Quality of life and death.

Sir Terry Pratchett has made a good case for helping people who no longer have 'quality of life'.
Watching him on Breakfast tv this morning made me think of my parents, my father died of stomach cancer, it closed off the top of his stomach so he could not eat, he spent his last days looking like a Belsen victim, gradually starving to death while loaded with morphine for the pain.
I held his hand wishing he would die, just to stop his pain.

My mother died of colonic cancer four years later, but that was not the problem, for the last few months of her life she had no idea of where or who she really was, for the last two years of her life she dropped in and out of reality, sometimes believing the second world war was still going on. At other times she was just completely confused as to anything around her. She was also in pain from the cancer, like my father she was on a multitude of drugs, some of which I am sure did not help the situation. While she was still able to comprehend the world around her, even if only for a few days at a time, she was worth holding on to, but in the last six months of her life she was not my mother, she was a stranger who rambled on about nothing, she kept crying in pain and wept for her lost husband. Did we have the right to keep her in that condition? I know she would have wanted to stay alive as long as possible, she believed in god and I think that belief would not have allowed her to finish her life. But what if she had already discussed this when she was well? What if she knew what was going to happen and did not want to live past the point of no return?

Should we hold on to our loved ones when they have no quality of life? Should we keep dragging them back when they are not the same person we once knew? My wishes are well known to my other half, if my quality of life is so bad that I can no longer function as a human being or I am no longer recognisable as 'me', then I want to die. I have no wish to spend my last days as a vegetable or a useless lump of flesh, as long as my brain functions normally and I can at least read and communicate, then fine, but once that line is crossed then I do not want to live.

I am not talking about some minor injury, I have mates who have no legs and and except for the fact they wont go to the bar for their round, they are fine people, I used to know a bloke with a broken back, he was paralysed from the neck down, yet once he got over the shock managed quite well with the help of his wife. His brain functions were fine and he lived for 5 years like that, he finally fell prey to pneumonia.

When someone has left clear and plain instructions, when they have made their wishes clear as to how they want to die in dignity and not be kept alive if they have no quality of life, who are we to go against their wishes. I think the main fear is that older people will be pressured into it by unscupulous relatives, yet surely we can put enough safeguards in place to alleviate that worry?


What right do we have to prolong someones life once they have made the decision to die?
You could argue that someone who wants to die is not in their right mind, I can agree with that in a few cases, yet there are many many people who are completely sane and have the same desire as me, we want the right to be in control of our own bodies and destiny. Who really wants to suffer in the last days of their life? I would rather go quietly at a time of my own chosing, than fade away slowly in pain or with no concious idea of the world around me.

A really good article.
http://www.guardian.co.uk/society/2004/may/25/health.medicineandhealth

Tell them now.

Back in the late 70's there was a group of us on motorbikes, the group changed, people came and went, in the beginning though their were 40 of us, all around the same age. Today I heard that one of the original group died from a heart attack in his local pub. That means there are now only 5 of us left, I have no idea about 3 of them, Tony, who informed me of the death of Ray, has had no reply from the email address'es of the other 3. We have to assume that they are still alive though.

Tony and myself and in our early 50's now, this does not bode well for our odds, we did live hard early lives though, 1 of our number was shot dead over a drug deal in Columbia, two were stabbed etc, but strangely only a few died from motorcycle accidents, most died from heroin.

I was very lucky not to end up as an addict, it could so easily gone the other way for me, hearing about the guys go one by one over the years, it does not really sink in, but after my heart scare in January (false alarm) the reality of my advancing years is sinking in. For a long time now I have accepted that one day I shall no longer exist, not believing in a god or an afterlife means that when I die, thats it. Nothing. Having accepted that there is no afterlife for me has made me want to make the most of my life on earth, I treat most people as I would like to be treated and try to enjoy as much of life as I can, there are still places I would like to see, people to meet and new experiences to ..... experience.
My life has been a roller coast ride, there have been some scary downs and some very spectacular highs, I have never regretted anything I have done, you cant go back and you cant catch up, look at your own life, have you done anything to be really proud of? I hope so, most people waste their lives in the pursuit of what they believe will bring happiness, I no longer need to find that elusive piece of nonsense, realising that just to be content is enough.

Let me once more see a spectacular sunset, feel the road as I corner on my bike at high speed, enjoy the camaraderie of good friends, the love of a good woman, the taste of a fine wine. These may be small pleasures to you, but they make my life what it is, tell the people you love that you do love them, tell your friends that you are proud to know them, do it now, while you can, for tomorrow may not be for you.

Jake

The Dance of Death

You have your Ipod blaring tinny music into your ears, you are wearing those trendy sunglasses with the big bits at the sides so you can only see forwards. You are concentrating on listening to the latest pap about living in the ghetto, churned out by musicians who take a limo to the studio.
This is when you enter the ‘Dance of Death’ with your world firmly closeted around you, you step off of the pavement straight in to the path of my 600lb motorcycle.
The (luckily for you) very loud Fiaam horn breaks through your bubble to inform you that the rapidly approaching object WILL KILL YOU!

Thus begins the ‘Dance of Death’, forward onto the left foot, then back onto the right, repeat this action faster and faster so you end up looking a bit like someone from Riverdance, but with no style. As indecision cuts in, fear starts to push harder and harder, which way will the bike go? Which way should I go?

Paralysed, you just freeze as the front end of the bike dives hard, the rear wheel starts to leave the ground and at the last second I flip the bike around the back of you and skid to a halt.
What is your reaction? You start shouting abuse, swearing and flipping me the middle finger, it then dawns slowly that the bloke you are giving all this abuse to is walking towards you, wearing an armoured jacket, denim cutoff, black crash helmet and wearing armoured gloves, people on the pavement start taking bets on your survival rate. Your heart rate goes through the roof, the fight or flight adrenaline takes over and your survival instinct cuts in, you run away, and in those stupid trousers that hang lower than your knees, you run like a girl.

I raise the front half of my helmet and laughingly bow to the audience on the pavement, one man starts applauding, within seconds 15 people are clapping and laughing, one even cheered, what a great start to my day.

Stay safe out there

Jake