Dying naturally allows terminal patients time
Euthanasia cuts short the chance to seek closure, writes Luke Savage.
Euthanasia is still the new kid on the block in medicine.
It seems to be the thing to do if you have any significant health problem that might threaten to cut your life short.
As a reminder, euthanasia is not a right. The new law approved in June 2016 allows it in certain circumstances, but the law prohibiting urging a suicide is still, thankfully, in force. So far, more than 1,500 people in Canada have had the euthanasia procedure done to them by a doctor or nurse practitioner.
We are starting to hear stories about people who may have been pressured into it, being offered suicide without asking for it. The risk is even greater for those with chronic disabilities.
An able-bodied physician may see their disabled patient’s life as unworthy of living. Rather than diligently seeking innovative solutions for the patient’s symptoms, euthanasia is an easy offer.
We don’t hear these stories in the news, which overwhelmingly listens to the “death-with-dignity” lobby.
We don’t hear of the truly brave people who want something more than death, who refuse to lose hope or who regain hope from the love of those around them. There is true dignity.
I have had the privilege of walking with several patients in their terminal conditions, and many more in their disabilities.
My patient, Ann, was a few years into retirement, and was overall quite healthy.
Earlier this spring, she started having abdominal bloating and discomfort. Initial investigations found free fluid in the abdomen, a sign of more significant problems.
This led to further CT scans and a sample of the fluid showed advanced metastatic ovarian cancer. Surgery was not an option, and chemo would only give a few extra months plus unwanted side effects. Ann did not turn to despair and seek to end it all. Rather, she turned to her husband of 40 years, her family, friends and faith.
Astonishingly, Ann saw her diagnosis as a source of tremendous peace, a form of certainty in place of the family history of serious illness which had clouded her future. Now the time spent with family and visitors has deeper meaning and purpose.
She is learning to pass down her wisdom to her children and grandchildren. She is learning to enjoy each day as it comes. Certainly some days are harder than others with pain or low energy. Because Ann did not pursue chemo, she can still taste and enjoy food, although only having one quarter of her appetite.
As she slowly prepared Christmas cards and packages, (four months ahead of time) I asked why euthanasia was not on the table. She replied: “We have so much excellent help available to control symptoms. I do not fear that I will experience uncontrollable pain or suffering. To me, emotional anguish is a powerful amplifier of physical pain. I am not afraid or desperate to prolong life. To die naturally in the presence of my family is my hope.”
Indeed, Ann’s life is full of hope in things unseen and she refuses to surrender it.
Ann reflected on the consequences she has heard about in the families of patients with terminal illness who have opted for euthanasia.
“Unresolved circumstances and relationships were left to fester in the wake of their death,” she said. “I have often seen that the period of declining health has been a time of healing of relationships and teaching important values.” That time is always cut short with euthanasia.
“My relatively brief journey with terminal cancer has already resulted in deepening of some of my relationships and steps toward reconciliation taken by a family member who has been estranged for a number of years. If I had chosen euthanasia, this resolution and growth would not have been available to these ones who will live on after I have died.”
A few days ago I drained more fluid from her abdomen. Ann smiled and breathed a sigh of relief.
She looked to her husband and said: “I can walk this journey ahead, as long as you’ll walk with me.”
This, truly, is what a good death looks like.