In Case of my Coma (and or Death); an Advanced Directive for an Asphalt Angel

When I finally had enough courage (and no shame) I started telling some people I know that I had cancer. I'd usually blurt something out like "I was recently diagnosed with cancer...it's stage IV...but I don't plan on dying, yet I think I'm going to be busy getting burned and poisoned for awhile". I was flooded with questions that were often too overwhelming to handle as I was still in shock myself and sorting through the confusing maze of mixed messages from the allopathic medical system. When I had surgery to implant a port-a-cath (a device in my chest that serves as a port for my chemo infusions) I was asked by a nurse if I had an Advanced Directive. I realized I really needed one. The thought of being hooked up to machines in a hospital bed the rest of my life because nobody had a record of what my wishes were horrified me (ever see the movie Million Dollar Baby ? I understand how Hilary Swank felt when she pleaded with Clint Eastwood to to put her out of her misery). So I immediately took inventory of myself and my closest friends who might be willing to be responsible (and tenacious enough) to be my agent.

I had a conversation with my dear friend Rhonda about being my spiritual and worldly assistant in the event I can no longer speak for myself due to medical complications. I was clear about not wanting to be dependent on machines, or be a vegetable...then Rhonda wanted more specific clarity as she asked "exactly how many days/weeks/months shall I wait to pull the plug ?". She was pinning me down for details I hadn't thought about nor wanted to think about but she deserved to have an answer.

So, here's the deal (Directive):

1) If I am in a coma or otherwise incapacitated and cannot speak for myself then I demand the following protocol. In less then 54 hours carry out these instructions:

A) Contact as many bikers as you can (start with Sol Sisters and then let the word out via the biker goddess grapevine).

B) Invite all these motorcycle enthusiasts to ride their bikes past my hospital/hospice/home bed as close as possible so that the thunder of their engines roar near me as they roll by.

C) If I don't snap out of it by the 54th hour...then pull the plug ! I figure if my spirit doesn't get called back here from hearing those pipe then I'm gone. If cannot kick a tire then I'm kicking the bucket.

2) If I die:

A) Cremate me after saving any physical body parts possible to donate (skin ? wonder who will get my dragon tattoo..and my affinity for Indian food, dark chocolate, and addiction to blueberry smoothies).

B) Scatter my ashes on a motobike run along several points of the same route taken when some of my Sol Sisters kidnapped me one day and we all played hookie. It was a perfect sojourn from my home in east county to Idyllwild for lunch...tea stop & a break from the heat at Starbucks...sunset at the beach.