This morning (15/05/2009) there was a very interesting programme on SABC about this, and I can’t help but feel that the programme only scratched the surface of this fascinating question. Of course, there are good reasons both for and against this, and let me say at the outset that voluntary euthanasia, if it were made legal in this country, could be abused. But then so can most laws be abused if one really wants to find a way….
I think that the strongest argument in favour of this is the one postulated by one of the callers: if we can make an educated decision in favour of euthanizing a favourite pet, then why can’t the same benefit be offered to a human being – a relative, a friend, one who is dear to us? In the case of a pet, we are often called upon to make a very hard decision – hard for us because it means the final end of our relationship with that pet.
Normally we would be guided in this instance by the vet, who would be able to tell us what the chances are for that animal to make a full recovery. We weigh the chances against the expense (because veterinary treatment is expensive) and we make, sometimes reluctantly, a decision.
Why do we not look upon people in the same way? Let me give you an example:
Recently my favourite cat was diagnosed with a potentially life-threatening disease and so, at considerable expense I had him treated because he was still young, and if he could survive he could still look forward to a full lifetime of fun a games in his own feline way. He underwent the treatment and came out of it somewhat better, but not quite the cat that he had been. I only had him back at home for ten days when he started going downhill again and, after taking him back to the vet for further investigation and treatment, I was told that even if he survived a fresh round of expense and suffering, he would never really be able to live a normal life and would have to he under constant care and supervision. I had no choice but to have him put to sleep (as we say). For those of you who have never been this route, it is impossible to explain the angst and soul-searching that this decision puts upon us, and the pain of final separation; but it has to be off-set against the animal’s future. We cannot make a decision based on our own wishes or needs; we have to put the animal first.
My mother, on the other hand, had been diagnosed with breast cancer some years previous to her death. She had continued to live a normal life, undergoing regular check-ups and treatments, and was quite happy, but, knowing what she did as a qualified nurse, she must have known what the final outcome would be. It was made clear to me when she left the day-clinic after one of her check-ups clutching a bottle of morphine solution. In the last months of her life she gradually became weaker and less interested in her surroundings, to the point, where, finally, she was bed-ridden and unable to attend to even her most basic functions. I know how much she hated this, and how pointless she considered the whole exercise to be, because she knew that it could only end in death. On several occasions I looked at the stock of morphine tablets, the bottle of solution, and I asked myself should I put an end to her suffering. If she had been a cat or a dog, I would have done just that; but because she was a human being, I went to every length I could to delay her final demise. Money evaporated like butter against the sun; helpers came to the house and massaged her, dressed her bedsores, chatted to her, while I ran up and down the passage with vomit-bowls and various medications – all of which did little to alleviate her suffering. She was not in great pain, but she must have felt all alone as she faced inevitable death. On several occasions she actually asked me to put an end to her suffering, but I couldn’t.
She ended her life in a nursing home, unable even to turn herself, unaware for a lot of the time of her surroundings, at times unable to recognise me when I visited; it was not a life, nor was it a death. It was something worse, because all she had were her thoughts and fears, her knowledge that sooner or later she would have to cross the threshold into the unknown – and I’m sure she must have thought about it a lot and wondered what lay ahead. Not being a particularly religious person, she was unable to appeal to her God for help; she had only herself.
I often think that the pain and suffering she went through, and the agonies of doubt and fear of loss that I suffered, could so easily have been avoided by the simple administration of a few pills. I would have done it without hesitation for a pet, but I could not do it for her.
I can only hope that when I become terminal, bed-ridden, useless, and alone with my thoughts, someone will be kind enough to slip me an overdose and let me drift peacefully away; that I shall be spared the mental anguish of remembering what life used to be like and off-setting it against the now, and shall be spared the suffering I would go through, as well as seeing the looks of hopelessness or feigned jollity on the faces of my visitors.
We tend to be kind to animals but seldom ever to people because our whole culture, our upbringing, tells us that everyone has the right to life. But surely, whoever thought that one out didn’t mean life in its barest, clinical form, but life as it should be lived.
When we are told that a mother or father, a spouse, a loved-one, has no chance of recovery and can only look forward to a constant downhill struggle like this, even if it does not involve a great deal of physical pain, do we not have the right to allow them to die with dignity? Is it not an act of supreme selfishness that we keep them alive at all costs simply because we are afraid of the final moment of parting? This is surely an instance where we should put their interests above our own, and where we should be able to do so legally and without fear of reprisal.
In my mother’s final weeks, I prayed for death as keenly as she must have done. Each day became yet another treadmill which had to be faced, another uncertainty, another worry, and there was no hope of any pleasant outcome.
Let us put criminals aside; as I said at the beginning, all laws can be abused in one way or another, and this law would be no exception. Yet it is illegal to kill another person in any way at the moment, so there would effectively be no change; the criminal would only need to fear that his act would be found out and that he would be made to pay the price.
But surely, someone who, with love and kindness, administered the overdose, or disconnected the life-support systems, can hardly be regarded as a murderer? Are they not acting in the best interests of the patient and doing what the patient most wants them to do?
I will leave you with a snippet of poetry which my mother used to quote when she knew the end was inevitable:
“Darkling I listen; and, for many a time
I have been half in love with easeful Death,
Call’d him soft names in many a mused rhyme,
To take into the air my quiet breath;
Now more than ever seems it rich to die,
To cease upon the midnight with no pain…….”
(Keats; Ode to a Nightingale)
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