Death Notice #1

Hi. Happy New Year!

I'm sure many blog posts today will start with a 'I haven't posted in a while' mea culpa, and mine is no different.

But this is a post I've been thinking about, really, for months. Since I visited my family in Adelaide last March/April. Back then, my Dad was moving into a full-time care situation, and Mum was staying at home. Dad's vascular dementia and Alzheimer's had become overwhelming for Mum and my sister, so we decided to move Dad into care. 

I spent time with Dad in his new digs, and ultimately came away feeling that he was safe, but that his world had become so, so tiny. The care home my sister had found is one of the best, to be sure. The staff are friendly and present, and Dad settled in fairly quickly. (He's always been a very kind and accommodating person.)

I'll never forget the day I was helping him lie down on his bed when he looked up and asked me, "is this your reality too?" "Yes," I said. "I'm right here with you."

In the following six months or so, Mum declined to such a state that she ended up in hospital. While it's very hard to grasp the medical facts from 10,000 miles away, it's clear that Mum was unable to look after herself at home independently, and her body seized up. She was in hospital for several weeks. She left stable, but very weak, and had suffered delirium in hospital. The decline was shocking, especially for my sister, who was with Mum throughout.

We were devastated to receive her ultimate diagnosis: Alzheimer's.

Both my beautiful, vibrant, friendly parents. 

Mum has recently entered full time care. This was really our only option, after considering bringing her back to their home, domestic adjustments that would have to be made, and financial pressure both of these issues would exert. It wasn't tenable. It isn't tenable, and now we are in the horrible situation where all Mum wants is to go home. She always told us she would rather die that either a) have in-home care, or b) end up in a care home "to die" and she's there. She's living her worst nightmare, and only half aware of it. 

I am writing this now as a precursor. This experience has made me want to do my very best to prepare to have this not be my ending. It feels strange to do this while Mum and Dad are still with us, but, the method I'd like to use and publish is a long-term, repetitive statement of intent. 

Mum and Dad are now in their worst nightmare because they have dementia. They no longer have the capacity to decide their fate on their own terms, and any wish to take their own lives is mediated by the state, or professional medical providers. (Mum wishes to die, and regularly tells us this.)

Death Notice #1

1. I wish to take my own life when I turn 75. 
2. I do not wish this to require the input of anyone else. 
3. I will prepare for, and fund it, myself. 
4. Only I can change this plan.

I'm 51. Healthy and independent. Financially stable. I have a good social life, and lots of friends. I do get down sometimes, but not to abnormal levels. I enjoy therapy and lifting weights.

Both of my parents suffer from dementia and are in the best situation Adelaide society currently provides. But, if that is to be my older years, I wish now to state my intentions clearly, with the aim that I will be able to take my own life as and when I choose. The right to be in control of one's own death should not be questioned.

Why 75?

I have looked at the lives of my parents, in particular, and know that their decline started in their 70s, likely even earlier at minor levels. I've noticed the strain this has put on our family, in particular my sister, and do not want to cause this level of pain to anyone. I also have no children, so don't anticipate being able to access the kind of unwavering support my sister has given my parents (to her own detriment).

What if you get dementia?

This is the part of my plan I expect to refine in the coming 23 years or so. I expect as a society we will refine a) the support we offer the elderly, and especially their carers, b) possibly be able to alleviate the worst symptoms of dementia, and c) develop a legal and ethical capacity for individuals to take their own lives as they see fit. My clause (4) is specifically intended to protect my wishes in the case where I do get dementia. My intent is twofold: 1) If I feel happy, healthy, and capable at 75, I can change the plan. 2) If I am unable to decide to change the plan because of my own mental faculty, the plan sticks, and I voluntarily die with assistance.

So there you have it. Death Notice #1. I intend to write this or something very similar each year from now until I turn 75.

Margaret & Jeff, circa 1966