^{Photo credit: Me.}

Dear Family and Friends,

Lest there ever be any confusion, I’d like to clarify my wishes regarding horrific medical circumstances.

Why would I need to a lawyer to wrap legalese around what should be crystal clear from my own words?

If you’re referring to this document, things are ugly. It rather sucks that this has happened, whatever it is.

Nevertheless, there are a few things I want to be perfectly understood.

1. Beyond DNR

If, whether due to accident, illness, disease, act of war, act of nature, or the highly unlikely Act of God, my body is in a state of irreversable unconsciousness, coma, or persistent vegetation, without higher brain functions, and if reasonable physicians advise there’s no legitimate hope of my ever regaining meaningful brain function, kill what’s left.

Do not rescusitate doesn’t go far enough. In such a case, I want active extermination.

If physicians seem amenable to a morphine drip (wink wink nudge nudge), so be it. Get me feeling no pain and then up the dosage to 11. If not, starvation should do the trick—no hydration or feeding. Remove all monitoring devices, too. Just let the husk fade away. Nothing else, until the rest of the body is as deceased as the real me.

In a worst-case scenario, should some determined asshole decide to work the legal system hard to keep my body going—and curse you if you’re that asshole —then a pillow placed forcefully over the face for 10 minutes during visiting hours should do the trick.

Have I made myself perfectly clear? If brain function is gone, so am I. Don’t get hung up on the meat. I’m not the meat. I’m a big collection of chemical reactions, the only truly important of which take place mostly in the complex frontal areas of the neural tissue. The rest of my body is just a generator to deliver fuel to that one critical area. Once that area's down for the count, so am I.

Not only would it be incredibly stupid to hook up the meaty remainder to machines to keep it functioning after the brain’s gone (and you know how I hate stupid), it’d also be incredibly selfish.

Which leads me straight into…

 2. No leftovers

Most importantly, let’s hope that I don’t die in such a way that it messes up body parts which could have helped others to live longer and/or better.

I hope every last bit of me serves some useful purpose when I’m gone. Barring a catastrophic exit that leaves only ashes or pulp behind, PLEASE, DO NOT fetishize remains. In fact, I’d prefer if there were no physical remains at all.

I want you to eagerly authorize anybody who wants to come near my corpse with a scalpel to help themselves. Go ahead! Scavenge, glean, harvest, slice, dice, julienne. Donate every last useable organ, tissue, and fluid. Give what’s left to medical students to practice dissection, incision techniques, etc. Hell, I don’t even care if the army ends up blowing up my corpse to test land mine destruction levels.

If entire-body donation is for whatever reason not an option, then by all means, explore disposing of the meat in any other creative way you can think of—target practice. A barbeque to feed the family pets. A snack for vultures out in the desert. Feed the sharks. Whatever.

3. Skip the funeral / memorial routine

Death assemblies are a pain. Somebody joins the choir invisible and suddenly, if you were related or friendly, you feel an obligation to hop the nearest flight and go through the motions of grieving on cue. If you don’t, after, all, what would people say?

I hate funerals. They’re expensive to arrange, expensive to attend, and more or less useless when it comes to the grieving and healing process. They’re societally sanctioned extortion. They’re evil.

I am on record as being rabidly opposed to the entire existence of the death industry and I would be mortified (no pun intended) if my death were to contribute even one dime to it.

Instead, check in with the people I left behind. Regularly. For six months, at least. Preferably a year. Or more. No matter how uncomfortable you may be picking up the phone. Survivors need somebody to be there for them long after the all leftover ham and casseroles would have been stuffed into the freezer.

Bottom line: DO NOT PAY TO MAKE MY REMAINS GO AWAY. Apply the few grand that would have been dumped into a funeral or cremation to something you actually want or need. Hell, if you’re really at a loss for possibilities, take a cruise on your bereavement days. Do something fun. Go horseback riding in my honor. Go to a theme park and ride every roller coaster. Take a hot air balloon ride. It's up to you.

Just don’t waste cash and time on a ridiculously overpriced box, three hours of room rental, and a collective traipse off to see the box lowered into a hole that will eventually be eighteen square feet of grass in a cemetery.

If in fact there does turn out to be some sort of afterlife with the option of intervention in this plane, I vow here and now that I will come back and haunt you if you ignore this directive.

That’s right. I’ll metaphysically kick your ass from beyond the grave.