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Good Luck with That—Have a Meaningful Health Care Directive, Please


Above: Poppies run wild. Just a little update for all of you wondering how the poppies are doing. And a little visual for an otherwise difficult topic.

"Good luck with that," it's my new mantra. And it's my new catch phrase. It's my new comment for just about everything—every silly, inane, nonsensical thing that has floated by me in the past two months. 

Lately, as friends know, and as close readers of the blog may have surmised, much of my time has been taken up with elder care issues for Dick’s parents.

What you might not know is that I am a sarcastic and lippy individual (I thought you would get that from reading the blog, but feedback from friends tells me that isn’t coming through as much as I would have hoped; I’ll work on that). 

What you also might not know is that I used to be a first responder. (I actually trained with a bunch of firemen—two of whom passed out when we were learning about birthing babies!) Since I don’t have a search dog at present I let my credentials lapse. This doesn’t mean that if you collapsed in front of me I wouldn’t be able to save your ass, or maybe it does…Imagine, if you were a first responder and you were given a health care directive that read:

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