Death with dignity...coming soon to a city near you.

If and when anyone reads this post, death with dignity, aka euthanasia or suicide may be legal in your city or state.  Let's start from the top on this morbid topic.

First of all, death with dignity is possible with every death.  You don't have to take a deadly cocktail to make your death dignified.  On the other hand, death with dignity may not be dignified after all.  When we hear about these deaths, we aren't really privy to the details of such.  Did the person become nauseated?  Was there emesis?  Were they incontinent of bowel and bladder?  Did they have seizure activity?  Did their mouths hang open and spill contents on their bedding?  It's hard to believe that all we see with this type of death are some shallow respirations and then Poof!  It's over.  Tell us how this is "dignity."

Secondly, is calling death with dignity any better than calling it suicide?  Of course suicide is precisely what is occurring. The intentional well planned out taking of one's own life.  Should we stop using euphemisms and call it what it is?  Why not?  Is the word suicide offensive to us?  If so, why?

Could it be because killing oneself is inherently wrong?  "Well, not if."  Where do the "not if's" end?  Not if you are terminally ill.  Not if you might suffer.  Not if you don't want to live that way.  Not if there is no cure.  Not if you are old.  Not if you are too young.  Not if you are beautiful and don't want to become old and ugly.  Not if you are....

Slippery slope?  Oh yes.

Why shouldn't a person be allowed to kill themselves, to end their life, to avoid potential suffering or loss of dignity?  To answer that we need to know whether or not life matters.

I think most of us agree that life matters.  Life matters because it is a gift.  Life matters because it is how the species propagates.  Life matters because there is potential for greatness.  Life matters because there is beauty.  Life matters because there is love.

It's an interesting paradox that once a baby is born, the life of the baby matters.  Doctors, parents, will do nearly anything to help a baby survive.  Why should this be?  Is a baby valuable?  Of course.  Why?  Because the baby matters.  The baby matters to his or her parents.  The baby has potential.  The baby matters because it is alive.

But what about an old person?  An old person with cancer?  Does their life matter?  Of course it does.  Why?  Because they are a person.  The same person they were when they were a baby.  A human being.  Alive.  The worth of the old person does not diminish because of years.  It does not diminish because the person has an illness.  There is dignity in every person.  No matter how old.  No matter how young.  No matter how sick.

Dignity is the honor or respect one has of his self worth.  If you are a baby, you can't contribute to society.  You can't work.  You can't even feed yourself.  But you are so valuable, you have dignity, you have inestimable worth.  If you are old and dying of cancer, your worth does not change.  Your dignity, your honor is still yours.  You have value in your living.  You as a human are beyond price.

Should you kill yourself?  No.  You don't deserve to die because you are sick.  You don't need to end your life to end your suffering.  Modern medicine can control your suffering.  You don't need to kill yourself because you are afraid you will get sicker, or that you will be in pain or that you will LOSE YOUR DIGNITY.

Your dignity is your worth as a human being.  It is priceless.  It doesn't change when you become ill.  You are still worthy of life, your presence in the world is needed until you die.

Why should society convince you that you should have control over when you die?  How is that a right?  You didn't have control over when you were born.  You didn't have control of becoming terminally ill.  So many things are beyond human control, and we don't say "But I had a right to know that I would get sick.  I had a right to know I was going to be born."  We accept certain things are what they are, uncertain.

Who has told us we can't live until we die?  Who has made it ok to change the word suicide to "death with dignity?"  If we can't say the very word that is what is actually occurring when we make the choice to take those pills, maybe it's time to think about why we are taking them.


to be continued...

There she was in her late nineties, with terrible end stage congestive heart failure.  Coupled with that she had fractured a neck vertebra and had had a stroke.  Thrown in for good measure were a few seizures every now and then.  But none of that mattered.  She was the boss.

She ruled her family with an iron fist even though her children were in their seventies themselves.  No matter, they bowed to any wish or desire she had.  When I admitted her, she could barely write but the family would not sign the papers for her.  "Oh no, Mother wants to do it herself."  

She wasn't keen on having strangers invading her home.  She allowed me in as a favor to me.  Certainly she didn't need hospice care.  "I can't wait until I can drive again" was one of her favorite threats letting me and her family know that as soon as that happened, we would be left behind.

Spring turned to summer and she got worse.  Much, much worse.  Her body swelled up with fluid and she could hardly breathe.  "If only I could just walk around more I'd feel better."  She smiled and the room lit up as she pondered her future.  "I need to exercise more."  "Are you having pain Margaret?"I asked as she surveyed her kingdom.  "Well, sometimes my neck hurts" she acquiesced.

In the fall she started to sleep more.  "I'm just so tired." She stopped asking about driving.  "I need to walk more" she'd lament as debility started to take her over.  

