I’ve been a supporter of the right to die for decades – long before I’d ever need it – and I dearly wish I could avail myself of it now. I don’t think we should have to be terminal even, just incurable.
There’s little quality left to my life. I’ve a myriad of health problems, several of them life-threatening but the absolute worst that I live with is IBS. I live in utter dread of flares and – there’s no gentle way to say this – not making it to the bathroom. That is the worst and makes me want to curl up in the corner and die.
Especially living alone. Nothing like getting ill then having to immediately clean the mess up yourself. A year ago, I thought I desperately needed independent living but I couldn’t afford it. Now I think I flat out need assisted living but can’t afford it.
To top it off, I’m mobility impaired. Osteo-arthritis caused by an underlying incurable and degenerative bone disase. Nothing like sudden urgency combined with being crippled. I’m convinced I got my Social Security disability because the judge took utter pity on that situation and my out and out admission that I so dread an accident at work, I wouldn’t eat ’til I got home.
It used to be manageable until I had colitis in September 2017. Before that, if I had a doctor appointment or social engagement, I could take immodium ahead of time and know I’d at least make it through. That is no longer the case. I have had numerous colon polyphs and am high risk for colon cancer.
I also have gall stones, heart disease and Factor 5 Leiden mutant gene that makes your blood clot (which caused the colitis). I have more but these are the life-threatening conditions. All are conditions that could kill me tomorrow (I should be so lucky) or I could live for 30 more years (unfortunately).
I wish my body would stop torturing me and just kill me already. I’ve lived a full life but no longer do. I’m not young with my whole life ahead of me. I’ve had enough.
Just stop, heart. Stop. Please. I’m begging you.
Dr. Kevorkian was a hero, frankly. If I could go to a doctor and get a pill and swallow it and lay down and go to sleep and never wake up, I would. Unfortunately, even the states that do allow that mercy, only do if you’re terminal, not if you have to live with the constant fear of messing your pants. If I win the lotto, I’ll fly to Switzerland.
This is not a life and the only thing that stops me from attempting to end the existence is the knowledge of what happens if you fail. My life is bad enough without a worsened physical state in a mental ward I’d have to lie my way out of.
If I can’t live, I wish I’d die. Enough!