. There are many detailed decisions to make. I stopped getting a PSA screening a couple of years ago. If I show up with prostate cancer today, the odds are that I'll die of something else first (because it grows very slowly) and I'd just as soon not know about it. My wife and I are still wrangling about our will(s). Obviously if one dies first the other gets control of all the assets and will have to make the decision alone. But if we're both in a car crash or a 300-foot redwood tree lands on our roof (most likely at the hands of an incompetent lumberjack on the timber tract next door), who gets our assets--with no children or other obvious heirs? We favor different charities. How about some of my down-and-out friends whom she has never met since I've been working on the other coast? Most importantly, again, the ten dogs and six birds (at last count): we have to bequeathe them to a local animal rescue organization, with enough of a monetary endowment to not only pay for their lifetime care but to simply make it an attractive option for the shelter. How about our teddy bear collection? It used to be a popular hobby but now it might be difficult to find someone who is willing to take them and try to sell them, much less regard them as collectibles. My classic Ventures signature-model Mos-Rite bass guitar? The list is long. I like what the Klingons told Captain Picard when two of their renegade assassins were killed on the Enterprise and he asked what to do with their bodies: "Those are empty shells. Dispose of them." Both of us vote for cremation, just as my parents did. Her mother is still alive at 94 and I have no idea what she would prefer; ain't nobody gonna ask her at this point. When my mother died and we were sorting out her possessions, we found her driver's license (long expired, to the relief of the entire population of California) in her wallet. This was back before there was a box to check about organ donation, so there was a form attached to it to check Eyes, Heart, etc. She wrote in longhand at the bottom: "Take anything you want." Probably the wittiest thing she ever said in her whole life, and a nice sentiment. Frankly we're both more worried about what they will do to our bodies while we are still in them. My mother had a DNR order but we were 700 miles away with little control over the nursing home staff, and they kept her alive by artificial means for about a week anyway, continuing to suck up their daily fees. Death with dignity is a big issue for our generation, but also simply death instead of prolonged despair. If I'm in a condition in which I can't simply walk out of the building I'm in and choose my own fate, yet I can no longer Hear music, Eat chocolate, Play with my dogs, Read, or Have a three-digit IQ, the "me" who I used to be and whom everyone knew is gone. I do not wish to be converted into that stupid, joyless stranger and would rather be simply dead. Yes I understand that there's no certain way to know what's going on in somebody's head when they're that far gone. So I will happily sign off on permission for whoever's in charge to make that decision and not be held responsible if his decision was wrong. There is currently no way in the United States to make sure that happens. The entire medical and legal establishment does everything in its power to make sure that we have no control over our own end-of-life issues. There are a few jurisidictions where people with hopeless terminal diseases can receive euthanasia, but the usual busybodies are trying very hard to make it as unavailable as possible, and in any case you have to be a permanent resident of the jurisdiction to be eligible--they don't want assisted-suicide tourists flooding Oregon or Switzerland. Besides, that doesn't happen to many people. Most of us lose our competence in a slow downhill slide so we never quite realize it's time to die, until it's too late to have any control over it. Give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he had had a perfect life that he enjoyed a lot. I have it on the best authority that dieting is the pits. Remember, it's not the years in your life that count, but the life in your years. You can eat vegetables, jog, give up booze, drugs, tobacco and red meat, go to bed early and get up early, and sell your motorcycle. There's no guarantee that it will make your life any longer, but it will sure as hell feel like it.
Right. I brought up in couples' counseling why I nag my wife about her health. She thought I was trying to make her into me. So I reminded her about seeing my grandmother suddenly have a stroke and stop breathing right in front of us, and the fun of watching my mom frantically resuscitate her...Grandma died over the course of three years from microstrokes due to uncontrolled type 2 diabetes, and at the end was bedridden, in pain and begging for death. This was from 60 to 63, BTW. That's why I eat the wacky diet, work out, and nag my wife incessantly. I want to live healthy and go fast when I go.
