Dying With Dignity, and Laughing About It.

About 20 years ago I got turned on to Art Buchwald's writing and humor. For those too young to remember him, you've should look him up on Amazon.com or Barnes and Noble and check out his writing.

I enjoy his work because he has the ability to be funny without being mean, or vulgar. It's an art that's kind of been lost in the last 40 years, with the exception of a few like Buchwald and Dave Barry, the guys I consider the best humorists of the last half century.

In today's Washington Post Style section there is an article by Art called "One Glorious Sunset", it's Art answering questions he's received while waiting to die in a hospice. Not many people could make being in a hospice, and being alive to talk about, it funny, but Art finds a way to do it. Here are a few examples of his questions, and answers:

Q. Why are you in a hospice?
A. To die with dignity, when I'm supposed to die. When I came here, I was supposed to say goodbye to the world in two or three weeks. But I'm still here after nine weeks.
Q. What went wrong?
A. Nobody knows -- not even the doctors. It's fun to see a doctor who doesn't know what's wrong with you.

He goes on to mention why he doesn't appear to be sad when folks see him on TV, he's been doing a bunch of appearances since he hasn't died.

And then, hallelujah, Sharon Waxman wrote a long piece about me in the Sunday
New York Times. As you know, you never existed unless you get into the New York Times. Usually you have to settle for an obituary, but this was a feature.

Very few people who know they are dying could pull off what Art has in this piece, humor and dignity when he should be full of sorrow according to conventional wisdom.

I read it and think, that's how I want to go out, pretty much on my terms. And if my terms aren't quite working, at least make the best of it by getting some publicity.

I'm thinking about the dignity thing because I was in a few bookstores over the last couple of weeks, and saw the dueling Terry Schiavo books on the shelves. To me, the woman had no dignity in her death; or for that matter the last few years of her life; with family fighting over her.

I my own opinion, she had no dignity for the last 11 years, and no real life. If a gurgle, or an eye movement is all you can point to and say "see, he's alive", but still have to have a feeding tube in me, pull the plug.

If I can't get up to wash my own ass, switch the TV channels, pluck at my guitar, or write something, I'm not alive, I just have a pulse. Life is more than breathing, and a heart beat, it's being able to give a hug, cry at something stupid, or laugh at a good joke.

I like how Art has decided to go, his own way, picking the speakers for his memorial service, and eating too much carry out, without a tube. And I want to go with some humor, because if I can't crack a joke, or give you a smart assed answer to a question, rest assured, in my mind I am dead, let me go.

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