Where There is a Will There is a Way

The only thing I came away from it knowing for sure is that I needed a living will. Now for those of you who don't know, a living will is different from one of those wills where after you are dead you give away your DVD collection. No a living will is for the living, I'm pretty sure that's where it get's it's name. It covers things such as "do you want to be resucitated? and should we pull the plug?"

Therefore, I will put right here and now in black and white for the whole cyberworld to see my own LIVING WILL!

I, Chip Brown, being of sound mind and body, unequivocally declare that in the event of a catastrophic injury, GET ME TO A DOCTOR! I have little faith in doctors but I feel somewhat confident that they know more than judges. I guess that's why you don't see an ambulance entrance to courthouses.

Under no condition if I can talk or heck even if I can grunt a little should the plug be pulled. I don't care if I'm honking like a goose or snorting like a bulldog in heat, I might be saying something important! Assume that this is a sign that I am thinking and on my way to a full recovery!

I do not care if some doctor tells you my brain is melting and I know nothing. Unless this doctor is somehow psychic he has no idea if I'm thinking. He may assume I have no thoughts while I am laying there in my backless gown thinking "What the heck are you idiots doing with that tube?"

I want medical authorities to resort to extraordinary means to prolong my existence. Fifteen years wouldn't be long enough for me. Heck let's go for the record and see if I can take the spot in the book of records as the oldest living person!

The cessation of any extraordinary means of keeping me alive should only be made after:

It is determined I have a terminal illness with no chance of recovery. I SAID NO CHANCE! For God's sake I buy lottery tickets!

A careful examination  should be made by a doctor who has no ties to the Right To Die idiots! They're always looking for new recruits, but I never see any of them signing up for the ride to paradise. No sir they're always sitting there saying what a great trip the poor ill person will have on the heavely Grayhound ride to their reward...but they'll wait on the next bus.

Now while I am in this condition should my heart stop drag out that machine and shock my butt back to life. In the absence of that machine try an extension chord or a car battery...just do something!

If while in this condition I stop breathing please give me some of that mouth to mouth stuff. I don't care if you are ugly as sin or have bad breath. I guess I don't really care if you are a man...but if there is a woman in the room let her give it a try. If there are two women in the room pick out the best looking one.

If you are the person who tried mouth to mouth and failed to save me please go to my funeral. Please wear a sign that says "I am the person who gave him mouth to mouth and obviously failed!"

As for my family I have a few wishes for the dignity of the condition I may find myself in:

I want my wife and my parents to enhance their misery by engaging in a feud that depletes their emotions and their bank accounts.

I want my wife to waste her life by maintaining an vigil at my bedside. I'd be really jealous if she waited a decade to start dating again.

I would like my whole situation to be turned into a circus complete with updates on CNN and George Bush saying how brave I am being a vegetable. Maybe there would be a movie or at least a book deal in it for us. Make sure that the correct number of crackpots appear on television and feign the same concern for me that they had for O.J.'s wife and that stupid little kid that fell down the well.

I would like several elected officials who don't my name to allow me to lay there like that for 20 years and wait until the last minute to try to save me. I'm not sure exactly how giving speaches in Congress and talking on CNN exactly help me but hey let's give her a try. Maybe while you have those heart start jumper cables out you could shock ol' Rush Limbaugh, I don't think he's used his heart in years.

If all fails and I move on to my ultimate demise I want a big coffin. I want one so large that it will make me look skinny. I don't want some idiot at my funeral saying "it was probably because of his weight."

Do not bury me in a suit or a tuxedo! Put me in jeans, my boots and a good T-shirt with a few holes...My wife knows the few I wear. I kind of figure that what I wear in my coffin is what I'll have on in heaven and I don't want to be mistaken for a Preacher or used car salesman and put on the down escalator.

And finally, if you are the last one to leave the funeral parlor, reach over and give me a shake, maybe I'm just asleep!