So here's a case where I think modern medicine could do better:
I've spent much of the last 18 months learning, in a sense, what death is about. From number 16 to our chickens to the 'perfect' hog, I've been figuring out, in my methodical and metaphorical way, what I think about death, what I believe about it, and what it's like to feel life literally slip through your hands.
And I'm with Temple Grandin: "Nature is cruel, but we don't have to be!" In the HBO movie, she (well, Claire Daines as Temple) repeatedly asks "where did they go?". A question with no answer, that gets to the point that first the animals are alive, and then they are not, and the difference is obvious and vivid. You can not mistake it when it happens. And it comes to all of us, whether we want to believe it or not.
So, I have now participated directly in the deaths of more than a dozen animals, from dogs to horses to cows and chickens. I once tried to kill an injured mouse by drowning it. That felt like it took forever, and I vowed I'd never do it again. A few weeks ago, my dogs had caught one, but didn't know how to do more than hurt it. So I took it's head off with a shovel. It suffered for maybe 15 minutes. Because I cared. And I didn't want it to suffer. But the decision had already been made that today was the day it would die.
So. What is this all about, and how does it relate to modern medicine, and what, exactly, am I angry about? Last week, my dad died. On Thursday, he was taken off of lie support. He had extensive brain damage, had been sick a really long time, and had so many things wrong with him that he was never going to be well again. Life support stopped on Thursday. Not until Friday did they start the morphine. Not until Friday night did his suffering finally end. The people who were there say his suffering was terrible. For more than 24 hours, he suffered. Even though the decision was made. Even though this was his day to die. Even though we would all rather go quickly, with dignity. I have treated my dogs better than this. I have treated mice better than this. This would have been allowed to go on for days, or even weeks, or even years.
How is this merciful? How is this compassionate? How is this right?
Suppose this had been a cow. Any number of animal welfare agencies (not to mention the sheriff and the H.P. up the street) would have been pounding at the door. A man was just cited in my town because he shot and dressed a cow in his driveway. (I'm not saying that's appropriate, exactly, I'm just making the point that at least that was quick, and humane!)
Suppose my dad had been a criminal on death row. He would have been put to death in a process that might be excruciatingly painful (as far as I know, no one knows for certain), but would last no more than a few minutes.
Can someone please explain to me why ordinary people are left to suffer agonizing pain for hours, days or weeks, but the worst of the worst are treated with dignity? Can someone explain why, once the decision is made, we can't help people out the door with the same compassion we show our dogs? Are we really that filled with hatred for ourselves that we would rather let billions suffer than be grownups and make the hard choices for those who can't help themselves? Do we really believe there would be a rash of people killing their friends and relations and next-of-kin, just because we can? Really? I mean, really, really? Wow. That's disgusting. I don't even know what to think.
Sooner or later, we all go through the door. Really. I know it's hard to believe, but it's true. And all I can say is that when it comes my time, and someone else has to choose for me (are you listening, J?), I want to be treated like my dog. Not like my dad.
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