I have been thinking a lot about euthanasia lately, mainly because of the many people that talk about it, and somewhat because I myself have numerous chronic and painful health issues. As a result I have done a great deal of soul searching. I have thought about whom it could affect and how, and about what it would really accomplish vs. what one might what it to accomplish; not only for the one considering it, but also for those they love.
whenever the subject of euthanasia arises there seem to be three main questions that come up time and time again. To begin with, can euthanasia be considered as a merciful act or is it simply the de-valuing of human life? Secondly, can one who is even considering ending there life, really be trusted to not be depressed and or be in the right frame of mind? and thirdly, is it, or should it be legal?
In thinking about whether or not euthanasia could be considered as a merciful or de-valuing, I must first determine at least two things. What is mercy, and what is the value of human life. In my endeavour to answer these questions logically, I started in the most logical place I could think of, for this reason I consulted the Merriam/Webster Dictionary.
According to Webster, mercy means; a) compassion / mercy shown to an offender, i.e. prison vs. death, b) a blessing resulting from divine favour, or c) compassion shown to victims of misfortune. Because it is clear that one who is ill would never be considered as an offender just cause of sickness, and death by human hands should by no means be considered divine intervention, (As divine means God or Godly,) it becomes obvious that the only meaning that could apply to euthanasia it, c) compassion / mercy shown to victims of misfortune.
compassion / mercy however are very subjective because one may show it by choosing to help an individual get through seemingly impossible times and another may show it by choosing to help one eliminate those times. There is an old saying that goes like this; "give a man fish and you feed him for a day, teach him to fish and you feed him for life" who then is right, which act is merciful / compassionate? You pick, as I said. mercy and compassion are very subjective.
The word value means either to, a) estimate monetary worth, or b) rate in usefulness, importance of general worth. Concerning value, can one be really put a monetary amount on human life? if this were possible, I myself would consider human life to be priceless, As far as rating oneself, or another goes, again this is very subjective, it might all depend on the mood the person is in. Isn't it true that often we feel that we accomplish much more on one giving day than on another, yet we do the same amount of work.
And as far for the value that others attach to us, let me share with you this little tale.
I remember a time when I was hospitalized many years ago with a serious condition. An elderly woman who spoke no English was admitted in the bed directly across from me. As I watched the woman it became very apparent to me that she was quite frightened by her up-coming surgery. She spent many long hours sitting on her bed, with what I presumed was some kind of prayer beads, praying. Even though she never spoke a word to me nor did she knowingly, or consciously ever communicate with me, the influence that she had on me was overwhelming. Just watching her inspired me to take stock of my own position on faith and as a result I will never forget the impact she had on me. Probably, she never recognised the merit of what she did for me. And others, no doubt, will not see that she did indeed help me; still nonetheless there was a great value in what it did for me. So on question number one there is, possibly, only one point out of five that could actually be applied to euthanasia.
Now for the second question: Can someone seriously consider ending his or her life without being depressed? I wonder how many of the chronically ill have never had to press on through what seamed like unendurable times? Struggling with feelings of hopelessness and loss of control, go hand-in-hand with many unrelenting long-lasting conditions, or for that matter, sometimes even with the short-lived ones. Illness or pain of any kind sort of remind me of a toothache, it doesn't have to be life threatening to cause disruption and distress. Ongoing pain of any intensity can cause as much despair as severe pain, Fever alone can cause enough fatigue and distress to bring about feelings of misery and hopelessness.
I asked a psychiatrist about suicide and he told me that generally it is simply an attempt to stop pain, be it emotional or physical. Most people who attempt suicide would choose to continue life if they could only end the pain they were in. I myself have suffered through bouts of depression and I must admit that, at times, death seemed as though it was only way for me to stop the pain. However, I must also say that during less painful and stressful time I am glad that my will to survive was stronger that my yearning for death.
the first time we try to do something is always the hardest, but each time thereafter it gets easier. I sense that once a person has seriously considered ending there life, from that moment on, it will always be an option. And after they have actually tried it once, and failed, the risk for a second attempt is much greater. There is no way to un-think or un-experience something, be it good or bad. No matter how much counselling a formerly, abused child receives he/she can never un-learned the experience. Something like un-crying tears, they can never be taken back. But like turning tears into laughter they can however, re-train the mind to better cope with the future.
As a living being we all have a basic built in survival instinct. As tiny babies, the will to lives is a powerful force. Even unhealthy babies will survive the most horrendous of challenges. This I know because not only did I witness the birth and development of a premature infant, but also I myself was very premature. Many times my mother recounted the story of my own birth and growth and I feel it is significantly relevant to this topic so I will share it with you.
When I was born, (in the '50s,) I arrived very early. I was due the end of October but for some reason decided that the beginning of July was nicer. In fact I was so early and so small that the doctor had to rupture the membranes after i was delivered. My farther said I didn't weigh much more than a pound of butter. Incubators were few and far between but to tell you the truth, the hospital I was born in did have one. The problem was they were holding it for a set of twins due any moment. The doctors decided that since my chance of survival was so poor they didn't want to risk putting me in the incubator and then not having it available for the twins when they arrived. Therefor they told my mother that she could just leave me there and they would notify her upon my demise, probably later that day. Thankfully, my mother took me home within hours of my birth.
During my first few hours of life my bed was a six-quart apple basket, blankets and all. But when my mother realised my body could not hold a constant temperature she was forced to hold me all the time in order to keep me warm. This proved very tiring for her and so I ended up spending the first several weeks strapped tightly between my mothers breasts by a flannel sheet she wound tightly around herself. Because of my tiny size and weakened state she had t feed me by dripping the end of a washcloth in breastmilk and letting me suckle on it. Mom said I ate only about a tablespoon of milk each time she offered it to me. My Dad said that diaper changes proved to be the real challenge though.
