Standing Up For Choice…

I’m prepared to learn that perhaps two or three out of every ten readers of this blog might decide to not come back after I share my thoughts today on a topic that is quite relevant to my situation.

That would be in line with the stats that tell us that 70-80% of Canadians support an issue that’s been hotly debated for some time, but it would seem especially so in the last few weeks.

This issue is one that fall under many names. Dying with dignity, end of life options, gentle death, physician assisted suicide, the right to choose. You might be aware that Vermont recently became the third U.S. state to allow physician assisted death for patients falling within a stringent set of parameters. It likely won’t be long before more states pass similar legislation to allow a dignified, peaceful death for individuals dealing with terminal illness.

The reason I’m coming forward with more detail about my personal situation is because I strongly believe that Canadians should be given the opportunity to make a decision that is right for them. As a person with a life limiting illness, I deserve a voice in the matter.

Dying with dignity is an option that I would like to be available to me legally. I’m not saying that I’m certain that assisted suicide is the right thing for me, or if it is, what I would want the timing to be.

What I do know is that as my health continues to decline and my independence diminishes day by day, I’d like to have some control in how my last weeks or days play out. It’s my life, my body.

Issues surrounding my wish to have a more peaceful death have been under discussion for quite some time with my family, my doctor, my palliative team and the local hospice. By no means has this been an easy road, but it has been for the most part been addressed with respect and compassion.

Well over a year ago, I made two important decisions. The first was to sign my “Do Not Resuscitate” order, under no circumstance do I wish to have heroic measures used to save my life if my body has decided otherwise.

The second was a decision to not have my pacemaker replaced when the battery runs out. For anyone wishing to do the math, it was implanted in 2003. The time I’ve been using it is a whole lot longer than the time that is left on the battery.

This issue is not nearly as simplistic as perhaps I’m making it to be; I’ll share more in the coming weeks. For now I will leave you with a passage that my daughter shared last night with me from the book “Life of Pi”, written by Yann Martel . After reading it, she asked me if this is what dying slowly felt like to me.

“Oncoming death is terrible enough, but worse still is oncoming death with time to spare, time in which all the happiness that was yours and all the happiness that might have become yours becomes clear to you. You see with utter lucidity all that you are losing. The sight brings on an oppressive sadness that no car about to hit you or water about to drown you can match. The feeling is truly unbearable.”

I told her that perhaps I didn’t see it as unbearable – yet – I try very hard to not allow myself to go there. The passage did strike me as particularly poignant looking at it from the perspective of a younger person who will not have the opportunity to live to a ripe old age.

The fact is that the end in many ways looks like it could be quite ugly. Yet there are measures that can be taken to ensure that the end is not as awful as it might be. That to me is something worth speaking up about.