Past any conversation, such as when I wiped her bum, “What a bloody nuisance I turned out to be.”
She sat there confused and very distressed. More drugs to keep her dopey. Past “getting” any little jokes.
Would I finish her today (if I could)? Well, she didn’t seem too bad today. She could feed herself nicely but weighted nothing, reminded me of a bird that had flown into a window pane. Kaput. Counting, “One, Two, Three…”
But still, she was my mum, and I loved her. And Dad didn’t see there was anything wrong with her. He was even older, ninety-something.
No, leave it till tomorrow…
Taken from a series of comments over at KB by a Dennis Horne, it is the best commentary against this sudden desire for voluntary euthanasia I've seen.
For those so called libertarians amongst us that wish to change the law he tells exactly how it is. As it is said, don't knock it till you've been there.
One day it might be you sitting there having to make that decision for someone loved.