Her desires were in writing, probably from before she went into assisted living. Hospice attended her, so all comfort measures could be given. She could still speak enough to make her desires well-known when she embarked upon this journey. Another friend of hers was a minister and acted on her behalf. Her only living relative was a brother in another state. She’d done everything she’d ever wanted to do, I think, and at the age of 80 wasn’t going to hang around any longer for the diapers and spoon feeding and all the rest.
She died almost exactly a year ago this March, and I will always miss the person I met in 1994, someone who courageously lived every minute of her life.
Another close friend’s mother, a devout Roman Catholic in her 90s, had dementia and was in memory care, as the euphemism is. As long as she continued to enjoy some quality of life, my friend was fine with making the frequent visits and doing everything possible to monitor her care. But there comes a point in Alzheimer’s where a person’s body seems to say, “no more,” and among other things they will turn their head away from an offered spoon. My friend’s mom had discussed not being forced to live with no quality of life, and apparently the Pope (can’t remember which one) also made it known that when the natural end of life is at hand, there is no requirement to use heroic measures to sustain the illusion of life. So, she too, was allowed to pass in peace with all measures taken for her comfort.
My husband has been researching and thinking about this option ever since these two deaths early last year. He thought that if it came right down to it for him (in some hideous case like ALS) he might have to leave the state or even the country to choose assisted suicide. But this is another option. I just had to listen to him process it for several months.
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