This old thing
Nashville is Talking seems to always be broken. The main page seems to work but comments are often screwed up and permalinks to individual posts are often broken. Anyway, if this link works, Brittney’s asking what do you want done with your body when you die.
I figure, I could care less. Told the wife she could just put me in a Hefty Cinch Sack and put me on the curb. I figure I’ll either be busy not existing, trying to figure out how they made a road out of gold, or tagging virgin number 12 by the time my funeral comes around. In short, not real concerned.
But, at my funeral, I’d rather have a party. No crying, no sobbing. Heck, get a keg. Better yet, have a life size cardboard cut out of me holding an ice cold beer so people can have their picture taken with the dead guy.
March 23rd, 2006 at 6:02 pm
My family often has a case of beer in the trunk.
When someone goes for a “smoke break” at the viewing, a whole host of people go out to slam a beer and have a puff.
On two occasions we’ve had a visitor’s phone go off at the funeral – and she couldn’t get to it in her purse to shut it off. The first time it was my fiancee at my step-mother’s funeral. The second time it was my sister at my fiancee’s funeral.
Speaking of my fiancee’s passing, I had a very uncomfortable conversation with a doctor at ICU just before My Love passed away. He needed a sign-off on organs to be removed and donated. It took quite a few “go-arounds” to get this guy to accept “no”. I finally had to spell it out to him like this;
“Listen – she died of Lung Cancer that had metastasized to her brain, liver, and chest. It probably had permeated *every* organ in her body. We can’t – with a clear conscience – donate an organ that may cause the recipient to get cancer.”
“So you don’t want to donate any organs?”
(This was the third time he asked that question.)
“No.”
“Not even the eyeballs?”
“(sigh) Can you guarantee they don’t have cancer and won’t infect the recipient?”
“No.”
“Then no – not even the eyeballs.”
I appreciate all that doctors do and all they go through.
But for crap’s sake they can be callous sometimes….
(I can still see the conversation – the hallway, lighting, doctor’s clipboard and pen – all of it.)
March 24th, 2006 at 5:15 am
Told my wife to spray me down with some of that plastic goop you use on an outside deck, then prop me up in a corner with a Dr. Pepper in my hand, and throw a party. Later she can replace the Dr. Pepper with a bird feeder and set me up in the backyard.