Skip to main content

Sign Your Life Away

I don't know what can be more volatile than dealing with a Power of Attorney; durable, general, or limited. It feels as if I'm signing away my rights, as well as my power; to sell my car, to sell my portion of property, to even have a say in how I am treated prior to and after my death.   My husband and I are wrestling with that question now. He asks, "What's the big deal? It's so simple."  While my brain screams, "How can you not get this?  And how can you be so callous?!"

ALS is robbing me of physical control. This feels like my last bastion of control and the "what ifs" abound.    What if you decide you don't love me anymore? What if you get sick of all this stuff and leave? What if you fall in love again and I'm still alive and physically incapacitated?   What if two years down the road, (I am unable to have sex or you're not inclined to have sex with me), and you have a dalliance with either a caregiver or a stranger? What is my recourse?

This issue was dropped on my doorstep today, upon my return from water aerobics class. My husband had gone to sell my car and sign over title when he learned that he needed my signature. (I had already told him this.)  He whipped the issue up, stating that he'd need my power of attorney to sell the car and when he was ready to sell pieces of property and eventually when he'd have to make end of life decisions for me. Suddenly, he is all "Gung Ho" to hire an attorney at $180 per hour, to draw up these critical documents on our behalf.  Yeah, this is the same guy who balks at spending $40.00 on our marriage counselor.


Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

I Remember...

I remember catching fireflies,  putting them in a jar, as a girl of five. I picked pears off a tree that overhung an alleyway on my route home from school, then enjoyed the forbidden fruit. .I had a golden cat who chased a gray mouse through our living room sending my mother, 3-year old sister, and me screaming atop the sofa and chairs. We lived in a farmhouse and I watched Romper Room. A daddy longlegs skittered across my dirty kid legs as I teeter-tottered on a broken kitchen chair back. I played grocery store and laid out a bedroll for group nap time in preschool. We lived in an apartment attached to a bakery. My maternal grandparents visited and a photo was snapped. Grandma held Dawn and Grandpa held me. I held Grandpa's chin. Walking through the back of the flour-caked kitchen, I saw scrumptious pastries and colorful toys stuck in the cupcakes with my hungry kids eyes. We lived in a two-story apartment building next door to a large farmer's field.  That field was my...
3 comments
Read more

You're Not You...Me, Too!

1 Wow! Spot on...In so many ways.  Granted I wasn't in the the same socio-economic circumstance, and neither do I play piano but I was passionate about knitting and I lost the ability to engage in my passion practically from the onset of the ALS. Symptoms first manifested in my right hand as well. I was big on juicing, supplements, and did not worry about fats nor calories. But ALS advanced relentlessly. I hired friends as caregivers and had to bear the humiliation of being toileted by them.One of the worst hurdles for me was allowing a long time male friend wipe me following a toilet. My mother, stepfather, and sister all toileted me as well. Of course, my husband had to attend to all of my most delicate needs, showering, dressing and make-up application. I could really relate to Hillary Swank's character, Kate, in all circumstances except, she chose not to use the bipap (breathing apparatus).  I don't really get why somebody would opt out of a non-invasive solution to...
3 comments
Read more

Kate

I think about my friend, Kate Struby, who died from this horrible disease in 2013. She lived here at Bailey Boushay House before I did. I reached out to Kate online through FaceBook because I loved her photograph with her head thrown back in laughter. I also loved her posts. I guess I just loved her spirit. I got to finally meet her one month before she died. I happened to be at the University of Washington Medical Center for my quarterly appointment when I saw her FaceBook post. She was awake and in the medical ICU. She was a mere few floors down. I would not be stopped. Relativeor no, I would meet my FaceBook friend. Thank God I did. I rolled into the room to find a beautiful, ethere.al woman flanked by two friends. Although it was an impromtu visit, she said she knew me immediately.I was in awe of her with her fiery spirit despite the ravages of our shared disease. She, unable to lift even a finger, lifted my spirit.
2 comments
Read more