Nail Biter

After a Summer hiatus, it's time to get back to blogging. We live in an over-anxious world; the personal control which accompanies financial security teeters on top of a hat pin.

One of the women I count among my friends, is a neighbor of six years. We began talking as new neighbors, grew interested in each other's work, families and social lives. We are separated by a generation, Marti is young enough to be my daughter. We are dissimilar in personality, although, each of us, in her way, outspoken and independent. Marti, however, is someone who suffers from an anxiety disorder, and knows it. She has had treatment in the past, but nothing, so far has been consistently successful.

Marti is a hard worker, diligent and painstaking. She is a pleaser; it is part of her professional persona. She is a catering supervisor, both working for an international corporation and for a small, but highly successful, local caterer. It is a stressful, unpredictable, business. Tastes, the fortunes of clients, trends in food, entertaining and marketing  ... all bring new meaning to change as the only constant. Perhaps not the best choice of career for a nail biter, but, the reality of the workplace rarely meets the ideal. Most of us, let's face it, work to pay for life's necessities, not to mention, most are only a paycheck away from temporary shelter. 

Marti, however, worries about everything. A Colorado native, for example, she worries about Winter coming. So when she came to me, to ask whether my document processing business included living wills, trusts and powers of attorney, I might have guessed she would jump right in, only to back-pedal furiously shortly thereafter. Here is my personal confession. In spite of my customary lack of fear,  I have done this. At 75 I had no living will, no advance medical directives, no powers of attorney in place. The reason was no reason at all -- no, it wasn't pure procrastination. It came down to dread at the acknowledgement, not so much of death, but, of catastrophic injury or illness. What terrible words are limitation, relinquishment, incapacitation ... isn't death preferable, in other words, to ultimate indignities and dependency?
Marti says she's "not ready," and I don't blame her. However, I hope she will reconsider. She is a divorcee, with one child and one grandchild. Her former spouse died recently. His protracted illness and lack of preparation for the end of his life cost his son dearly.