Suicide, homicide and Dignitas

When I first discovered that I couldn't get out of bed, or see, or do anything without someone having to do it for me-I was so angry, depressed, frightened-I joked about signing myself up for Dignitas, but I think back two years and I think I was only half joking. Two years later, things look different.

I saw a documentary about Dignitas a few months ago-and although I believe in euthanasia, I was shocked at what I saw. In fact, I thought Dignitas would be a lovely country estate in Switzerland-and I couldn't have been more wrong! Eeeek!!

I think the Swiss have the right idea: assisted suicide is legal there, and when someone is so ill, or has no chance of any kind of life, they should be allowed to end it all. And their loved ones shouldn't have to worry about facing arrest if they help them. We should all be in charge of our own bodies, after all.

Dignitas turned out to be situated in the middle of an industrial estate, surrounded by concrete buildings and the noise of a motorway. I could be wrong, but that is the way I remember it; a one story building that looked like a down market shack, with a lovely view of factories. All this for the paltry sum of ten thousand pounds! I thought there would be a very peaceful, elegant house with green fields, and a good view of the Alps. What a letdown! And I thought that the interior would be lovely, not clinical and full of plastic. AND I thought that the staff would be friendly, compassionate, that they would at least give you lunch or tea before they kill you. Nope: the two people they filmed had to complete all kinds of paperwork, and they were asked several times: are you sure you want to go through with this? What-did you get a refund if you changed your mind, or at least get a credit if you decided to postpone it? Of course you didn't.

There was no restful music-there was nothing, only the fact that people were sitting in what could have been an abortion clinic (no, I've never been to one, but in my imagination, it would look like Dignitas), and there was no social conversation; there was only someone with a witness, saying that the patient would drink two glasses, one with something to stop the person from vomiting the poison, and the other glass was poison.

I wondered if you could pick a flavor: orange, maybe, or cherry? Somehow I doubted it.

The wife of the old guy who decided that life wasn't worth living, and that his condition would only get worse, looked frightened, tense, upset, as if she wanted to burst into tears, but she tried to put on a brave face. She's probably going to be in therapy for a long time. In fact, I got so upset, I wanted to go into therapy myself!!

No Dignitas for me; no thought, no contemplation of any form of suicide. I'm lucky that I have worked hard enough to get 55% back; I refuse to give up, no matter how long it takes.

Of course, I mention all this because of two items in the news. The first was a man with motor neurone; he was unable to do anything-and he communicated by blinking his eyes. He wanted the right to die-but the courts denied him this right, telling him some kind of crap about him not being legally allowed to take his own life. In fact, he died shortly thereafter anyway-and if his family gave him a little assistance, I hope they get away with it. What kind of life did he have? He couldn't get up and take a stroll-and I can (even if I do fall over at times). The court had no right to tell him anything.

The second item was about Tony Scott, the British director, who offed himself by leaping off a bridge in California. Now that I have trouble understanding-he seemed to have everything anyone could want, and yet he decided to jump to his death. Obviously there was more to it than most people know-but I couldn't help thinking at the time: what if he got halfway down and thought "oh, crap, I've changed my mind!"? Committing suicide by leaping off a bridge is very final; how long do you have to think about your life? What do you do, think about your bills, or the mortgage-do you whistle on the way down?

Does any leaper (or any suicide, for that matter) think about the family members left behind? What about the people who leap off a tall building? Suppose they hit something on the way down, break their fall (not to mention all their bones), and end up quadriplegic? And do they spare a thought for the person they might land on and therefore take out with them? Or the poor sucker who has to pick up all the body parts, and scrape up the mess on the ground, and put it all in a baggie?

No-the bridge is neater; a tall building is just plain bad manners.

I'm still wishing that someone would throw my nasty upstairs neighbor off a bridge-or a cliff-or out of a building-or in front of a speeding train. I know it's very un-Christian, but who cares? I also know it is very bad karma-but try being kept awake for several nights in a row, being threatened, and having someone pee all over your doormat, and throw all kinds of disgusting trash out his window and have it land right outside yours-and then see how you feel about karma!!!

I'm glad I am getting better, even though it is a very slow process; it means I can move out of here. Maybe the next person to suffer has someone in the family who will beat the idiot to a pulp-so he will have to move!

There is a lot to be said for winning the lottery!! LOL!!!