Assisted Suicide
Ending Life On His Terms
Noah – Lisa’s Dad
The anguish of seniors living with constant pain can sometimes drive them toward drastic decisions, such as choosing to end their own lives, as they may feel their existence is burdensome to others and devoid of personal joy. This heart-wrenching scenario underscores the profound impact of physical suffering on mental health and the critical need for compassionate care and meaningful support systems in their final days.
Lisa asked her mom’s hospice chaplain to mediate a conversation between her mom and dad. They both needed that for closure. Her mom felt that for the first time he acknowledged how much she had really meant to him when he said, “I have loved you from the first day I met you, you brought things into my life that I would have never been able to myself, you made my life richer, and I will always be grateful for that.”
This conversation happened two months before she passed, and Lisa could tell that he was different after that, almost as if a big burden had been lifted off his shoulders.
After her mom passed, her dad’s health started to decline more rapidly.
Lisa’s dad suffered with tremendous pain because of his spine all the time. There was not enough medication the doctor could prescribe as far as he was concerned. Lisa could not tell if his pain made his depression worse or if his depression made his pain worse, but they were certainly feeding on each other.
On days when the pain was bad, he would refuse to eat anything. He would sit in front of the TV in his room and flip channels constantly as he would find nothing interesting or amusing. It was hard to watch her father that way. When Lisa was a child, she was a picky eater with very little appetite. Her dad would always find something that would entice Lisa into eating. Lisa on the other hand could not entice her dad to eat anything. She could not even force him to drink Ensure for nutrition.
Lisa recalled her father frequently being judgmental about her mom’s dad, who had suffered from terrible depression after he retired. He was a classic example of someone who felt he did not have any purpose in life now that he was no longer working. Her dad would often say about her grandfather, “If he wasn’t this lazy or proud, he would get off the sofa and get a part-time job or volunteer, he could improve his health and not be a burden to the entire family.” It was ironic that Lisa’s dad would have probably said the same things about himself if he had been able to be objective about the last few years of his own life.
Lisa says this is one of the hardest lessons of her dad’s life. “Sometimes, it seems that our worst judgements about others come to haunt us. This was certainly the case for my dad who had judged others for being a burden on their family members, only to find himself in the same situation at the end of his life.”
Lisa’s dad was in hospice, and his ordeal went on for about eight months. During that period, he progressively became quieter and more subdued.
“Is there anything I can do to help ease your pain, Dad?” Lisa asked one evening, her voice tinged with concern as she gently adjusted the pillows beneath his head.
Noah offered a weak smile, his eyes clouded with pain. “I’m afraid there’s not much anyone can do at this point, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice strained with effort.
Despite Noah’s stoic resolve, Lisa could see the toll his suffering was taking on him, both physically and emotionally. It pained her to watch him struggle, his once vibrant spirit now dimmed by the relentless march of time.
“I hate seeing you like this, Dad,” Lisa admitted one afternoon, her voice trembling with emotion as she sat beside his bed. “I wish there was something more I could do to ease your pain.”
Noah reached out to grasp her hand, his touch a comforting anchor in the storm of emotions. “Just knowing you’re here with me is enough,” he murmured, his voice filled with gratitude. “You’ve been my rock through all of this, Lisa, and I couldn’t ask for a better daughter.”
As the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, Lisa found herself grappling with the weight of her father’s suffering, her own emotions raw with grief and uncertainty.
“I just want you to be free from pain, Dad,” Lisa whispered one evening. Her voice choked with tears as she sat by his bedside. “You’ve suffered enough, and it breaks my heart to see you like this.”
Noah offered a weak smile, his eyes reflecting her own sorrow. “I’ve had a good life, Lisa,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “And no matter what happens, I’ll always be grateful for the love and support you’ve given me.” He gave her a big smile and asked for a hug.
His mood seemed to have improved after that talk. It was almost like he had a new lease on life. He seemed more content.
Lisa was paying someone to take him out of the house in a wheelchair every day for half an hour. Many days, the paid caregiver would come to take him out of the house and her dad would either refuse or act like he was asleep.
However, on the last day of his life he asked Lisa several times whether the caregiver was coming to take him for a walk or not. He told Lisa, “Today I would like to go on the walking path that goes through the forest. Can the caregiver take me for a two-hour walk? I feel like fresh air.” Lisa was so pleasantly surprised and shocked by his behavior that she did not question his motives.
When two hours had passed and they were still not back from the walk, Lisa called the caregiver. She told Lisa that her father had her stop at the entrance of the walking path and told her he wanted to take a nap. She said, “He is sleeping so quietly, with such a peaceful look on his face that I don’t feel like moving his wheelchair or talking around him.”
“I hate the way I am destroying my loving daughter’s life,” he would often tell Lisa. That day he took matters in his own hands and overdosed on his pain medicine. This was his way of obtaining his own closure. He did not want to die in Lisa’s home because he thought that “death in a house brings down its value.” So, he made sure he was out of her house when he passed.
