In Oregon, Washington, Vermont, Montana and New Mexico, eligible patients are legally allowed to seek help to die. Brittany Maynard moved to Portland, Oregon in order to obtain prescriptions for lethal doses of barbiturates to end her life when the time came that her suffering would be unbearable. I read that many of these prescriptions have been issued; many people do not use them. I didn't think Brittany would. She was quoted as saying that she hoped that her mother would not "break down" nor "deal with any kind of depression."
Really.
I am sorry. People don't get to do this. In my book, Brittany Maynard's act was more than a desire to die with dignity; I believe she wanted the media attention and the fame for being the poster child for her video campaign supporting physician-assisted suicide. She succeeded: her story went viral and her pictures have been everywhere, and her live interviews are all over Google, along with photos of her smiling radiantly with her husband during their recent trip to the Grand Canyon - the last item on her bucket list. I find this more than just disturbing. I find it vulgar. I felt it unnecessary to exploit this sad story for the benefit of a cause, even though I respect those who stand behind it. It is another example of mass media sensationalism. I believe that Brittany Maynard, young and pretty and educated, used this as an opportunity to push her activism. The cold reality of her act infuriates me.
My reaction to this has been intense. I guess my first feeling was one of horror, to think that I could even read such a thing and not be immediately devastated. What is the matter with me, that I would have gone insane if I'd read that someone had decided to euthanize a beloved cat in the presence of family and friends? This was a human being. A human being who essentially put herself to sleep in the presence of her loving family.
I don't know what I would do if someone I loved decided to do something like this. I couldn't sit and watch someone commit suicide by drinking an overdose of Secobarbitol. I actually read that it's recommended that one mix it with fruit juice, as it tastes terrible. I read she diluted it with water.
What if you don't get the right dose?
What if you foam at the mouth, or vomit, or have violent seizures or go through a series of grotesque contortions? What if you don't die right away? And what if you do? Is the coroner's station wagon parked in the driveway? Is the coroner waiting in the hallway, with a gurney and a body bag?
Did she take her euthanasia beverage in a wineglass? Was music played? What were her last words? Did she just go to sleep? Did she struggle? Was it really peaceful and serene? And were the loved ones surrounding her really in acceptance of this? Were they peaceful and serene? Didn't at least one of them want to grab the glass away from her and throw it across the room?
Cancer is horrible. I saw my father die of cancer - at home, with dignity and hospice - but not by unnatural means. A friend of mine here in Rockford just died of ALS. Should she had moved somewhere so she could have taken her life? Now that the formula for the drug dosage is known, it goes without saying that it could easily get into the wrong hands. Who's to stop someone from giving it to a relative with Alzheimer's? Or a child with a birth defect? Or a 70-year old person who has been deemed as "old" by society and therefore useless, and should become Soylent Green? What door does this open for anyone who wants to do away with someone for any reason? And if it's such a peaceful, humane way to go, why don't they use it in states that allow the death penalty instead of watching people writhe for 45 minutes after a botched lethal injection?
Of course, suicide has been around forever. I read a novel set in the late 1800s where a woman, suffering from sciatica, was no longer able to get her laudanum (tincture of opium) via prescription, so she suffocated herself in her closet. Overdoses are legendary. But she did it in her closet. Not with an audience, and not with newspaper reporters at large.
I'm not saying that Brittany Maynard should have just sucked up her death sentence and suffered. There are medications and there is hospice. She still had life left in her. Surely her family must have wanted more time with her. Why do I get the feeling that she was thinking to herself, "I'm going to die anyway - why not make a media statement about it while I'm at it - and become famous?" Then again, perhaps I'm being rigid and narrow-minded. Why not respect a person's right to choose to commit suicide?
My cousin Tim committed suicide a few years ago. Suicide is absolute destruction to a family. I lived with someone who was a survivor of her mother's suicide. Suicide is the ultimate selfish act, in my opinion. It is an act of desperation, an act of drama, an act of insanity. I wonder -- was Brittany Maynard thinking, "What about my family, who will (presumably) be surrounding me to watch me die?" Didn't it affect her, knowing that they'd agreed to witness the act and view her as she expired in front of them? Did she even think about their immediate - not to mention delayed - reactions?
I couldn't even stay in the room when I had to have my elderly cats euthanized. I couldn't watch. I certainly couldn't observe that process, whether carried out deliberately or not, in a case of one of my loved human family members or friends. Actually, I couldn't even watch an execution, although I was unfortunately subjected to it as I strolled by the Internet computers that library patrons were using to view beheadings. I think I did see Saddam drop. But that's about it. Just thinking about it makes my stomach turn.
That mother of hers will have nightmares for the rest of her life. And if I had been in that room, I would have felt like an accomplice.
If I had written the prescription, I would have felt like an accomplice.
Let's not talk about if I had been the physician.
If this is affecting me - a person who never knew Brittany, what is going on right now in the psyches of her immediate family? I understand that she had already done her Christmas shopping and that the gifts are wrapped. That seems very macabre. They will have some sort of meaningful funeral. Someone famous will speak and the media will be there. A book will follow; it's probably already on its way to press - and then, of course, a movie. Poor Jodi Picoult, my favorite author - unless I've forgotten about one of her books - she missed her chance to use this as a subject for a novel. People are addicted to this sort of thing - so, at least for the next few days, it will be big tabloid news.
Marie says that in this country, people will do things if they're legal - even if they aren't ethical. Was Brittany ethical? I can't speak for her. Maybe her family was on board with this. Maybe there is a lot about the situation that I don't know. Certainly I have no degrees in theology, or philosophy, or medicine, or ethics. I consider myself an above-average thinker, but when I talk about Brittany Maynard, I hear myself screaming. I'm screaming basically what I said at the beginning of this: I'm sorry. She does not get to do this. But she did.
My prayers go with her grieving family. The family of Brittany Maynard is surrounded by loving support right now. Just wait a month. Or a year, or ten years. Actually, in this society, the world will have moved on by next week.
Brittany Maynard's cancer was a tragedy she did not deserve. Whether she had the right to take her own life or not is not my call. I just know that I haven't been able to stop thinking about it. And it isn't settling well with me. I can't get the images out of my mind. I'm furious for myself for morbidly digging through Google, trying to find the minute details about the moment of her death. I am horrified by my own obsession with horror. It's like a bad accident. You can't look at it, but you can't look away. Anyone reading this will conclude that I am some sort of sickie voyeur myself. Maybe I am.
Rest in peace, Brittany Maynard. And I hope I can get some rest tonight as well.
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