voluntary euthanasia - how it works

smithdown · April 13, 2007

Maybe its an attempt to get people to 'do their bit' in these austere times. I mean, we are a country at war after all and our civil servants have to be very careful that there isn't any, what's the word, waste. And these are desperate times for our government, trying to squeeze every last drop from the meagre pennies in their coffers. So, really, I shouldn't complain that when my Ma was admitted to the Royal Hospital recently in an extremely serious and precarious state she was whacked out on morphine first of all, and then left to die. I should have just accepted the consultant's word for it that he had asked her if she wanted any more treatment and she had replied "leave me alone". That's right. "Leave me alone", she said, while off her cake on morphine and being prodded and pulled all over the place and being given injections and generally in an extremely distressed state. "Leave me alone" from a disorientated, heavily medicated patient meant that the consultant had got 3 other consultants to sign a card which contains a declaration that in the event of my Ma's health deteriorating they would not be compelled to rescusitate her and were withdrawing all but palliative treatment. Her time is up and she said "leave me alone". All they can offer her is more morphine, to make her comfortable, and await the end any day now.

Except...my Ma was a NHS nurse for twenty five years, she was a sister in the QE11 in London. I've learnt a lot about medical ethics from her through the years, and have seen her recover from all sorts of terrible situations herself as he health has been really bad for years - she was in a coma for five days this time last year, we were told it was all over then, she woke up and told me she was starving for a plate of sweet and sour (anything except chicken) - and anyone telling me that my Ma had given up the fight gets told to get back to work and do everything that can be done, like she did when she was a nurse, and let her decide for herself if she wants to fight.

But they have priorites, see. Like, what do the poor lambs do if a 19 year old falls off his motorbike and they have to make a choice between who gets treatment - him or my Ma? Obviously I told the senior consultant I don't give two f*cks for his financial dilemma. Get to work on my Ma. But do I realise just how much it costs to do this or that or the other? No I don't. And I don't care either. She was a NHS nurse for years and years and this consultant wants me to give in on her behalf just in case some lad might fall off his scooter? Do your b*stard job lad. But what about her quality of life? That's her concern sunshine, not some consultants. If quality of life means just a few hours of being able to see everyone, to tell a joke or hear one, to say goodbye if that's where we are up to then...

So, back to last week, when she'd said "Leave me alone" and all bets were now off. We demand that the consultant asks her again. In front of us. He doesn't really see that there's any point - are we prepared, as a family, to have four nurses have to pin my Ma down while she is given an injection? Well, no, but we want to hear her say for herself if she has given in. Are we sure we want to distress ourselves? Yeah, we're sure, lets get in and see her. So he gives in, and we go in together. He shouts in her ear "Are you ok?" - no, she says. "Do you want any more treatment?" - no, she says. He looks round at us. He couldn't be any more smug, watching us react as my Ma seems to be saying...but hang on. She's looking narky and is struggling and keeps saying 'no'. Our kid says 'she hasnt got a clue what youre on about lad' so the doctor goes over for the last time. "Is that 'no I dont want any more treatment' or 'no I don't understand'?". She says she doesn't understand. The consultant looks gobsmacked and hasn't been near her ward since.

A week later, she is back on her treatment, getting dialysis and anti-biotics every day, and has told me to make sure her telly can get a good picture cos we'll all be round her hospital bed tomorrow watching the National. She loves the National. She starts going on about the big race and how it was in the old days. Tells me to bring some sweets in for the kids. She feels like she is getting stronger every day. She's told every doctor who has come near her that she is getting by without morphine for now thanks very much, she will ask for it if she feels she needs it and she understands (as a nurse herself) exactly what the implications are if she does.

I've been in a bit of a daze throughout, its a twilight zone when you are around the Royal all hours of the day and night. I just phoned one of my cousins to tell him how she is today. His response? "We'd have been stood around a grave today if we'd let that consultant have his way."

Sickens me to wonder how many families would have accepted that situation last week, and been robbed of even a few moments of being able to communicate with someone towards the end of their life, as the morphine trick sent them on their way quietly. Thankfully, we've had a few days so far and might have a few more days, weeks, months, maybe even longer with me arl girl telling us tales of Scottie Road and the Bully, and skitting us and enjoying a joke. That's a better quality of life than loads of miserable gets who can't raise a smile for themselves during their day.

Anyway, now that I've got that off my chest, she wants me to take her in some soup cos she's starving. I'll have to check how many coupons I've got left in my ration book cos, y'know, this country is on its knees. Doesn't need any more - what's the word? - oh aye...waste.

Dee · April 13, 2007

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