As she stood by his bedside one final time, Lisa whispered a silent prayer for her father’s soul, her heart heavy with grief yet also filled with gratitude for the time they had shared together. She knew that his spirit would live on in her heart forevermore.
A Peaceful Walk
Claretta and Walter’s Story
Claretta sat at her father’s bedside, watching as Walter absently flipped through TV channels. The past year had been tough, and her once strong and lively dad had become a shadow of his former self. It was painful to see him like this.
“Hey, Dad,” Claretta said softly, putting her hand on his arm. “Would you like to go outside today? It’s sunny, and I thought some fresh air might do you good.”
Walter looked at her, his eyes tired but grateful. “Yeah, that sounds nice,” he replied quietly.
Claretta arranged for a nurse to help her get Walter into his wheelchair. As they went outside, the warmth of the sun and the smell of flowers seemed to brighten his mood a bit. They walked to a small park area behind the hospice, a place where Walter used to take Claretta when she was a kid.
“Remember when you used to push me on the swings here?” Claretta asked with a smile.
Walter chuckled softly. “You were always so fearless,” he said. “I loved watching you play.”
They sat in silence for a while, just enjoying the moment. Claretta felt grateful for this bit of happiness amidst the sadness. As the sun began to set, she knew it was time to head back.
“Dad, let’s go back inside,” she said gently. “It’s getting late.”
Walter nodded, looking content. “Thank you for this, Claretta,” he said. “It was a good day.”
That night, Walter seemed more at peace than he had in weeks. He slept quietly, and for the first time in a long while, Claretta felt a glimmer of hope that her father had found some comfort. The next morning, she found him still in the same peaceful state, his suffering finally over.
Claretta sat by his bedside, holding his hand as tears streamed down her face. She whispered a quiet prayer of thanks, grateful for the time they had shared and the peace he had found in his final moments.
A Father’s Farewell
Jeanne and Walter’s Story
Jeanne sat by her father’s bedside, watching as Walter flipped through the TV channels with a blank stare. The past year had been grueling, seeing her once strong and lively dad reduced to a shell of his former self. It was heartbreaking to witness.
“Hey, Dad,” Jeanne said softly, placing her hand gently on his arm. “Would you like to go outside today? It’s sunny, and I thought some fresh air might do you good.”
Walter looked at her, his eyes tired but grateful. “Yeah, that sounds nice,” he replied quietly.
Jeanne arranged for a nurse to help get Walter into his wheelchair. They ventured outside, where the warmth of the sun and the scent of blooming flowers seemed to lift Walter’s spirits. They headed to a small park area behind the hospice, a place filled with memories from Jeanne’s childhood.
“Remember when you used to push me on the swings here?” Jeanne asked, a smile spreading across her face.
Walter chuckled softly. “You were always so fearless,” he said. “I loved watching you play.”
They sat in comfortable silence for a while, soaking in the moment. Jeanne felt a surge of gratitude for this bit of happiness amidst the sorrow. As the sun began to set, she knew it was time to head back.
“Dad, let’s go back inside,” she said gently. “It’s getting late.”
Walter nodded, looking content. “Thank you for this, Jeanne,” he said. “It was a good day.”
That night, Walter seemed more at peace than he had in weeks. He slept soundly, and for the first time in a long while, Jeanne felt a glimmer of hope that her father had found some comfort. The next morning, she found him still in the same peaceful state, his suffering finally over.
Jeanne sat by his bedside, holding his hand as tears streamed down her face. She whispered a quiet prayer of thanks, grateful for the time they had shared and the peace he had found in his final moments.
After the service, Jeanne felt compelled to speak with her cousin, who had managed the funeral arrangements. With a mix of nervousness and determination, she approached him. “I just wanted to thank you for organizing everything so beautifully,” she said. “I know we haven’t always seen eye to eye, but today was perfect.”
Her cousin looked at her for a moment, then nodded. “Thanks, Jeanne. I’m glad it turned out well. It was all about Uncle Walter today.”
Jeanne felt a weight lift off her shoulders. “Yes, it was,” she agreed. “He would have appreciated it.”
Walking back to her mother, Jeanne felt a sense of relief. “That wasn’t easy, but I’m glad I talked to him,” she said.
Her mother, Iris, hugged her tightly. “I’m proud of you. It’s important to come together, especially for your dad.”
As they drove home, Jeanne reflected on the day. “I’m really thankful they arranged such a meaningful service. It truly honored Dad’s spirit.”
Iris nodded, her gaze distant yet warm. “Your father always believed in the importance of family and unity. He’d be happy to see us like this.”
As they continued their drive, they felt a deep connection to Walter and to each other, knowing they had honored his memory in the best way possible.
