I can “hope” that as I get older I don’t get Alzheimers or have a stroke or suffer any of the afflictions that cause pain and suffering or loss of autonomy. I can hope.
I’ve always been ridiculously proactive about things. From the time I was a little girl, my parents taught me to make my own future; put into place now the foundation for events that I’d like to have happen in the future. It’s how I got to Africa when I was 16; how I purchased my own house before I was 35; how I owned my own business at age 40. Those events didn’t happen because I “hoped” they would. They happened because I laid the foundation for each of them and actively worked to build on it.
Hope is not a plan. I do my best to keep healthy, but I cannot control what may ultimately “do me in.” There is a host of chronic, progressive physical disabilities that I may succumb to (COPD is what I live with now), most involving intractable physical pain. To simply hope that I die a good death isn’t a good plan, especially since the odds don’t favor it.
But it is a basic human right to choose to end one’s life when a person judges the quality of their life to be unacceptable. This right by its nature implies that the ending of one’s life is one’s choice, including the timing and persons present, and should be free of any restrictions by the law, clergy, medical profession, and even friends and relatives no matter how well-intentioned.
To the extent that I can increase the likelihood of dying peacefully, with dignity, with autonomy, I need to lay the foundation now and build actively on it as I grow into my senior years.
To this end, I’ve done a few proactive things:
I educated myself about ways to end my life peacefully and with dignity. The best resources can be found in the book Final Exit: The Practicalities of Self-Deliverance and Assisted Suicide for the Dying and the book Five Last Acts – The Exit Path:The arts and science of rational suicide in the face of unbearable, unrelievable suffering (click images to link to Amazon).
- I purchased the helium tanks and other equipment that are required to end my life using helium. Two or three breathes of helium in the absence of oxygen will cause immediate unconsciousness and cessation of life shortly thereafter. Other less complicated methods require drugs that cannot be legally purchased in the U.S. or a trip to Switzerland or establishing residence in one of the few U.S. states that allow physician-assisted death.
- I joined the Final Exit Network (http://www.finalexitnetwork.org/). In the event I have a terminal illness, they will provide a compassionate person to be with me if I choose to end my life before the suffering makes it intolerable.
I have been surprised at how having a good plan reduces the stress of worrying about something I can’t control. I am in no way suicidal; I enjoy my life, and every day brings a beauty and spiritual grace that gives me joy. But like all long-term goals, part of the process of getting there is adjusting one’s attitude and thinking. Americans are unwilling to talk about their own death or even think about it. I talk about my plan to a lot of friends, and I can see that although they respect my right to feel the way I do, they are uncomfortable hearing me talk about it.
Just as my parents taught me to lay a good foundation for my life, they have always been open and forthright in talking about death and their plans for their own deaths. They’ve involved me in the preparation of several drafts of their wills; in their choice of donating their bodies to Science Care (http://www.sciencecare.com/) for medical research, education, and training; and in discussions about their eventual funerals. So it is not surprising that I have the tools I need to help me prepare for my own death.
I have a plan and it gives me hope.