My Living Will

I do not like unfinished business, so a bit of stress was created to finish tough projects like writing my wills. Let’s start this blog with technicalities, like the living will, as it is still unfinished and still has me tied up with many questions.

Do I want to be in intensive care for my death?

Do I want machines to keep me alive?

When I was 30 years old, I was living in New York City. Hells Kitchen. It was the same air as the world trade center. It was early October 2001, less than a month after the horrible event.

I was poisoned by the air (so doctors told me later). One evening while with friends in my cool photographer’s loft, I felt a tightening in my chest. I thought it was an asthma attack, so I went to get my inhaler. As I lifted it, I somehow felt that it was different than an asthma episode. I called my friend Eric to take me to the hospital.

Last time I saw a doctor was over 15 years ago, so asking to go to the hospital is a big deal. He took me immediately. We stepped into the elevator, and there was Itay, a neighbor from upstairs. I said hello and fell down unconscious, banging my head on the way.

I was gone

The next part was told to me later as I do not recall a thing. They carried me out to the street, laid me down on the side walk and began doing CPR. As it turned out I was not breathing nor was my heart beating. I guess that is what dying is. A third friend came and called 911. The ambulance hit me with some electric shocks to start my heart again. I was admitted to a nearby hospital where I had breathing tubes inserted.

My mom in Israel was contacted and she took the first plane over to NY. My brother from San Francisco flew in as well. They were told that I was unconscious with no chance of recovery.

I woke up after 2-3 days (I dismissed the entire event as no big deal at the time, and so many details are lost). Once they removed the breathing tubes from me, I asked to go home. It turns out that doctor announced before this that I had no chance of waking up. Even if I did, I would be a vegetable, as I had spent too long without oxygen in my brain.

This is a classic scenario where the family (or me in my living will), ask to not be kept alive by machines. However, I am writing to you now, 17 years later, thanks to not having a will like this in my 30s. What to do now? Sure, I do not want to stay on a machine forever, or be a vegetable.

Solution

If I do not wake up within one week – let me go. If I return as a vegetable, or I’m unable to communicate, let me go.

I am curious to know what you all think?