Christmas came and she smiled again.  "Look at that tree!" she proudly boasted.  "It's beautiful."  I looked and saw an old tree with mismatched lights and ornaments that did the seventies proud.  "Yes," I agreed, "it is."   

As the new year started she slept even more.  Sometimes two days in a row.  Then three.  She'd wake up and be fine for a few days, then repeat the cycle.  Sleep, sleep, repeat.  Her appetite decreased.

"I'm worried."  "What are you worried about Margaret?"  "I don't want to die."  Silence.  There was nothing I could say.  She was going to die.  She was beginning to die.  She knew she was dying.  

One day she didn't get out of bed.  And then two days turned into three.  Three into four.  She didn't eat.  "Water."  "Get me water."  Days turned into weeks.  No food.  Just water.  And sleep.  She slept. And with sleep she stopped worrying.

When she died I was slightly shocked at how hard her family cried.  After all, she was nearly a hundred years old.  She'd been sick for so very long.  Surely they should'nt have to cry so hard.

But they did.  And suddenly, so did I.  

Another long absence

While I have had strange dreams involving cars, driving, snow, not being able to find my way in the city with so many freeways and bridges.
What does it all mean?  I have no clue.

Hospice is still wonderful.  After so many years doing so many other things in nursing, this.......is what it was all for.  I was getting ready, being shaped, molded and formed into the nurse I became.  So that I could be the nurse I am.

I love my patients.  LOVE them.  Talking to them, listening to them, being with them.  It's wonderful and perfect and I still thank God every single day for this gift.

When I realized

that no matter what I had, it wasn't enough.  No matter how much I bought, I needed something more.  So many relationships ended looking for something better, places lived left, people thrown away, nothing ever was the right or best thing.   It led me to the certain knowledge that what I need is not something I can buy or move to or break up with to find another. 


I need the comfort, the love, the fulfillment that comes only from Him.  I want Him.  I need Him.  But in this world, it's so very hard to feel Him or be with Him or think of Him with all the distraction. I want to push and shove everything out of the way so there is nothing left but Him. 


But I can't.  I have to live here, function here, be present here.  I have to drive and fill out paperwork and interact with people and do laundry.


 Maybe then, it is a gift to be one of the dying.  To have finally the time to ponder, to think of Him, to pray, to lay in the comfort of His embrace and look forward to your destiny with the One who can replace the longings you have tried so desperately to fulfill.


I hope that is so.......

If I don't get it out

I will fall apart.  I am so angry inside I feel like bursting.  Imagine going along down a road, a pleasant road with many little side trips.  You stop in a small village, meet wonderful people from all walks of life and then drive a bit farther and meet some more.  You go on like this until one day, just as you round a corner, BAM!  You get hit from the side by a car you never saw coming.  That is what happened this week at work.  My wonderful, pleasant job suddenly turned into a nightmare.  Today I made the mistake of checking up on the situation and there it was.  Still as ugly as ever.


Why is life this way?  Why is work this way?  No one was doing anything intentionally wrong, and out of the blue, things are destroyed.  People are hurt.  Emotions are wounded.  Life is dimmer.

Now, I feel so apathetic.  A thing I have not felt since I began this road trip two years ago.  Dear God, help me. 

In two years it's the first time

that I ever thought maybe this isn't the job for me.  But NOT because of my patients.  I still think they are wonderful.  It's management.  Their games.  Their idiocy.  Their judgments.  I don't want to sound bitter but I probably will.  I try so hard to do a good job.  My only goal, the ONLY thing I want, is for my patients to be happy.  That's it.  I have no ulterior motives, I don't care about money, the hours, the benefits.  Nothing matters except them.  NOTHING.  So when I try my hardest to help a patient I don't expect that I will be chastised, accused, slandered.  But that's what happened.  And for the first time, I wanted to just 
give
up. 

 

 

HELP ME

to understand that the world is filled with people who have ulterior motives.  I don't even care what their motives are, but when I am somehow involved in their grand schemes, it makes me uber unhappy. 

Today I got four phone calls after an initial phone call ten minutes before.  Mind you this was not an urgent phone call but because I had waited an astronomical TEN MINUTES without responding, four phone calls and two voice messages resulted.

ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MINDS????????  What if I had been with a patient?  Does anyone think that sometimes you just MIGHT be busy and it might take you longer than ten minutes to respond to a message? 

O. M.  GOSH. 

So I tried repeatedly to say something to my manager about this and I got:

Relax and have a margarita. 

O. M.  GOSH.

So here is what I learned today.

You must answer phone calls rapidly or you will be pelted with unnecessary phone calls that interfere with you trying to answer the call, make a call to reply, or listen to a voice message.

You cannot complain about the excessive phone calls because you are seen as being just too darn uptight and you need a drink.

Nice.