Would You Rather

"Would you rather die a peaceful death now or an excruciatingly painful death in three to six months?" Mister, or was it doctor, Monroe asked me.

"Are there no other choices?" Beyond the ever respectful beeping of my monitors, I heard the nurses swooshing down the hall way.

"Not for me. I'm the only Licensed Euthanizer in the area. I could maybe come back later, but it will cost you more."

"Oh," I mumbled. Monroe couldn't quite obscure his impatience with me. "How much is it now?" I asked.

"Today, since I'm already here, it would be six hundred dollars."

"And what would it be if I try to fight this out?" It was a question I hadn't even discussed with my brother.

"Well, that depends on my schedule. If it’s really inconvenient the fee goes up to seven thousand dollars." I could feel the blood in my skin be replaced by cold sweat. Monroe seemed to notice, "That's why you really want to decide today."

My mind reeled through the last few days of terrible pain, tests, hospital staff, and doctors, then the diagnosis of pancreatic cancer, terminal, and far advanced. Then earlier today, my doctor, Dr. Truitt had said, "I know this is a lot on you, but I've got someone I want you to talk to. It's Dr. Monroe (oh, doctor), and he can talk with you about your options." Evidently, treatment was not a Medicaid option, and Dr. Monroe's options were: now or later.

Dr. Monroe drew in a breath and cleared his throat.

I looked up at him, my body already thinned from the last few weeks, as if the cancer had saved up all its power for one big push, "You know I'm only seventeen."

"Oh. That won't be a problem. The State recognizes the right of individuals of sound mind to make EOL decisions beginning at the age of twelve."

No future. I halfheartedly kicked myself for not doing more, taking more chances. I didn't know...I didn't know. And really I can't say if knowing would have made any difference.

Dr. Monroe, with his trim salt and pepper goatee suggested, "Maybe you want to talk to your brother? Could you call him now? I'll be leaving in an hour or so."

"My brother doesn't have any money," I said. I didn't bother to explain that after our parents died that we had little else besides each other.

"So, is it settled?"

"I guess so."

"Good enough."

After the procedure Dr. Monroe jetted off to the next hospital on his route. Six weeks later, Dr. Monroe and Dr. Truitt received a small stipend; but it was a fraction of what the hospital collected for “Excellence in Cost Containment” for the second quarter.

END