Of all the social, moral and metaphysical issues now engaging us in these times of great flux and change—abortion, capital punishment, genetic engineering, cloning and euthanasia—it is the last that engrosses me most, simply because death is everyone’s destiny, and everyone wants a good death. Indeed, ‘euthanasia’, derived from the Greek eu meaning ‘well’ and thanatos meaning ‘death’, should have a positive connotation, but today, because of the surrounding controversies, it has become a repository of our greatest anxieties and perplexities, shown in the self-contradictory nature of its other name—’mercy-killing’—an impossible situation of an act of violence punishable by law, that is at the same time impelled by the motive of compassion, urged by all religions and moral systems.

Without quite knowing exactly how I would like my life to end (barring sudden, unexpected death), I have already worked out a framework based on certain strong beliefs, within which the desired manner of death should take place:

1. being totally secularist, I am not bound by the religious injunction that under no circumstances can a doctor take away the life of a patient; that under no circumstances can the patient end his own life, no matter how great the suffering; and that the end of a life is a matter for God, and God alone, to decide.
2. My decision, then, whatever it is, will not be affected whatsoever by the two-fold religious belief that a) a person who dies by his own hand is punished by hellfire b) suffering on earth is a way of amassing credit for heaven, that is, bodily pain converts into spiritual gain
3. My decision then whatever it is, will be concerned only with the here and the now, with reality as it is experienced, the actual experience of the sentient being, with the thinking, feeling brain and the five senses that connect him to his community and the external world.
4. It is very much my reality that I have a very low threshold for physical pain, and hence cannot see myself heroically enduring months of pain, leading not to a cure but to death, that I have seen in some relatives and friends.(My poor grandmother who died of cancer groaned in agony till the very end; my sister-in-law, thankfully, was helped through her excruciating pain with large doses of morphine) And it is also my reality that I have an overdeveloped sense of what in Hokkien is called the ‘mai-cha-lung’ (literally, ‘no need to disturb others’) attitude, preferring to go through any inconvenience, coping with any problem, on my own. This habit of robust independence has been so long maintained, that to be bedridden and completely dependent for the most basic needs on others, even the most loving and unstinting caregivers in the family, would be a fate worse than death.
5. Yet such is the human lot that we simply cannot predict what the end would be like. I am completely aware of the sheer unpredictability of the when and the how of death. An American physician and writer, Dr Sherwin Nuland in his best-selling book ‘How We Die’ lists seven causes of death, including the most common ones of cancer and heart attack, and the much less common ones of Aids and murder. The majority of my late relatives, friends and ex-colleagues had succumbed to the usual ills that plague old age such as cancer, heart attack and diabetes; hence the probability of my dying from old age-related diseases too (I had nearly died in a horrible freak roadside accident in 2009)
6. Whatever the manner of death, I would not want it to have any adverse effect on loved ones, to mar, in any way, their continuing to live happy, peaceful lives. For instance, I would not want them to be in debt because of the enormous expense of keeping me alive, or suffering from guilt and remorse because they feel they have not done enough for me (I was very thankful that my narrow escape from death in 2009 enabled me to tell my son and daughter that if I didn’t manage to escape another time, they should remember that their mother lived the happiest, most fulfilling life possible)

All the above considerations make for a rather loose framework at present, but they could be clarified and strengthened as new circumstances arise. Basically, they are centred on my fierce sense of selfhood and its corollary of an equally ferocious aversion to causing even the least inconvenience to anyone. If one of these days I am diagnosed with serious cancer, I will do the sensible thing of taking sound medical advice, but make the final decision myself, guided by the principles of the framework. That means that I would never prolong life simply for the sake of prolonging it, endure pain simply because it is a heroic thing to do, live a life that is no longer qualitatively a life, wait for Nature to ‘take its course’, whatever that means. For it seems to be a travesty of our intelligence that whereas we are urged, in order to live well, to manage every aspect of our lives—our health, finances, career, marriage, relationships—we are enjoined, in the matter of death, to do nothing about it. Surely this commendable trait of good management can be extended to the process of dying itself.

Between the horror of the self-inflicted death called suicide, and the doubtfulness that still clouds the other exit called mercy-killing, there must be one that preserves the dignity of the individual and the sense of being in control up to the end, or achieving that control through instructions to loved ones. Ultimately, the responsibility of choice must still lie with the individual, in keeping with the beliefs that have guided him throughout life.

It is said that a person’s life is defined by its closure, and I certainly would like to think that the final decision is mine. When my death comes, I would like to claim ownership of it, and say it is truly a death of my own.

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About Vignettes...

A continuing flow of little, readable pieces that will constitute what I feel is an important 'legacy of values' to leave behind. Read more about Vignettes...