29th November, 2024: Vanuatu.
Right … I am officially up — and showered — early.
Yes.
I’m expecting another visit from an occupational therapist: from my GP surgery.
She’s the one who managed to get hold of the bath chair for me: and — once she realised I’d find a step stool handy — offered to do another visit.
Just to — you know — assess things.
Here’s hoping things go well.
~≈🪑≈~
It’s getting a lot of reporting, understandably: with many — on the Today programme, at least — putting the bill on a par with the ones that legalised homosexuality or abortion, and that ended capital punishment.
An assisted death isn’t something I see myself — as I am, today — wanting or needing.
Nor — as they are today — is it something I seem my friends and family wanting or needing.
But … ?
Ever since the death of Sir Terry Pratchett — after years of struggles with Alzheimers, and his own campaign in support of assisted death — I’ve concluded physician-assisted deaths must be made UK law.
Or, at least, law in England and Wales, as this bill lays out.
It’s something I feel is truly on a par with abortion.
You may not want one: I may not want one.
That does not mean an abortion — or a dignified death of our own choosing — should not be legally available.
“If I knew that I could die, I would live. My life, my death, my choice.”
Shaking Hands with Death, Richard Dimbleby Lecture by Sir Terry Pratchett.
~≈🪦≈~
From the grim, to the ridiculous.
I have to confess, I’ve woken up with an earworm.
“Jai-ho”: the Pussycat Dolls version, rather than the version from Slumdog Millionaires.
Quite why the chorus left me in tears, I don’t know!
