memories

I just read the first entry in this blog from my time as a passionate law student writing a paper on assisted dying in the UK.

So fiery, so passionate, so angry... and still so true.

Singapore is now going through the throes of contemplating assisted dying. And the same old arguments are popping up.

Slippery slope, family members' love and care, value of life. Been there, heard that, rolled my eyes at the nay-sayers.

Dignitas, my dear friends, is called Dignitas for a reason. They let people die with dignity. Perhaps it might abhor you, you who fear death, but sometimes death is the lesser fear... the greater fear is of having a bright, sharp wit, trapped in a body unable to do anything more than drool, piss and shit all over itself. that's what happens when you lose control of your involuntary muscles you know.

Or to have a healthy body... but a mind so ravaged by Alzheimer's that you beat your wife... someone who's loved and cared for you through the best and the worst of times. Is that dignity? Is that a beautiful time of bonding?

It is not the thought that they are dying which brings tears to my eyes, it is the thought that they know not only the pain and suffering which they are going to go through but also that they bring the same upon those closest to them... for who else would care for them in the end times? And at what cost is it provided? A wife who is glad when her husband of 30-odd years finally dies? Is that the cost our society would demand?

Unless the government can provide Christpher Reeve or Michael J. Fox style treatment and care death might be their only dignified path left. Better to pass at a time of your choosing, in possession of your wit, surrounded by people you love who will never grow to hate you.

The years may pass but convictions will not waver.