In my previous post about an absurd NIMBY protest in Canada, I suggested that it would be far worse to live next to a pig farm than a hospice. I was not aware of the sordid story of Canadian serial killer and hog farmer Robert Pickton and the rather traumatic associations people in that region have between death and pig farms. No such connection was intended, and my apologies to anyone who thought I was making any implications between dying in a hospice and being murdered by a vile criminal.
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She's a hospice nurse. When I tell people her occupation, I typically receive a response like this: "She must be a very special person.
As if the world needed another example of how the American health insurance system is completely insane, maddening, inefficient...I mean, we've all seen Sicko, right?
I recently lost a close family member to cancer. She was old, she had been ill a long time; it still hurts. But in her dying, she made some wise choices. She was a very bright woman, and retained her mental capacities right up until the end.
Not in my backyard! I wouldn't want a hog farm to be built upwind of me, because of the stench. I wouldn't want an airport built next door, because of the noise.