I understand what you're saying, Thomas. I think the problem is, however, that we've thoroughly domesticated ourselves. What I mean is this-- the natural order of things tends to be a quick end to life once one gets old or seriously ill. Before modern medicine, most people died before the prolonged and agonizing illness such as Alzheimer's and cancer. We hang on now because we've already taken the step to "play God" and extend our lifespan through artificial means. The line between artificial and natural is blurred as we make "living" dependent on medications, surgeries, machines, transplants, etc.
Washington state recently voted on a Death with Dignity act and it passed with a 60% margin. Soon, if you have 6 months or less to live and the proper medical certification, you can choose a lethal dose of... think it's sleeping medication... to end your life early rather than suffer. My thoughts?
Well, I doubt I'd use it. I find a certain purpose in suffering, and I've suffered quite a bit from a chronic condition that, when out of control, causes extreme pain. I've learned to deal with it and found that there is some value I can find there, despite never wishing acute episodes on myself or anyone else. However, I don't think that means I should force my views on suffering and dignity to anyone else. Some people find a terminal illness an opportunity to slowly withdraw, detach, go within, and transition to the next life. Some find some peace in familial relationships, and some family members find peace in care-taking. Other people I've worked with through hospice had no family, suffered alone in state-sponsored nursing homes, and died alone. Except for someone like me who volunteered through hospice to go in and sit with them, hold their hand, talk to them... they'd be treated like machines who were hopeless, at the junkyard waiting to be thrown into the crusher. Sad, but true. Little dignity there once dementia set in. Still, Western biomedicine had its way, and those who were deemed mentally incompetent due to dementia and had no family advocates were shocked again and again back to life, only to suffer again and again from pneumonia and terminal illness, all with a complete lack of their own understanding of the value or meaning behind these actions.
I will never, ever forget Lily, who was not a patient of mine but grabbed me one day and ushered me into her shared room. Staring into my eyes, desperate, pleading... she asked me to help her go. I still cry thinking about it. There's a lot to it. I'd been with several patients who were drifting in and out of this world, who were labeled by the doctors as having dementia but (to me) obviously were ready to die and were with their loved ones who had already passed, but were consistently brought back and so unable to go. Each day I went, I'd sit with them, and listen to their happy discussion of their visits with dead husbands, mothers, and so forth... and their agonizing frustration and being brought back to their bodies again and again, unable to move on until their last bit of energy was spent and the body refused technology's grasp. I did not judge. I did not treat them like they had dementia. I listened. I do not know if they talked amongst themselves when I was gone, or how they perceived me. But Lily thought I was an angel. She did not ask me to kill her or assist her suicide. She thought I had the power to release her in a way that would not allow her to return. She was desperate, and why she saw me this way, I will never know. But it broke my heart to tell her I couldn't, that due to legality and lack of family, she was doomed to be in that body until biomedicine had no longer been able to call her spirit back.
So...
I do not judge another's choice in death. It is not my place. We each must deal with our own physical condition, the former choices we have made, and the surrounding legality of our final days.
I know that if I had a disease that was likely to land me in Lily's place, or Sarah's, or any other of the patients I had sat with and watched, helpless, as they fought toward death rather than being allowed to go... I'd take the chance, long before I was deemed demented and unwanted but somehow greatly desireable as a medical experiment in futility, and head out into the woods or if this were an impossibility, I'd fast. I would not kill myself through artificial means, but I'd let nature take its course. I'd not go so gently that I gave up what I believe is the potential for a calm, self-possessed, and transcendent transition to the next life. I'd not take a pill and go in my sleep. But neither would I give up my humanity and become a machine for science to poke at.
It's a deeply individual choice, this. I voted yes. I deeply believe it is not for the government to make decisions about such things, nor should it be imposed upon us by any church or religion. A "yes" vote does not mean I do not respect life, or that I am unwilling to suffer, or that I negate the potential value in doing so. It means that I recognize the complex circumstances that yield the dying experience, and that I recognize the free will and humanity of each dying person, and I affirm their right to their own life and death on their own terms. Such choices are between the individual and God.
Also like an extra two months of healing. 
's in the mail with all the necessities.)
