Commentary
Can’t We Make Our Own
End-of-Life Decisions?
By John M.
Williams |
Recently, I was sitting in a doctor’s office waiting
to see a doctor. Sitting across was an elderly gentleman whose hands shook so
much that he could not turn the pages of a magazine. After repeated failures to
turn the pages, he looked at me and asked, “Can I get your assistance in
turning these pages?”
“Sure,” I said.
We were the only patients in the waiting room. His
appointment was running late.
I turned the pages and he said, “Thanks.”
When he finished reading, he put the magazine on top of
others, and he started staring at me. He reached into his shirt pocket and,
with his hands still trembling, wiped his glasses and asked, “What is your
name?” “John Williams,” I said.
“That’s a popular name -- Williams, I mean.
I’m Harold.”
We shook hands.
“What’s your profession?” Harold asked.
"I’m a writer.”
“I’m a retired structural engineer. I’ve
built bridges in Maryland, Pennsylvania, New York, Ohio, Florida and a few
other states. I retired 10 years ago when I was 72. How old are you?”
"Sixty-six.”
"Sixty-six? You’re still young yet. Are you
retired?”
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Patient on life support |
Before I could answer, he said, “The biggest mistake
I ever made was retiring. I was not ready.”
“No. I’m not retired. I don’t expect to
retire for many years.” He nodded his head and was quiet for a couple of
minutes. "You said you are a writer. What do you write?” “I write
mainly about special-needs technologies and their benefits to people of all
ages.”
"You do?” I nodded my head yes.
“I am. Rather, I know what you’re talking about.
I use a CCTV and text-to-speech software. They have strengthened my
independence.”
“I'm familiar with both technologies. I have written
about them scores of times. Do you use any other assistive technology?”
“Voice recognition for calling people and turning
lights and other appliances on and off in my house.”
“How long have you been using assistive
technology?”
“At least 10 years. Not longer. Williams. You said
your last name is Williams? I may have read your articles. I know I have.”
An alarm on his watch sounded. He pressed a button to turn
it off, and then he reached into a plastic bag and pulled out a water bottle,
popped a pill into his mouth and took a long swallow.
“I take a dozen tablets a day for one ailment or
another. I take a tablet to control my high blood pressure. One to lower my
cholesterol. Another for my Parkinson’s. Another to control my appetite.
Hell, seniors my age keep the pharmaceutical companies prosperous. But do you
know what?” “What, Harold?”
“Despite all this technology and medications, my
quality of life sucks. I don’t want pills to keep me artificially
alive.”
He looked at his plastic bag, shook his head and
continued. “I’m 82 years old. I’ve been married 55 years. My
wife, Helen, and I have four children, a football team of grandchildren and
three great-grandchildren. God blessed me that way.”
He stopped and looked at his watch. He laid it on the
empty chair to his right. “In another hour I’ll pop another pill. And
two an hour after that. Yet, for all the pills I pop daily, I go through the
humiliation of having my wife or son dress me daily. It’s embarrassing to
have my wife put my underwear, socks, shoes, shirt on me most mornings.
It’s disgusting to wet myself, and I’m unable to change wet
underwear. I want to die. However, I’m Catholic, so suicide is not an
option.”
“Have you discussed these feelings with your family
and others?”
“Yes. My wife cries when I do. My children don’t
want to listen, and so they walk away. But I’ve made a will that states I
am not to be put on life-support technology if that situation occurs.”
Before he could say anything else, a doctor’s
assistant told him the doctor was ready to see him. He grabbed his heavy cane
and asked, “Will you help me up?”
I assisted him. I watched as he walked, his body bent
over, ever so slowly to the door. Then he was gone.
I waited until he came out of the doctor’s office to
ask him if I could write a column about our conversation. He said I could.
A day after my conversation with Harold, my 80-year-old
father-in-law died. He had been sick for a number of years. He had told me
numerous times over several years that as he aged and confronted numerous
ailments -- he took 18 medications daily – that he saw his quality of life
deteriorate, and he wanted to die. Like Harold, my father-in-law questioned the
wisdom of keeping seniors alive when they could no longer live with
independence and dignity.
For years, I have questioned the policies of keeping
people alive who are a burden to themselves and their families. I know that I
do not want to live if I become a personal and financial burden to my family
and community. I do not want my quality of life to suck.
John M. Williams can be reached at
jwilliams@atechnews.com. His website is www.atechnews.com. |
