Now I lay me down to sleep: ‘Lucky, fire up the earth digger’

I’d like to die peacefully in my sleep like my Grampa, not kicking and screaming like the passengers in his car.”

One of my favorite e-mails ever, this just cracked me up and I think of it often. After all, who DOESN’T want to die peacefully in their sleep? More importantly, WHO LET GRAMPA DRIVE!?!

Legitimate questions for sure, but it does bring up the issue of if, and how, one can make their own choices when it comes time to face the end of one’s life.

Seems to me that the medical gurus of today are faced with some tough choices. Who to “allow” to live, and who to let go spiraling towards the light of eternity.

Follow the money, folks. For the uninsured, chances are you’re gonna be checking out a lot sooner than your adequately insured neighbor.This works just fine for me, but unfortunately there are many more factors involved that we should all be aware of.

For instance, do you want to be saved at any cost?

Do you care if your surviving loved ones have to live in a tent for their remaining days because you can’t stop chanting Save Me Save Me Save Me Don’t Let Me Die No Matter What We Have to Sell? Like our home, car, furniture, clothing, or great grammy’s diamond brooch?

The White Coats of today will delve into your lifestyle and personal choices when making your life or death decision for you.

Smokers are automatically ruled the first to go; however obesity is now classified as a “disability,” so the over-eaters will be treated the same as the five-mile-a- day jogger.

High-risk Nascar drivers? You know, the guys who drive their million dollar vehicles at 200 mph around and around a crowded race track?

Plenty of money and insurance, they’ll be saved if at all possible.

Of course, if a smoker has adequate depletable assets they will be forced to endure painful, costly “we can help ya live in agony for another couple of years” until your eventual demise, which will be so ugly that your family members will be thrilled when you finally pass.

True story: Just last week a woman (mother, sister, wife, gramma) in her seventies, lifelong smoker, passed away quietly at home, surrounded by her loving family, and exactly like she planned.

God bless her—she worked hard her entire life to care for her family, and they in turn returned the favor by abiding by her wishes.

However, these were not the wishes of her doctor. When she flatly refused the chemo and radiation treatments she was unceremoniously dismissed from her doctor’s care.

Hey, what ever happened to Comfort Measures Only? Nope, this particular White Coat wanted absolutely nothing to do with easing this gal into eternity—can’t put the offspring through college with THAT choice.

Sorry lady, get out—you made your choice by smoking your entire life and now you should die like a homeless dog. Yay for health care in America—it just gets better every day.

Okay, so now you finally get to “cross over,” and here comes the coroner to pronounce, the ambulance to transport your body, and the flashing lights of the state police because you had the audacity to die “unattended” by medical personnel.

Enter funeral guy.

What’s that? Cremation? Hey, just so ya know, we will charge you the same price to display your fancy urn full of ashes as we would if we had to pretty up your corpse, so ante up family members. Sheesh. Doesn’t it seem just a wee bit inappropriate to anyone out there that dying should be so costly? Can’t we, the supah stahs of innovation, put a halt to this exploitation of death? Are we so self important that we feel we deserve such a pricey sendoff?

Not this gal from Woodgate.

I’m petrified of hospitals and despise funeral homes. My loved ones have been notified many times of my wishes, and apparently there are legalities involved.

Dot your ‘i’s’, cross your ‘t’s’, and maybe, just maybe, you can leave this world without financially bankrupting the ones you love best.

Enter backhoe…