Leave the Jewelry, Take the DNR Card

So, I have the biopsy tomorrow. And I have to tell you that while I'm not nervous about this procedure, the hospital is doing everything in its power to scare the begeezus out of me. For the sake of efficiency, St. John’s has their data entry specialists call you ahead of time so that you can pre-register and fill out all your paperwork over the phone. Which is great. Terrific. Expeditious. I like it. Except…they ask you questions like, “What’s your religion of preference?” And “Do you have a living will?” And “Your emergency contact is your mother. What state is she in?” I’m imagining a priest clutching a cross and two blokes in surgical masks holding red Igloo coolers standing at my bedside waiting for me to kick it so they could usher my soul into the Afterlife and take my heart and kidneys respectively. "But my doctor said that it was just a local..."

I realize that any time they put a person under there is the chance they won’t come out, but I have to tell you, I’m not taking this too seriously. Especially since I realize this all just precautionary and that the data entry specialist is only filling out the standard pre-op form and my liver doctor basically said it would be a quick in-out thing. And considering I’m not an alarmist, I’m finding this all kinda amusing in a very black and morbid way. I can’t help but think that it would be just my kind of luck to stupidly die like this. And as my Uncle Larry lives, this would be just the switcheroo that God likes to pull on the Dillons. Luckily, my parents are coming out for a visit in two weeks anyway, so it’s not like I would be inconveniencing anyone (I’m thoughtful that way).

Alright, so none of you are laughing and you’re all thinking I’m nuts and insensitive, but just know that if I do die tomorrow, I’m laughing hysterically in Heaven.