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Show 364 She is studying me, perhaps wondering at my request. Perhaps wondering at my state of mind. Perhaps wondering if I am competent to make any decision. "If I'm on lots of drugs and saying stupid things, I want my true wishes to be followed," I am saying. "My true wishes, when I'm not under the influence of any medications." It is an absurd statement. If she knows anything about medication, she will know that I am on "lots of drugs" right now. Enough to kill normal people. I am looking at her firmly in the eye. "And my true wishes are that I want to live. If I stop breathing, I want to be resuscitated. If my hearts stops beating, I want to be resuscitated." She has taken out a paper and pencil and is writing. She is copying my every word, noting my every emphasis. She understands my intent. "I want to live," I am saying and she finishes that phrase and gathers her things together to go type up my living will, to later return for my signature on what will then be a legal document. Watching her leave, I am thinking that, indeed, perhaps I have finally decided: I want to live. |
