dispensable
stripped bare
windblown leaves
fall where they will
cascading quickly
descending
into darkness
let them rest
in peace
unidentified remnants
of another age
when we were
very young
my eyes blur over
stung by truth
too bitter to ignore
despite the cost
to our humanity
some are dispensable
Recent discussions about triaging elderly coronavirus patients are on my mind. Given my admirable age, it seems I’m in the endangered species category.
I don’t know what to make of this. I just reviewed my Living Will. No help there. It never heard of a pandemic like this.
Nor do I relish the idea of being involuntarily hooked to life support at the expense of someone who hasn’t lived as long as I.
Regardless of what I decide for myself, I’m troubled by the stark naked truth these conversations make painfully visible. Old age isn’t necessarily honored in this country, except in ethnic groups or tribes that actively honor their seniors. Not once a year, but daily. Whether they’re ill or not.
That’s what’s on my mind today. Meanwhile, identified coronavirus patient numbers skyrocket, and limited medical resources diminish daily.
Have you thought about your own wishes? What would you do/not do?
Elouise♥
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 26 March 2020
Photo found at pinterest.com
Telling the Truth 