She told me about one time when I got a cold. She figured the only reason I survived it was God's mercy and her smarts! She made a kind of tent out of the kitchen table with a blanket flung over it, then she placed me under it. She sat the kettle on top of the old wood stove and used rolled up newspapers to funnel the steam into the homemade tent. Fortunately for me, it worked, and I continued to thrive and grow.
In order to prove the doctor wrong, when I reached the six-week age my mother took me back to him for my checkup. The doctor could not believe his eyes. He even went so far as to tell my mother that there was no way this was the same baby she left with. he was sure that she had someone else's baby and tat I indeed had died. He was probably never so wrong in his whole life as he was at that moment.
Then about 3 years ago my neice gave birth to a bouncing baby boy. Born fifteen weeks early he weighed in at a strapping 1 pound, nine ounces and was twelve inches long. She called him Julian, after me. The doctors didn't give him much chance of survival either but his will to live, along with technology, and help from above, kept him going and soon he will be three years old (now14). By the way, to date he has no serious health problems and he catching up just fine in his size.
My great nephew was hospitalised for three months and during that time I spent many hours in the intensive car ward with him. When I was around all those tiny babies and ailing children I never heard one of them complaining about how hopeless or useless they felt. More often then not, as adults, we gain great courage from children who are experiencing tremendous burdens. we see how much these children are going trough and yet somehow they can still muster a smile and a laugh. We often learn much just watching these children.
I wonder how much of our feelings of uselessness come from our own, or others miss guided expectations of life. Who, or what is it, that dictates to those who are ill how useful, or useless, they really are? And could it be that perhaps hopelessness is linked to pain? Perhaps if we learned better pain management, both physical and emotional, hopelessness would loosen it's grip on us. I know that the less pain I have the better my day is. Not only that but the better my outlook is for tomorrow as well.
To Determine if euthanasia should be legalised I felt I needed to clear up one general term that is sometimes used when talking about it. Mercy killing, it is a phrase that is often interchanged with the word euthanasia. Once again I looked in the trusted dictionary to see what I could glean from it. We already have learned that mercy is very subjective so I looked up the word kill/killing. What I found of course, among other things, is that it means to deprive of life, use up, mark for omission, murder, slay, etc.. Deprive is always used in meaning to take something away, and murder is the same as the dictionary meaning for homicide which is, a) a person who kills another or, b) a killing of one human being by another. There is no mention of the reason for it; it is simply the act of it. Homicide itself is not considered right or wrong, by the dictionary definition, it is just the act of killing. Not subjective at all really.
Even if we legalised homicide/euthanasia, the reason for killing of one person by another will still remain very subjective, to either the person who is dying or the person who is killing. My investigation has brought me to the conclusion that all aspects of euthanasia seem to be very biased one side or the other. Either way I wouldn't want to take the chance that I myself or someone else was truly in the right frame of mind, to pre-meditate my death.
So what is the meaning of life anyway? Well according to Webster it is the physical and emotional experiences of an individual, be they good or bad. Our outlook on life is based on either how we value humans just because they are human and not because of what they contribute, or how successful they are, in someones else's eyes, less people would consider suicide or euthanasia.
The answer to my last question then becomes simple. Should euthanasia be legal? Not as far as I'm concerned because, I personally have decided that it is nothing short of murder.
Julie Myatt (Julie Senechal)
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With a flick of her head her long hair flew back. Her jaw was set straight, the determination on her face was almost a defiance. He had told her she would never amount to anything but she was more sure of herself now than ever before, She had come a long way from then, but the echo of his voice still boomer in her head. She had learned to recognize his lies even when he was screaming at her. The louder he got the more determined she became.
With a glance of his eyes he can see what needs to be done. With brush in hand he sets out to complete his work. Stet by step, stroke by stroke he begins his work.
She awoke the next day refreshed and ready for the day ahead. Some how she'd managed to stay warm and dry through the night. The storm had turned the morning sky into a burst of yellow and reds. How beautiful the colors looked as they peeked through the forest. She began to stir, ever do gently she stood and shook the sleep from her mind. Things were much clearer now. In the brightness of the morning sky things didn't seem so scary. she began to look around for some path or landmark that would give her a clue as to which way home was. She hadn't strayed too far when she came across a path that would be the beginning of her long journey home. It wasn't much but it was a glimmer of hope and that's all it took for her. As she started along the narrow path she began to see things that were familiar to her, a tree here, a rock there. Before long she was in her territory again. she emerged from the thick tree victorious. She had done it, Home was just over the hill. Familiar sights and sounds are one of the most wonderful things when you've been away for awhile. It was truly good to be going home.
She sits alone in the darkness, scared and crying and wondering how and when she will find her way out or if it will ever happen. The smell of dirt and moss overwhelm her. The night sounds try hard to drown her thoughts. She's not sure how she got there, it was such a nice day when she started out, the sun was shining bright, the forest was so enticing, almost calling her to it, she just resist. But something happened and she wasn't paying attention to where she was or how far she'd gone and then the sun disappeared and the clouds rolled in. Darkness was now all around her, cold and unfeeling. She struggled to find her way out, turning and running this way and that, but the further she went the more confusing her journey became. It was so dark now she could no longer see the sky. It was like a dark tunnel with no light in sight and she was falling faster and faster. She was searching for a handle to grasp, something, anything would do but there was nothing in sight, no way to get a grip on anything.