An end to unspeakable acts of violence

Just as my father took measures to prevent a violent death in the family, our lawmakers have a responsibility to do the same for the elderly and terminally ill.

An elderly neighbour who was recently diagnosed with a life terminating illness explained on how he planned to end his life through carbon monoxide poisoning.

“Why this way?” I asked.

“Because my wife does not want a messy death.”

She did not want to find him dead in a pool of blood on the living room rug or discover his corpse hanging from a rope in the back shed where there was chance of the grandchildren catching sight of him in a game of hide and seek.

Funneling poisonous fumes into the family station wagon, preferably in an abandoned industrial lot in Melbourne’s peripheries, seemed a better alternative.

Perhaps. But surely much more can be done for this man and others in a similar predicament.

Undoubtedly the state has dedicated significant funds and attention towards advancing palliative care, as it should continue to do so, especially on the back of voluntary assisted dying laws. But it must also be recognized that for certain people, sustained, unwanted and mandatory palliative care is a form of violence.

The terminally ill ought to be free to say, ‘I appreciate your concern and I acknowledge your commitment to my wellbeing, but I do not wish to see out my dying days under the tyranny of compulsory suffering.’

A deeply religious colleague recently put it to me that supporters of voluntary euthanasia appeal to disingenuous language to garner support for what is, as he put it, ‘state-sponsored suicide’.

“Why call it ‘assisted dying’ or ‘dying with dignity’ when what they really mean is suicide?”

“It probably has to do more with your Church’s attitude to suicide than them” was my reply.