Daddy, Papa and Me

I remember a story told by a friend during the plague years. He was visiting a dying friend in hospital and a couple of beds down the ward from his friend, the curtains were drawn around a patient. From behind the curtains, he could hear a man softly singing a show-tune. "Well, at least that guy's keeping his spirits up," my friend remarked. "Actually," his dying friend replied, "the man in that bed died this morning and was taken away by his family. That's his boyfriend. The family won't let him go to the funeral or ever see his spouse's body again. They've kicked him out of their apartment. It wasn't his name on the lease. So he's just sitting there, singing their favorite song to an empty bed. It's the last time he'll get that close to his husband. The nurses didn't have the heart to tell him to leave yet. He's been there for hours."

Our own experience with the denial of hospital visitation and health care decisions is not nearly as poignant as this story, but you get the picture...

About 6 years ago we were visiting my family in Palo Alto California from our home in Germany. To make a long story short, I went to the doctor for headaches (and other reasons) one morning and they immediately put me in the 'urgent care' ward because my blood pressure was 240/190 (in case you don't know, 120/70 is normal). The (cardiologist) doctor's comment was 'I've seen only one reading higher in my 20 years, and he died of stroke a hour later).. scared me.

Well, when Guy, who was working in San Francisco Salt Lake City (my dear partner reminds me that he was in SLC, thus the need to call), heard that i was put into urgent care (but not knowing why), he called them to find out what was wrong. He was not kin, and even here in 'liberal' California (before domestic partnership law), they would not tell him ANYTHING about what was wrong. Not why I was there, how bad it was, what was happening, what decisions needed to be made, nothing. He was not allowed to visit and definitely wasn't going to be told anything. He was going to have to call my mother to get her to call. And this even though we had legal papers giving each other health decision rights. By this time, he had to call my brother who lives nearby to go to the hospital and find out what had happened to me. I myself was drugged up and put in a bed (I wanted to call out, but was being probed, prodded and drugged in a bed at the time.

He called again and kept getting passed from one doctor or administrator to another when an orderly picked up the phone, Guy told him the story....

and he handed me the phone saying "I'm not supposed to do this, but I'm gay.. I know what you are going through"

I talked to him finally.

but what if I were unconsious and they wouldn't let him see me, or refused to let him make health decisions because he was not 'kin'?

Oh sure, he could sue them in court later.. but what consolation would that have been after I died and he wasn't allowed to see me or help in making these very important decisions. Its about love and being with and helping the person you are committed to, not about money or the 'niceties of rights'.