Jamie’s Corner, Chapter Three

Several years ago, I saw a statistic that startled me so much that I still think of it regularly. It said that at least half of physician-assisted suicide victims in Oregon, the state where America’s “Death with Dignity” laws began, attribute “fear of being a burden” as a reason for choosing physician-assisted suicide. That number has gone up over 20 points since the law was first passed in 1997.

I get the fear of being a burden. As we age, we all become a bit more burdensome. We might need help getting around or remembering things, and eventually, someone will have to take care of us. That can feel daunting. But we’re not meant to be perfectly in control forever; learning to let go is part of life. For the disabled, it’s their entire life. Our approach to these lifestyle changes can inspire others, and for those of us who care for the sick, aging, and disabled, they change us for the better through their vulnerability.

I think of my grandfather, a lieutenant general in the Army, a Vietnam and Korea veteran, and Class Captain of 1949 at West Point, who succumbed to Alzheimer’s after a long, slow descent. He lost control of his immense mental faculties but maintained his dignity, and his family rallied to care for him. It was hard, but everyone grew from that process.

Difficulties and trials don’t take away our dignity. They reveal that all of us are burdens to someone in one way or another. Just ask my wife when I don’t take out the trash after she’s asked me a hundred times! Sure, it’s much more stark when it’s something like ALS or dementia, but like John Donne so beautifully wrote, “No man is an island.” We are all responsible for each other. That responsibility allows us to love and be loved.

I’ll close with a thought on Diane Coleman, an inspiration for me. She is the founder of Not Dead Yet, a disability rights group that opposes the spread of physician-assisted suicide through their laser-focused lens of disability. Her movement shines light on the reality that, “People with disabilities aren’t usually terminally ill, the terminally ill are almost always disabled.” In other words, she sees the driving force behind euthanasia and physician-assisted suicide as a fear of disability.

Talk about someone who doesn’t want any pity – Diane and her team relentlessly push to be recognized as no different from anyone else, endowed with the same human dignity as the so-called “able.” That’s all they ask for, and that’s something beautiful.

See you in a couple weeks,

Jamie