Rage, rage against the dying of the light...

I was browsing the internet today, as I usually do around this time, lunch time, and I found a thread on Reddit that made me think. (Happens more than you'd think, it isn't all funny pictures and cats). It made me realize how at 27, I haven't documented my wishes and I have written my living will, even though it's probably time that I do. See, I'm against extraordinary measures to keep me alive. I'd rather just be allowed to pass from this world to the next without being hooked up to machines for a long period of time. Of course, if there is hope that I may survive, then yes, I want doctors to try and save me. But I don't want them to go out of their way to keep me artificially breathing and eating.

So, thanks to Reddit, I not only found this thread and then found this blog post by a Dr. Ken Murray.  They were both interesting reads. Whether you think your animals move on to the your next resting place with you or not, it's interesting to see what people thing. And then, Dr. Murray's blog post about his doctor friends and his wishes for when he is in an end of life situation were also thought provoking and interesting.

I think often times, family and friends hold onto someone longer that the someone wishes to hold on and it makes it harder for them to pass peacefully. Funny how we're never ready to give up the ones we love. We want them to fight, even if it's not in their best interest. This is something I know I've struggled with and will struggle with for the rest of my life, I'm sure. I know that writing my living will is overdue. And I know that I probably need to sit down with the hubs and make sure he knows my wishes, even if they are painful for him to hear.

I encourage you to do the same. The title of the post comes from a poem, ironically, the poem is the opposite of my wishes, I'd much rather go gently into the good night rather than rage against the dying of the light.

Dylan Thomas, not much of a looker, eh?

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light. 
-Dylan Thomas