post #3. RIP doctor death

There's so much to talk about right now, I had such a hard time trying to settle on one topic. I guess I could make a jumbled post, but I'm far too obsessive compulsive for that. At least at this point in the game. Anyway, we've got another e. coli scare, children falling out of the sky, my feelings on prom, television shows about gypsies, and unstoppable storms. I choose death. Dr. Jack Kevorkian passed away on Friday at the age of 83 (no, I didn't just copy that from a newspaper article). (But, like, really, I didn't.) Kevorkian was a favorite of grandmother willow's. Whenever someone...actually, I have no idea what context she used to use the phrase in, but one could often hear her blurt out, "Call Kevorkian!" For those of you unfamiliar with the name, Jack Kevorkian was a pathologist who performed assisted suicides. He did it in a pretty shady manner - out of the back of a rusty van with flea market-purchased equipment - but he put people out of their misery at their wish and he didn't try to hide his actions. Instead, he stood up for his belief that people should be allowed to make the choice to essentially be put to sleep, calling access to physician assisted suicide a human right. My grandmother's words inspired a research paper on euthanasia a few years back and I won't bore you with the particulars, but I whole-heartedly agree with Dr. Kevorkian (sans rusty van, although I guess you're not worried about tetanus if you're asking someone to kill you...) Apparently I'm with the minority on this one, though. Dr. Kevorkian spent eight years in prison for assisting the suicide of over a hundred people. His efforts resulted in the legalization of doctor-assisted suicides in only three states. Maybe it's my youth (and of course subsequent feelings of invincibility), but I can't imagine ever wanting to spend my time in a vegetative state, sucking up resources that could be used to save someone else's life. If I'm comatose and looking like I'm not getting up any time soon, why not make my state permanent? Those people who wake up from decade-long comas, they're the exception, not the rule. And they probably just wake up to ask what the hell is taking so long and to end it already. Oh, but they can't talk, let alone move, to let you know they don't want to go on like that. Someone might call me selfish, but I think it's selfish of a family (or whoever) to keep someone alive because they can't let go. So maybe that's referring more to pulling the plug than euthanasia, but it's the same idea in my book. If you know you're ready to go, why shouldn't you be able to find someone to help you out? You can settle your affairs, say your goodbyes, and spare your mother from opening the garage to find you hanging from the ceiling by the necktie she gave you last Christmas. Crass? Perhaps, but I'm just trying to get my point across. I have no desire to go through chemotherapy at the age of 65, to treat multiple infections I've caught when I'm so old (or not so old even) I can't walk anymore because my bones have turned to sand, to cope with the pain of an autoimmune disorder when I have no children or parents to look after. But I guess if that's the way my future plays out, I'll have to move myself to Seattle and get the job done. I just hope Frasier will be there to talk me through everything.

Hope I haven't rubbed anyone the wrong way. Over and out.
<3 ereese.