You may be able to increase your probability of dying quickly and (relatively) painlessly, but you will never increase that probability to 100% or even get close to it. A road accident--one of the most common causes of injury--can destroy your abilities to communicate and to take care of yourself, yet allow you to live for ten or twenty more years in that condition. You'd be at the mercy of people who have no idea what you want, and of a government that insists on keeping your body alive as long as possible regardless of what you want, thereby either dissipating the estate you wanted your children or other heirs to have in order to improve their own lives, or just sucking up tax money. All the while wishing you were dead, having no way to express that wish, and with no one around who could legally grant it anyway.
17, tried twice to kill myself..(obvious fail) figured third time is up to God. I am not afraid to die, i keep asking him to take me out (painless as possible).. if i make it to fifty there are cheap insurance's available..(i really should start one now..but get confused researching them..) and Geoff.. how much we talking about? you can have my body for 2 mil.. but you could pry get it cheaper by offering my daughter the deal after i die..(hell maybe even before..)
I'm aware of that. Besides my Grandmother who spent three years dying at our house, I worked for four unhappy months in a bad nursing home, wiping butts. One of said butts belonged to a guy who was severely brain-damaged in a motorcycle accident-he let his wife wear the helmet. He was learning to dress himself again while I was there, which resulted in random clothing being put on random locations on his body... one time, a t-shirt went on his legs, no pants or underwear and he came out of his room like that...Please Register or Log in to view the hidden image! Poor guy. Oddly enough, the staff and the management that drove me off. The residents I usually handled were alzheimer's people...and tended to do fun stuff like fling poo. And punch. I know how to dodge and block, so I was well-suited. That I could handle, but the fact that I could work as hard and as fast as I possibly could all day long and not do justice to the residents because there was not enough of us, plus getting verbally abused by the other aides...and all that for $7 an hour...and the residents could get injured in the blink of an eye, like giant fragile toddlers. Nursing homes are mostly dreadful places. Reminds me to get DNR tattooed on my chest.
Hence it would be useful to be able to die at will, without external means - simply by controlling one's heart with one's will.
It won't help. An EMT told me that predatory lawyers often convince families to sue caregivers for complying with a DNR order, and every year a few of those suits are won and result in six-figure judgments. But no one has ever been successfully sued for failing to comply with a DNR order, and even if they did it's presumed that the judgment would be of much lesser magnitude. He said that he personally would not comply with one, even though he hates himself for it, because it's just rational risk management in a country with an irrational legal system. There are still people who vilify Dr. Kevorkian, when he should be treated like a hero. Yeah well, that's why they call it the autonomic nervous system. Your forebrain has no control over it.
Don't remember, to be honest, it was probably quite early though, I would be tempted to say before I hit the age of 5 (one of my Grandparents was already dead by this point - killed in a head on with a drunken police officer driving home after a party). Although, I was twenty-something by the time it acquired any true meaning to me, and I was able to empathize with it. A woman who was my mother in law in all but an official status (and who meant a great deal to me) went from being diagnosed with food poisoning to dying of liver cancer in the space of about six weeks, and I seemed to be the only one that could see it coming (watching the plans of those around me get shattered was not easy). I still don't like talking about it, 13 years later. Honestly? I'm not fussed. As long as those that succeed me are cared for and looked after by my legacy, it doesn't bother me. Having said that, I plan on living forever, and so far so good - I would like to see the next visitation of Halleys Comet though. Again, I don't really care. There's a family plot somewhere else in the country that a small memorial for my kids might be nice :shrugs: "I was here, but now I'm gone. I left my name, to turn you on. Those who knew me, knew me well. Those who don't, can go to hell. I do want an Irish wake though, none of those sobbing nonsense. Or if you must cry, give me a tangi (which includes a concept similar to a wake at the end of it). A recitation of the Possibly Proper Death Litany might be appropriate, and I always believed (still do) that my last words will be "Oops" and that should be put on my gravestone (or plaque or whatever). (Oh - and play some Kevin Bloody Wilson at my funeral :3 As well as Pink Floyd: Free, Four.)
