I recently signed a petition in favour of Assisted Dying. Not that I'm thinking of going just yet mind, but I have thought about how I'd like to go, which is why I decided it was a good idea.
Anybody feeling a bit uncomfortable? I hope not. That's not my intention, but we're all going to go. You'd have to agree with that, right? And when you get to a certain age you are sort of forced to confront the fact. And I have, and I'm reasonably alright with it.
That's because I'm old.
A year or so ago I heard about a death that caused me so much sadness that words are inadequate. I don't think I, or anybody else, should be sanguine about death and especially not when it's the death of someone young. In this case she was not only very young but talented, and using her abilities for the good of her fellow man/woman. She was much loved by a close family, comprising her wonderful parents and equally lovely sisters. A young man adored her, and she him. She was happy and loved life. She was one of the good additions to our tiny, inconsequential planet. And she died, tragically and suddenly, to be much missed by oh so many who had reason to be grateful for her short existence. I wasn't alright with that.
The young, and the very young die every day, due to illness, accidents or acts of violence and none of them are alright.
But I'm old. I've had a good go. Sure, I'd like a few more years. It's not that I'm keen to rush off. But whenever the inevitable happens it'll be no great cause for either surprise or anguish.
It's the way I go that concerns me. The cliche is that we all want to die peacefully, in our own bed. I can see the appeal of that one, but I'm not specifically aiming for it. There are more interesting options. I'd prefer it not to be one of the violent ones, but were I to be snuffed out whilst in the company of loved ones, eating, drinking and laughing my head off, then that'd have to be the favourite. Admittedly, it might put a bit of a damper on the occasion for my fellow diners. Having an old woman suddenly keel over into her linguine might take the edge off their appetites but, honestly, if they felt able to stick me under the table and finish the food and booze before dealing with my remains I'd be all in favour of it.
And that's another thing. As to what happens to those aforementioned mortal remains, I care not a jot. My only stipulation is that disposal costs as little as possible. I'd be content with landfill. Why should I care? I won't be there. I'll just leave some money in my will for all my nearest and dearest to have a knees up. That's the only memorial I need.
If they happened to play Kirsty McColl singing 'In These Shoes?' that'd be nice. But they don't have to.
They can fight it out amongst themselves over my stuff. If anyone really wants a pile of old tat they're welcome to it.
Back to my demise. I'd really love a spectacular end, something on the lines of being discovered in a drugs den in the arms of my much younger lover, but I've got to be realistic. As the nearest I get to drugs these days is a couple of codeine when my dicky hip's playing up that scenario's really unlikely.
Another possibility is that I'll succumb to a dread disease, or just become enfeebled by age, and this is where I start to get a bit anxious.
I see it much in the same light as being stuck at some dreary party. If I'm not having fun then I don't want to stick around. Call me a cab and I'm out of there.
Is that selfish? I'm not sure. I don't deliberately want to upset anyone who cares about me but it's my life so I reckon it's largely my affair.
I sincerely hope that if, for some reason, I'm not able to administer the fatal dose myself, then a kindly hand might intervene and assist me to my much desired repose. My innately independent nature dictates that I'd far rather deal with the matter myself. I don't want to burden anyone else with it, especially if there's a chance they'll get slung into penal servitude as a result. But if I've been rendered helpless it'd be a comfort to know that someone's going to take care of it for me.
Or, at the very least, don't keep me going when there's really no good reason to. Just because we have the technology and medication it doesn't mean we have to use it.
Naturally, I've heard all the arguments against euthanasia and of course we have to protect the disabled and the demented. I don't want anyone going when they don't want to. And I'm a tremendous advocate of the theory that we're not all supposed to be the same in the first place. I'm all for variety. Anyone who doesn't embrace diversity has to be half dead already in my book.
I have 'disabled' friends who are living fuller, happier and more purposeful lives than many of the able-bodied wastes of a skin that have crossed my path. I'm very much talking individual choice here. And I reckon that's a human right.
I think we all know it already happens, but the caring souls who currently assist the suffering out of their misery put themselves at risk. So I signed that petition. And I hope it prompts this clever, amazing world, where we can now routinely cure diseases that were once inevitably fatal, and improve the quality of life of so many with ever-developing drugs, to acknowledge that there are times to step back from trying to prolong life and help it to end, gently and with love.
Thanks for reading my blog.
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