It’s on you for not telling anyone your intentions. Your decision. Your responsibility to make sure it’s adhered to. So start with informing people. Don’t get shocked that no one understands what you want without you telling them first. Own yourself.
And how, precisely, am I supposed to tell random fucking jackoffs like in the story?
None of you fucks even know what a DNR is, means, what it looks like, and not a single one of you cunts could be expected to uphold it even if you were told.
You don’t get a special bracelet. This isn’t the ‘life alert’ infomercial. Tattoos mean absolutely nothing to medical professionals.
You literally have to have a DNR on file, active, in your county of residence, and they have to look it up. Which will not happen until you’re already admitted.
And if you get sent to a hospital in a different county? Because you’re visiting family or something? You’re fucked. You’re on a machine, keeping you alive. As long as your shitty relatives feel like it.
I have no desire to die incoherent in a hospital with no concept of what’s going on other than everything is uncomfortable. And with the united state’s version of healthcare, I will have to make sure I die somewhere else.
They aren’t random people. This was a neighbour. Tell your neighbours. They are right fucking there. Frankly you are the person you should be most mad at for being in your own way for this one. failing to not only get to know who Lives around you but also tell someone who’s not even a mile away from you you absolute Psychopath. That’s on you. You’re a fucking grown up. That’s entirely on you. Slip on your big person pants and get to work at owning your decisions by TELLING PEOPLE. Stop just sitting on what you feel is ‘valued information’ the moment you get it. They aren’t fucking psychics.
It’s on you for not telling anyone your intentions. Your decision. Your responsibility to make sure it’s adhered to. So start with informing people. Don’t get shocked that no one understands what you want without you telling them first. Own yourself.
And how, precisely, am I supposed to tell random fucking jackoffs like in the story?
None of you fucks even know what a DNR is, means, what it looks like, and not a single one of you cunts could be expected to uphold it even if you were told.
You don’t get a special bracelet. This isn’t the ‘life alert’ infomercial. Tattoos mean absolutely nothing to medical professionals.
You literally have to have a DNR on file, active, in your county of residence, and they have to look it up. Which will not happen until you’re already admitted.
And if you get sent to a hospital in a different county? Because you’re visiting family or something? You’re fucked. You’re on a machine, keeping you alive. As long as your shitty relatives feel like it.
I have no desire to die incoherent in a hospital with no concept of what’s going on other than everything is uncomfortable. And with the united state’s version of healthcare, I will have to make sure I die somewhere else.
When I die, it isn’t fucking about you
They aren’t random people. This was a neighbour. Tell your neighbours. They are right fucking there. Frankly you are the person you should be most mad at for being in your own way for this one. failing to not only get to know who Lives around you but also tell someone who’s not even a mile away from you you absolute Psychopath. That’s on you. You’re a fucking grown up. That’s entirely on you. Slip on your big person pants and get to work at owning your decisions by TELLING PEOPLE. Stop just sitting on what you feel is ‘valued information’ the moment you get it. They aren’t fucking psychics.