Posted by jujube on February 13, 2005, at 16:07:55
In reply to Can euthanasia be an act of love? (trigger), posted by Toph on February 13, 2005, at 15:37:44
It is a difficult decision, but I think euthanasia is a self-less act and can be an act of love. You mentioned that your SO said she couldn't do it not because of religious convictions, but because she couldn't stand to lose you. I guess the question I would have is if a person is being kept alive by life support, haven't the loved ones already lost the person? Sure, there is the chance of a miracle, but how often does that happen (I don't mean to sound cynical because I very often see the world through rose-coloured glasses). I don't know, but I don't want my last memories of a person I loved to be of them lying incapacitated, uncommunicative and unresponsive in a hospital bed being kept alive by machines. Or to see them living, day in and day out, with excrutiating pain and having to take high doses of morphine, etc. just to be able to *tolerate* existing (I won't say *living* because there comes a point, I think, when a person who is dying is no longer living but merely existing). Anyway, I want to remember my loved ones, and I want them to remember me, as the vivrant independent.
I have had this discussion with friends for years now, and have even had such a discussion with my boss on a number of occasions. So, I guess I would have to say that I am in favour of euthanasia (with the proper and appropriate regulatory controls - in that makes sense).
> (First, I am tired of continually refering to my spouse as "my wife," can someone tell me if it is wise to call her by her first name, here?)
>
> Post:
> On the way home from "Million Dollar Baby" last night my wife and I were reflecting on the film. I said to her that if I were completely incapacitated and I pleaded to have her relieve me of my suffering, would she? She said that she couldn't not out of any religious conviction, but because she couldn't stand losing me. I took this sentiment as a wonderful early Valentine's gift, but I still hoped that she could find away to carry out my wishes. Then I asked if I were in a persistive vegetative state with vertually no hope for recovery would she let me have a natural death as God intended or would she keep me alive artificially with technology? She said yes, she would probablt remove a respirator and tube feeding because that has been my consistent choice, but that she couldn't bear to think about it as she had been involved with consenting consenting to the administration massive doses of morphine to aleviate the pain of her father's brain tumor hastening his death.
>
> Then coincidently, we read the news of Sarah in this mornings Sunday Tribune. My wife who worked for years as a hospitl social worker experienced a similar miracle before. Assisted suicide, advanced directives and quality of life issues challenge physicians, ethicists and families daily. Here is the news release (it is short):
>
> "Woman silent for 20 years calls to say `Hi, Mom'"
>
> Associated Press
> Published February 13, 2005
>
>
> HUTCHINSON, Kan. -- Sarah Scantlin was an 18-year-old college freshman on Sept. 22, 1984, when she was hit by a drunken driver as she walked to her car after celebrating with friends at a teen club.
>
> Since then she has been mostly oblivious to the world around her, able only to blink her eyes to respond to questions no one knew for sure she understood.
>
> But a week ago, her parents got a call from Jennifer Trammell, a licensed nurse at the Golden Plains Healthcare Center. Trammell asked Betsy Scantlin if she was sitting down, told her someone wanted to talk to her and switched the phone to speaker mode:
>
> "Hi, Mom."
>
> "Sarah, is that you?" her mother asked.
>
> "Yes," came the throaty reply.
>
> "How are you doing?"
>
> "Fine."
>
> "Do you need anything?" her mother asked her later.
>
> "More makeup."
>
> "Did she just say more makeup?" Scantlin's mother asked the nurse.
>
> Scantlin started talking in mid-January but asked staff members not to tell her parents until Valentine's Day, Trammell said. But last week she could not wait any longer to talk to them.
>
> The breakthrough came when the nursing home's activity director was working with Scantlin and a few other patients, trying to get them to speak. After another patient said "OK," Scantlin repeated: "OK. OK."
>
> A speech therapist then intensified work with Scantlin. Scantlin's doctor, Bradley Scheel, said critical pathways in the brain may have regenerated. But, he added, "It is extremely unusual to see something like this happen."
>
> Jim Scantlin understands that his daughter probably will never leave the health-care center, but he is grateful for her improvement.
>
> "They have given me my daughter back," he said.
>
>
> Copyright © 2005, Chicago Tribune
>
> Toph
>
> Please leave this here Bob as it involves decisions involving loved ones.
>
poster:jujube
thread:457210
URL: http://www.dr-bob.org/babble/relate/20050212/msgs/457221.html