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Time's ticking
10 September 2005
Dad's hours from death. He hasn't had any food for 14 days now. I am reminded of Gandhi's great fast. But for dad, it's not a voluntary event, merely the last phase in the end of his life. He's weak and slips in and out of coherency, unable to stay awak for more than a few minutes at a time.
The doctor removed the IV two days ago - with Dad's permission, of course. Dad's kidneys no longer work effectively and fluids remain in his tissues, causing his arm and fingers to swell like Popeye's. He can't hold anything in his hands, can't sit up without help, can't even keep his teeth in his mouth.
He's stubborn and strong, fighting the inevitable all this time, but without any sustenance, not even a strong heart and iron will can keep his with us much longer. He's 92, and he's had a good life, a long life, but there's no way to avoid the fate we all face. Especially not when your body is riddled with cancers.
What a sad, sorry time for a man who had such personal dignity and pride during his healthy days. Dad's mind is slipping, too. He is sometimes sharp and clear, but increasingly slides into non sequitors, losing coherency and asking inappropriate questions or making statements unrelated to anything current.
Dad meets his end content with his life. He's not religious, under no misapprehension about heavens or hells, has no belief in gods, ghosts, demons or afterlife. He knows that, when we die, the lights go out and our bodies go to dust. There is no eternal glory, no eternal damnation, no salvation nor punishment. No gods, no angels no devils will take his "soul." He doesn't believe in souls. Throughout his life, my father had no truck with such superstition. Dad was an atheist.
Perhaps that skepticism, that piercing, unclouded logical view of the world was his greatest gift to me. His love of books and reading, too, was his gift to me.
I wish we had a more humane medical system. Dad would surely ask for euthanasia - he wants to go but has no way to leave. He hates being a burden, hates being in a state of weakness or vulnerability. But our system doesn't allow us to give people a dignified way to die. We force them to hang on, caught in a belief that life is so sacred that even when its time has drawn to an end, we have to prolong it until the most dreary, miserable, painful moment of death.
A truly humane, civilized state would allow us to chose to end our lives when we decided it was time to leave. Only a sadistic, superstitious state would force people to live with pain, suffering and inevitable death without allowing them to choose a way out.
Why? Surely a dignified, painless and comfortable death is better and more considerate than an ugly, drawn-out, painful and helpless death. I blame the religious right for keeping us in this medieval state, this ugly, dark world where we refuse to allow a person the opportunity to die at their own request.
So all we can do is wring our hands, and wait. None of us, not even Dad, can have closure, can rest until the final chapter is played out. I hate to see him go this way, to have his dignity and pride compromised, but unable to make the choice for himself to die.
The doctor removed the IV two days ago - with Dad's permission, of course. Dad's kidneys no longer work effectively and fluids remain in his tissues, causing his arm and fingers to swell like Popeye's. He can't hold anything in his hands, can't sit up without help, can't even keep his teeth in his mouth.
He's stubborn and strong, fighting the inevitable all this time, but without any sustenance, not even a strong heart and iron will can keep his with us much longer. He's 92, and he's had a good life, a long life, but there's no way to avoid the fate we all face. Especially not when your body is riddled with cancers.
What a sad, sorry time for a man who had such personal dignity and pride during his healthy days. Dad's mind is slipping, too. He is sometimes sharp and clear, but increasingly slides into non sequitors, losing coherency and asking inappropriate questions or making statements unrelated to anything current.
Dad meets his end content with his life. He's not religious, under no misapprehension about heavens or hells, has no belief in gods, ghosts, demons or afterlife. He knows that, when we die, the lights go out and our bodies go to dust. There is no eternal glory, no eternal damnation, no salvation nor punishment. No gods, no angels no devils will take his "soul." He doesn't believe in souls. Throughout his life, my father had no truck with such superstition. Dad was an atheist.
Perhaps that skepticism, that piercing, unclouded logical view of the world was his greatest gift to me. His love of books and reading, too, was his gift to me.
I wish we had a more humane medical system. Dad would surely ask for euthanasia - he wants to go but has no way to leave. He hates being a burden, hates being in a state of weakness or vulnerability. But our system doesn't allow us to give people a dignified way to die. We force them to hang on, caught in a belief that life is so sacred that even when its time has drawn to an end, we have to prolong it until the most dreary, miserable, painful moment of death.
A truly humane, civilized state would allow us to chose to end our lives when we decided it was time to leave. Only a sadistic, superstitious state would force people to live with pain, suffering and inevitable death without allowing them to choose a way out.
Why? Surely a dignified, painless and comfortable death is better and more considerate than an ugly, drawn-out, painful and helpless death. I blame the religious right for keeping us in this medieval state, this ugly, dark world where we refuse to allow a person the opportunity to die at their own request.
So all we can do is wring our hands, and wait. None of us, not even Dad, can have closure, can rest until the final chapter is played out. I hate to see him go this way, to have his dignity and pride compromised, but unable to make the choice for himself to die.
