Let me tell you about Maggie

During the time I worked in eldercare, I had the good fortune to get to know people in their 80's, 90's and even a few in their 100's. Some of them were delightful people and others....well, not so much, as the saying goes. Lately, I've been remembering and thinking of a 94 year-old woman named Maggie.

Maggie was a statuesque woman who used a walker to get around. She was pleasant, had a great sense of humor, and seemed very wise. One day she took me aside in the hallway, looked me severely in the eyes and said, "If I die, don't you dare resuscitate me. If I have to, I will have NO CPR tattooed on my chest."

She was referring to a state law that said the staff had to perform CPR on someone who died, even if they had a do not resuscitate order on file. The reasoning was that only a doctor or EMT were qualified to declare death; so until that happened, we had to perform CPR.

I reminded Maggie that this was a law for which I or the staff could be held liable. Here's what she said to me.

"I'm 94 years old. I've lived a wonderful life. I know it doesn't look like it now, but I was very active and used to hike and climb mountains. I've had and raised my children who now don't have anything to do with me. I have inoperable lung cancer and I'm ready for whatever comes next. Don't you dare bring me back if I have died. Let me go. I'm ready."

I told her what a role model she was. Live life fully. Live out loud. Do what you came here to do and when the day comes be able to say, "I've lived a wonderful life with no regrets and I'm ready to move on."

The irony here was that Maggie still smoked cigarettes. Our community had just come out with a new no smoking in the building policy - residents had to go outside to smoke. Maggie would hide in her apartment and smoke in her bathroom with the exhaust fan on. The smoke would go into the apartment beneath hers. That resident would come and complain to me and I had to go to Maggie and tell her not to smoke in her apartment.

Her response was a wicked smile of defiance when she said, "OK." We both knew she didn't mean it. We both knew I would be back, asking her once again to take the smoke outside. I often wonder if one of the things that kept her going to 94 and beyond was that inner spirit of defiance.

I ask each of us: where can you live more fully and who or what do you need to defy?