2024-04-25 03:30:27
In discussions on the “end of life”, let us not forget that, fundamentally, it is the person, mortal, who is in question: each person is confronted with their own, possible suffering, and with “their own » death, inevitable.
However, the vast majority of interventions in these debates in France are those of the French medical profession, issuing prescriptions. Do doctors control life and death? In the current government project, yes, although in a sense opposite to that which is usually understood by “power of life and death”: to the person who wishes to die, they can impose to continue living or authorize death.
Their speaking out is entirely justified, as much by the care they provide as by their conscience and their “oath”, the Hippocratic oath: ” I never deliberately provoke death “powerful symbolic commitment supported by the ” You will not kill “ biblical. But, concretely, have these young people of 30 thought regarding the moment when, dejected by the continued decline of age, they themselves will face the time of waiting ending in death anyway? Generally speaking, what allows people in the prime of life or in green old age to pontificate on the fate of their fellow human beings ravaged by weakness and close to death?
It is time that those mainly concerned, seriously ill, octogenarians, nonagenarians, centenarians, see their words as widely published as those of the healthy, who are in full possession of their keyboards and their means.
The choice of the moment of his death
The old people, the old ones including me since I am over 90 years old, are bent by osteoarthritis, torn by pain which multiplies, promised to blindness or at least to poor vision. We are crowded at the bottom of the medical bed waiting for an overworked caregiver; or welcomed into family and feeling heavily in our helplessness the weight imposed on our caregivers; or at home, isolated, surrounded by social assistance but all overwhelmed by the loss of husband, wife, so many friends, and in fear of a new accident sending you back to the hospital bed.
All this with a wavering gait, blurred vision, in an increasingly restricted space since the renunciation of the automobile, ultimately limiting himself to the armchair and the bed, finally to the bed alone. Aware of so many other pains that I don’t know, I stop here.
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