I am 37 and I have yet to experience the loss of a loved one. No one is missing from my life through death. I wonder how many people of my age, can say that? I do not say this to boast, but to illustrate how cosseted by life has been and how singularly unqualified I am to speak about death. I am however an inveterate blogger, so I’m going to write about it anyway. I do recognise though, that not having watched a loved one die and the fact I am healthy, does make my exploration of this topic, somewhat shallow.
From a theoretical and philosophical perspective, I have long supported the idea of assisted Suicide and Euthanasia. As an atheist I do not suffer the delusion of magical interdiction and as no one dear to me has ever had to face death, I have never had to be emotionally invested in the topic. Looked at, from a purely intellectual stance, Assisted Suicide and even Euthanasia are rational, logical and positive medical interventions.
The usual practice, when one encounters a device that is broken beyond repair, is to dispose of it. I can think of no examples where power is fed into a device just to create the illusion of functionality. When one then imagines that device as a living thing, the scenario becomes a practice in barbarity. A practice that our species would not countenance being inflicted on other animals. On the contrary, we would recoil in disgust if a dog owner, failed to spare their beloved pet, the pain of a prolonged and inevitable death. It would be viewed as a torture inflicted for the emotional surcease of a weak being. And if that person sought to justify their behaviour as being divinely inspired? Well, only sociopaths willfully inflict pain on animals to satisfy an emotional need.
Yes, I am being didactic and uncompromising about the theoretical right to die of theoretical living creatures. I could make also make a compelling argument for the systematic sterilisation of a huge number of adults. In my previous career I saw what adults did to children and any idealistic notions I had about procreation rights disappeared. I may no longer believe in those rights but I would still fight to defend them, simply because I would not trust those who would be making the decision to impose a sterilisation. I would not even trust myself to get those decisions correct every time.
For that reason my enthusiasm for Assisted Suicide is far greater than my tentative agreement with the practice of Euthanasia. It is the difference between a provision and an intervention. I see them as wholly separate services, though in reality they are not. They cannot be wholly separate as they intersect at two points. The first is that point, where someone who is availing of an Assisted Suicide, requires so much help to have their life ended that the service becomes indistinguishable from Euthanasia. The second point is consent. If someone has a Living Will which requests death in certain circumstances, does withdrawal of certain medical procedures constitute Euthanasia or Assisted Suicide?
That’s why I am more concerned about Euthanasia and more concerned with Assisted Suicide. Models for Assisted Suicide already exist, for example Dignitas in Switzerland. It is far from perfect. One has to travel, it is expensive but more importantly, it avoids any intersection with Euthanasia by only providing a service for those who can take an active role in the process. Unfortunately leading many with terminal and debilitating conditions, to suicide earlier than would be necessary, in a more understanding and flexible system.
Not having had to confront death may appear to be the biggest weakness in my argument, but there is a bigger one. What is it I am actually looking for? Am I arguing for a severely prescribed system of Assisted Suicide provision or am I looking for the widespread use of Euthanasia? I don’t know.
All that I am certain about, are my feelings now about a notional future circumstance. I am certain now, that I wish to exercise ultimate control over my fate for as long as I have the intellect to do so and that the wishes expressed when in full possession of my wits are respected when those wits desert me. I am certain now that the cessation of existence terrifies me, but to be prevented from the embrace of that nearing certainty, terrifies me more. I am certain now that my freedom to choose death, is more important than society’s desire to impose itself upon me.
These are the things I feel now, untested and untried feelings. Watching Terry Pratchett’s documentary about Assisted Suicide was the nearest I have come to real death. The closest I have come to experiencing an examination of my opinions.
Watching Mr Smedley and his dignified, but ultimately disempowered wife, was so startling, so informative and so heart breaking. If you have not seen the documentary (and you really need to watch it) Mr Smedley suffered from Motor-Neuron Disease and had decided to seek the services of Dignitas to end his life, while still able to self-administer the poison. We watched him meet the doctor who signed-off on his decision and we saw him at the building where the suicide was to take the place. We watched him take the poison and we watched his moment of panic, before he went under.
I have never watched a man experience his very last moments of consciousness before. It still haunts me. I had thought myself inured to such images. I am of the Pulp Fiction generation, I have watched tens of thousands of deaths in every imaginable way and no matter how arresting the images, Mr Smedley did cease to exist, I witnessed a real event and a possible future. Will I feel that moment of panic before I lose consciousness? How long would that moment seem to last, in my dimming mind?
I am scared by death, my death and the death’s of those close to me. There is little comfort to be mined from my naturalistic view of life, especially as I know Death to be unavoidable and final. I can take some comfort in the fact that pain is an integral part of life, but it is no longer a necessary part of death. I can take comfort in the fact that science will do for me, more than even my grandparents could dream of, though it still cannot prevent the diseases of gradual death. I can take comfort in the fact that I have spoken at length, to those closest to me and I am confident that they would take what actions they could, to see my wishes fulfilled. I can take comfort in that fact that I am still relatively young and this issue remains largely theoretical for me.
Finally I can take comfort in remembering Mr Smedley and that momentary crack in his unerring bravery and resolve. My terror is not lessened, but having seen the path he laid out for those who would follow, at least now my terror is largely of the known, not the more terrifying unknown.
Ask me again however, when I have had my first experience of grief.
