Debbie Purdy: RIP

Right To Die, Campaigner,
Debbie Purdy.

You know, dreams are funny things.

I’ve gone to bed just recently, wondering if I’d wake up in the morning: and reading or hearing news that right to die campaigner, writer, broadcaster and my favourite novelist, Sir Terry Pratchett, had finally died.

He’s campaigned for years for the right to an assisted death: as a result of succumbing to a form of early-onset Alzheimer’s Disease.

Something I know I’m still unsure about.

I’d seen the disease kill a much loved grandmother, many years ago: so hearing he’d contracted a version wasn’t a good thing.

Either way … ?

Either way, I’d followed the various news items about various right to die campaigners assorted battles: including those of MS sufferer, Debbie Purdy.

Sadly, my late night dream, thought, premonition, call it what you will, came true …

For a given value of true.

~≈®≈~

Suicidal Impulses …

Hmmm …

Isn’t death an emotive issue … ?

It is, isn’t it?

I’ve written on this, before, but the news has been raised again, as the Director of Public Prosecutions has issued a new set of guidelines on the subject of Assisted Suicide.

The guidelines outline exactly what factors should be considered, both for and against prosecution, when a case like this crops up.

But it’s still something I find … tough …

You see, having seen a grandmother die as a result of complication’s of Alzheimer's.

And can see why Sir Terry Pratchett find’s the idea appealing.

Boy, can I see why!

I also have one or two friends who’ve quietly said they’d feel the same, in his shoes.

But …

Hmmm …

To be frank, though, the idea of dying scares me witless.

Witless.

And not only that, I’m thinking that I’d hate to be in the shoes of having to talk over the possibility with a relative.

Let me try and clarify; I’m thinking here, that I’m hoping I don’t catch … ohh … something like Alzheimer’s, or lung cancer, for example. I would hate to be put into the shoes of asking a relative, or partner to help me die.

Even though I know the reasons in favour, I would prefer not to put a loved one through the process of killing me.

And I’d also prefer — as things stand for me, at the moment — not to have to do that for a loved one.

I know I’ve had friends, who’ve lost loved ones to various forms of cancer, who may — may — have had to talk about it.

But, for me … ?

Right now … ?

It scares me.

And revolts me, too …