Gillian Bennett, 85 years old, took her own life wishing that assisted suicide had been available to her. Bennett left behind her husband, two children, six grandchildren, and two great-grandchildren.
"Today, now, I go cheerfully and so thankfully into that good night” and "I need no more," were her parting words on her website.
She needed no more. Her children her grandchildren her great grandchildren might have needed or wanted more. But that didn’t matter. It is all about her needs and wants. I remember my mother nearing 90, not terribly well. But she lived to see three great grandchildren. I watched her as she looked on in wonder at the last great grandchild she lived to embrace. She held that little baby close to her, gently opened the receiving blanket and looked at the hands and feet and marveled at how perfect she was. My mother was in awe over the ten little fingers and toes as if she had never held a baby before. My mother left me a glorious memory and a hope that I too will one day marvel at the fingers and toes of great grandchildren. To do that, I must live.
Gillian Bennett chose otherwise. She did not want to live in a body that wasn’t perfect with a mind that was failing-but far from failure. These are some of her last words:
“Dementia gives no quarter and admits no bargaining. Research tells us that it's a “silent disease,” one that can lurk for years or even decades before its symptoms become obvious. Ever so gradually at first, much faster now, I am turning into a vegetable. I find it hard to keep in my mind that my granddaughter is coming in three days’ time and not today. “Where do we keep the X?” (coffee / milkshake-maker / backspace on my keyboard / the book I was just reading) happens all the time. I have constantly to monitor what I say in an attempt not to make some gross error of judgment.”
I don’t know about you, but I don’t always remember the dates of my grandchildren’s birthdays or which day I will be seeing them. I have lost memories. Someone will refer to a place or event and I will respond with a blank look. “Did I have fun?” would be my question. And if the answer is yes, that’s great. I constantly lose track of time. There are times I don’t know what day it is in the week. Perhaps because I don’t have a rigid schedule and the luxury of not needing to know the time or the day. I have absolutely no sense of direction or distance. I used to. I have many days when words fail me. It’s like playing charades as I try to get others to understand.
For someone afflicted with dementia, may I say that Ms. Bennett had a wonderful way with words. Poetic. How many more beautiful pieces might she had written if she hadn’t quit-on herself and her family who said they will greatly miss her. And of the granddaughter-do you think she cared whether her grandmother knew what day she was visiting? Or do you think the granddaughter just loved to be with her, garner memories of her, listen to her lyrical speech, enjoy her embraces?
I think what I find so upsetting about the talk of death with dignity being equated with state sponsored murder is the sense of entitlement of these people who don’t want to suffer-but won’t take their own lives. They want us to do it. Maureen Taylor, widow of Dr. Donald Low, is urging the Supreme Court of Canada “to acknowledge that this is the right of all Canadians who want a choice to die.” Dr. Low died from a brain tumour. Before he died he left us a video talking about the right to die. I looked at that and wondered. A doctor. Access to all kinds of pain medications. But he didn’t take them. He died of his illness a few days later. Why didn’t he take his own life? What stayed his hand? Why did he put it upon the rest of us to take lives of others; the state to get into the business of killing the weakest amongst us? In Canada, we abolished the death penalty and yet here we are talking about state sanctioned murder of a different kind.
For those with ALS, MS, MD, Parkinson’s, Alzheimer’s, dementia; yes, these are difficult diseases to bear. But you know the progression of the illness. You know what will happen. Maybe not when, exactly, but you know. So if you are one of those who does not want to suffer, at all or a little, then by all means end your life. Refuse treatment. Don’t go on the respirator when told that is the last resort. Don’t take antibiotics when you have pneumonia.
If you are well enough to write lovely notes, or travel to countries where the state takes lives, then you are well enough to end your life without my help-the doctor, or the state. There are so many who have died by their own hand-alone, afraid, helpless, hopeless-such terrible loss of life. But they didn’t ask for my help. Perhaps if they had they would have chosen life. But you want and expect everything. You get that last drop of life and then ask someone else to end it when you can’t. Such entitlement at the expense of the humanity of those upon whom you make these demands.
I would never deny a person the right to end their life. I would wish that they would find reasons to carry on-if not for themselves, then their loved ones. But for those who fear suffering, being a vegetable, then please take your own life. Collect your pills, your painkillers. Buy over-the-counter sleeping aids, in large quantities. Sit down, write a sorry-for-yourself suicide, take the pills with a lovely glass of Merlot and then go quietly into that good night. But don’t wait so long that you ask me, a citizen in Canada to take it for you. That is cowardice.
And for those of you who say you don’t want to be a burden-please-you aren’t thinking of others. If as a parent you taught your children gratitude then they will be grateful in their care for you. And they will take that love and share it with others, strangers, in need of comfort and companionship. If being a burden is a reason to end life, then how many others will we take? How many people are “burdens” on the state, on nurses, the health care system? On family?
Before we turn state murder into something dignified, let’s spend our efforts on ensuring that life, from beginning to end is dignified. That the last days are filled with comfort and compassion and as much love as possible.
It is not only for the dying that we must be concerned. It is also for the living. Those who remain behind. We care for those who are the weakest amongst us so that we, our community, our society, our country, remain kind, compassionate and above all, human.
Often it is fear of the unknown that pushes still healthy people into asking for state-sanctioned murder. It is fear of pain, and disability. And that fear hides all that can be wonderful at the end of life.
Very few of us end up in a vegetative state without warning. And those who do; don’t know it. We care for them so that we remain kind, compassionate and charitable. Human.
