How prepared
are we for end of life stuff? It’s never be more pertinent than right now as
we’ll soon have the chance to vote for the End of Life Choice Act in the
upcoming referendum. Let’s examine death on demand.
It was a
standard pre-spring day with the mind-lashing mix of wind and rain where
neither take the lead. Spring was trying so hard to be sprung. The sweet scent
of blossom caressing the temperate air, hailing the arrival hope, still sitting
in wait.
Inside the
house the hospital bed stands alone, a sterile and stark platform that holds no
hope. No wonder my father runs from it every chance he can, back to his own
familiar bed. For he too knows what this means. The palliative care nurse
softly speaks to me ‘what he is experiencing now is similar to child birth
pain’. I feel sick. This is hard to witness. I have given birth only 2 month
before. I remember. My father has mesothelioma, a malignant tumour that is caused by inhaled asbestos. There
is no cure, only the possibility to gain months. He is fighting it, he wants to
live, and my baby is here to spur him on.
Euthanasia was never discussed around my father, not only
because it wasn’t an option then but his desire to live was so strong. I’m
pretty sure he wouldn’t have made the choice to die by euthanasia. Will that be part of the new rhetoric if the End
of Life Choice Act 2019 is passed in October? Will this be written on the death certificate?
In
this year's General Election, you can vote in a referendum on whether you
support this act. But is it throwing up
more questions than it has answers?
This is something I am sitting discussing with ‘The
Aficionado of Death’ (self-titled) pathologist Cynric Temple-Camp. In his role
as pathologist, Cynric is often the last advocate for the dead. ‘So you’re a
story teller for the dead and I am a story teller for the living’. We agree.
Cynric bears an uncanny resemblance to my late father. I feel some level of
comfort in this but I’m relieved he has a nicely clipped South African accent
rather than the melodic Scottish sing-song of my father.
‘I guess I won’t
be leading from the front’ Cynric states along with his deep, dark -humoured
laugh. His signature methinks. His humour is as sharp as a scalpel. ‘I guess as
a pathologist I won’t have to’ ‘End of
life is not my thing’ It’s got me thinking too. Where will it take place? Will a Doctor, who in their very heart is
sworn to ‘do no harm’, find some cognitive dissonance with this? It goes
against all they have learned and no doubt wholly believe. Furthermore, you
need the opinion of two Doctors according to the Act. This feels like a lot of
pressure on Doctors.
Cynric spends a
lot of time with the dead. And he’s ‘quite intrigued by all the aspects of
death, how we handle it, how we see it and relate to it’. He strikes me as more
than quite intrigued. Cynric is captivating and compassionate in his advocacy
for the dead. ‘You can’t help but look at someone who has died without a sense
of loss’ he says. I wonder, but don’t ask, if he ever suffers from compassion
fatigue. When it comes to euthanasia he has questions ‘are people who are
euthanised going to need an autopsy? What’s the protocol? Do the Doctors sign
the death certificate? Can Doctors therefore be conscientious objectors?’ It is
certainly food for thought.
According to the
Act a conscientious objection is when a person refuses to carry out
a procedure based on their personal beliefs. That is a tough call. I wonder,
will participating Doctors and families be offered professional counselling to
abate the tide of trauma that may be left in deaths wake? I imagine the death
scene, an atmosphere of permanent mundaneness .Like going to the shops. Yet not
returning. Those remaining reeling in the finality of it.
There is talk of a ‘slippery slope’ A
slippery slope is often viewed as a logical fallacy in which a party asserts
that a small first step leads to a chain of related events culminating in some
significant effect. Maybe I am short sighted but I think this is a bit of a red
herring. . A slippery slope to what? You can only die once or so I believe? Or is it the idea that it will have a domino
effect? Are we sheep? There would be strict criteria around eligibility for
this option. We must question our current system with our woefully high suicide
rates. It leads me to think the slipperiest slope is the one that is currently heavily
embedded in our culture already. We swim with sharks when we fail to talk
honestly about the hard topics. End. Of .Life.
Cynric tells me how we already sanitise death,
with euphemisms such as ‘they went to sleep’ or I lost a friend, and the classic
‘if something should happen to me’. They didn’t go to sleep, nor are lost, they
have simply died. But often not simply too. Often in insufferable pain. Can
this be avoided with euthanasia? What if the diagnosis given is incorrect?
In his role as pathologist in the Manawatu he spends
most of his time working with the living, carrying out biopsies and analysis of
specimen. The Doctor is the gatekeeper between him and the patient. But he will
be the one to discover if there is something sinister lurking.
Nonetheless, when a body arrives for autopsy
it’s a different story. It is the unexpected and suspicious deaths that come
his way, so he knows ‘it has not been a good story. Nobody wants to deal with
that’ Cynric conveys a compassionate responsibility to the families. Although
he is not required to he often meets with the family of the deceased so they
know the story of how they died. ‘It’s painful’ he says but they thank him for
telling them as they often didn’t know. It brings a kind of catharsis in the
grief process for many loved ones.
My father did die in his home, with his dearly
loved wife and four adult children keeping vigil. I was on nightshift the night
he died. I was talking to him from the sofa and saying it’s OK to leave now. I
may have spoken some French. And then he stopped breathing. It was both
ordinary and beautiful.
Jeanna Thomson
To find out more go to:
https://www.referendums.govt.nz/
