Quote:
Originally Posted by ASU2003
It is one thing to want to die instead of being hooked up to life support, brain dead, or if you are paralyzed. But this woman seemed a little too alive.
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She had uterine, lung, and brain cancer. There is no way that she was going to live. She was already deteriorating, feeling sick, falling, and seemingly having some cognitive issues.
Why is it that western society thinks we have to wait until we are a drooling mass of flesh, unable to do anything for ourselves, before we are finally allowed to die?
At the end, my father couldn't do anything except type, slowly, with one finger. He couldn't bathe himself, couldn't get on the toilet by himself, couldn't wipe when he was done, someone had to feed him and clothe him. He couldn't even sleep in a bed because if he had to use the toilet during the night lifting him from the bed to his wheelchair and then from the wheelchair to the toilet would take too long and he wouldn't make it. Instead he slept in his wheelchair. And even then, he didn't always make it. He'd sleep in an 80 degree room under 4 blankets, wearing mittens and a wool hat because all of his voluntary muscles were virtually gone, so he couldn't generate enough heat to keep him warm. He coughed and choked constantly because his pharyngeal sphincter wasn't strong enough to keep his saliva from being aspirated into his lungs (in fact, that's what gave him the pneumonia that led to his death). All his food had to be cut or mashed up into tiny little pieces or he'd choke on it. The fork was almost too heavy for him to lift to his mouth, and he had to have a special fork like little kids use, with a very thick handle, because his fingers couldn't grip a normal fork. He couldn't go far from home because even handicapped public bathrooms couldn't accommodate what he needed - they don't have lifts in places like that. So there he was, trapped in his own body, never leaving his wheelchair, choking and unable to move, this former college track star and Vietnam veteran who once had thigh muscles like tree trunks and was known as "Fast Eddie." Unable to even hug his wife because he couldn't lift his arms, unable to sleep in the same bed with her, unable to even pet his dogs. A broken shadow of what he had been, utterly miserable and wishing it would end.
Where is the justice or compassion in forcing people to live like that?