On...

Yesterday, I began a close-out year. That's right, I turned 39 and have begun the process of closing out my thirties. I am not a fan of close-out years. To be honest, I don't know if nine bothered me and I'm pretty sure 19 didn't, but I know 29 was challenging - not because the year itself was particularly difficult, but for what closing-out a decade means to me. I am so much better at hello than I am at goodbye. I had no problem with 30, as it allowed me to open a new chapter, fresh with new possibilities. I believe I'll feel the same about 40. No qualms whatsoever. I like fresh starts. I hate, however, long goodbyes. I don't like feeling sad about saying goodbye, so I generally do it quickly and get on to the next thing. I don't want to feel mired down by the sadness of leaving. And yet, here I am, with 365 days to say goodbye to my thirties. Why on earth would I want to say goodbye for 365 days? Can't I just skip 39 and go right to 40? Since I...

I am a medical miracle. And, not a day goes by that I don't think about how I am grateful to the doctors, nurses, and staff at Shock Trauma that worked so hard to ensure my survival. And yet, sometimes, modern medicine is unspeakably cruel in its quest to save. Sometimes, there is no quality left to the life that has been saved. Sometimes, being able to save someone doesn't necessarily mean that you should. I believe that it is nothing but good intention that has driven modern medicine so far, has allowed so many medical miracles, and has driven medical practitioners to get better, to do more. And still... at some point, shouldn't it stop? Shouldn't the wishes of the patient be taken into account? Shouldn't a life well-lived be more important than a long-lived life, especially when it is no longer of quality? The next part of this blog is not just a political agenda. It isn't just what I believe (although I do believe very strongly in a patient's right...