If Not Now, When?

Ever since I was diagnosed with ovarian cancer, I have felt urgency. Urgency to travel to places I haven’t been, to experiencing new things. And perhaps most important, to have a will.

Even before I got sick I would talk to Jerry about this. I would say, we need a plan. We need a will. We finally started moving on it about a month ago. It is a more complex process than I had imagined. We own some property, have various bank accounts and then, of course, there are the cats who might be here when we are not.

Just last week I was having dinner with my sister who brought up the topic. She informed me that my brother did not want to be her executor, and that meant it would be me. What else could I say but, okay. She talked about wanting to leave money to BARCS, the shelter where I volunteer, and that was just about the end of the conversation. Of course, no papers traded hands for me to sign. This was just a casual conversation.

But then, this week on Monday, my sister seemingly disappeared. A coworker of hers called me to tell me she had gone to Sinai Hospital that morning and asked me what I knew. Nothing. I told her I would see what I could find out and would let her know.

I called Sinai and someone told me she had been a patient, but she had been discharged. Her word, not mine. Discharged. Except she wasn’t home. I called back asking if she had been transferred to another hospital, but was told they didn’t have that information. So I got on the phone. I called a physical rehab facility she went to after an aortic aneurysm surgery two years ago. No. I called Johns Hopkins. The wonderful woman I spoke to checked the emergency department and their other hospitals. No. I called GBMC, University of Maryland. How could she have disappeared. I didn’t sleep well that night.

I called Sinai back the next day, thinking perhaps they made a mistake. I tried Hopkins again— perhaps she had been in transit. I had the desk staff at her condo check her apartment in case they missed her coming in.

By Wednesday I was pretty frantic so I called the police to file a missing persons report. That evening, a police officer came to the house to get information. She told me she needed to go to the car to make a call. When she returned she had the information I was looking for. My sister had died at Sinai on Monday.

Thursday morning, finally, Sinai called me. No, they didn’t apologize. But they would give me an extra day, until Friday, to make arrangements for her body. Normally one gets 72 hours, but the oh so generous people at Sinai we’re giving me fewer than 24 hours.

I hate that place. It is a crappy hospital with even crappier customer service. But I knew my sister wanted her body donated to medical research so I started the wheels in motion on that. I am so thankful that those folks were kind, caring and cooperative. They emailed me the paperwork and I got it right back to them, so my sister could leave the morgue by the deadline.

While all this was going on I was trying to reach my brother, whom I hadn’t spoken to in more than five years. He doesn’t like me. But despite our differences I knew I had to reach him and voice mail wasn’t working and I didn’t have a cell phone number or email address. So I got creative. I know he uses twitter so I messaged him via that app. Shortly thereafter he called.

So what is the point of this recounting other than to blow off steam. Not much. So I will get to the point. My sister died without an up to date will. And it seems the attorney she most recently used has either died, retired or just does not return phone calls. We found a complete will from more than 10 years ago, and rather than go through probate we will use it, if we can find a way to transfer the executorship from my brother to me. In it, she leaves everything to my brother and me, but since I know her wishes we can make that happen.

So what’s my real point? Whoever you are, whether you are a cancer survivor or the healthiest person on the planet, you could get hit by a truck this afternoon. Make a will. Let your plans be known. Put the will someplace where people can find it. Jerry and I spent three hours at my sister’s apartment yesterday combing through drawers and drawers of files. We found drafts of more recent wills, but only one complete one.

My sister is gone. I should be grieving. Instead I am filled with anger at a hospital, and I am filled with frustration that she did not complete paperwork to make this process less arduous. A difficult lesson that I am taking to heart.