Autonomy

At sunrise on the Saturday before Easter, I drove a few miles south to leave on the front porch a birthday surprise for my daughter-in-law and granddaughter (the one who just turned two). In the midst of the COVID-19 pandemic and safer-at-home guidelines, being present to witness the blowing out of the birthday candles is not worth the risk of me bringing the virus into their home. My heart finds joy in photos shared on social media and rests in the assurance that this season of isolation will pass...  On Easter Sunday my daughter and I spoke via Zoom, a new-to-me audio/video conferencing platform. She sent me the invitation entitled Digital Coffee. I clicked on the link and we chatted: me from the corner of the kitchen in Missouri, she from the newly synthesized at-home-office in the corner of an extra bedroom in Wisconsin.

My daughter and daughter-in-law, along with my son and son-in-law are strong, intelligent adults who cared for me in the early years of my widowhood, when to stop breathing was my daily prayer. In this, the fourth year of the widow-journey, my mental and emotional health are stabilizing. I am embracing life and finding joy again. Yet, in this pandemic and with the recent lowering of the at-risk age to those of us over 50, I am mentally addressing life's inevitable end. 

The conversations are difficult. No human wants to imagine the end of life for someone we love. Yet, the protocols for the end of my life are in place. My son is the executor of my will. My daughter is person designated in my healthcare power of attorney. 

On Saturday morning, during our Digital Coffee, God opened a moment for saying the difficult words, reminding my daughter that if I become deathly ill I want no extraordinary measures to prolong my life. 

I am not being an alarmist. I am doing my homework. Early studies are showing that loved ones who are diagnosed with COVID-19 and decline to the point where we are put on ventilators will not likely leave the hospital.

"It's very concerning to see how many patients who require ventilation do not make it out of the hospital," says Dr. Tiffany Osborn, a critical care specialist at Washington University in St. Louis who has been caring for coronavirus patients at Barnes-Jewish Hospital. [more]

One of the tenets of my faith that held me steady at the death of my husband is that life itself is in the hands of our Lord, that the days of our lives are numbered, perhaps from the moment of creation itself.

I am inspired by the lyrics of Light Shine Bright:

I wanna magnify Your light 

I wanna reflect the sun
Cut like precious diamonds
With the colors by the millions
This is the only world we know
And for now this rental's our home
If we gonna be a reflection
Gotta make this third rock glow

This is earth is our rental. Eternal life is on the other side.

Jesus promises: "My Father’s house has many rooms; if that were not so, would I have told you that I am going there to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am." John 14:2-3

My daughter once observed that autonomy is something I highly value. Faith is essential too.

Holding onto His promises.

R

resource: talking about death and dying

photo: me. a brunett in the '70s.