Life: What's it worth?!

Next month, voters in our state will have a big decision to make -- yes, we'll be helping elect the next President of the United States, and the the next Governor of Washington, and probably many other elected positions that I've never heard of. But we'll also be voting on the Value of Life. Okay, so this doesn't necessarily sound intuitive, but really that's what I-1000 Death with "Dignity" Assisted Suicide measure is all about.

If we vote to pass this measure, what we're really telling people is sure, you count. - you matter while you're well. But the moment you're ill? Well, you're not really valued any more. So sure, go ahead and kill yourself. Wow. That's quite possibly the saddest thing that I've ever heard. Every person matters.

I say this from experience.

When I was 10 years-old, my father was diagnosed with melanoma in the form of a brain tumor. The oncologist, who first saw the CT in the presence of my mother, was rather blunt about it, "It looks like melanoma. We'll do a biopsy just to confirm, but I know that I'm right. There's no chance -- you might as well start saying goodbye now." He certainly wasn't much for bedside manner, but he was a damn good oncologist. And he was right -- my father died just three short months later. Had this measure been in effect, he would have been a candidate for assisted suicide - death with "dignity".

I assure you, he would have never done it.

I also assure you that he died with dignity.

Despite being young, I remember it very clearly. My grandparents were visiting from out of town. It was a Monday of a 3 day-weekend and it was also my 11th birthday. We were going to go to the Coast to celebrate. I was so looking forward to it. I fell asleep the night before with butterflies in my stomach from excitement and I awoke the next morning feeling rather ill: there was commotion in the house and it didn't sound good. I could hear my mother frantically on the phone with the emergency operator. My father, though conscious and lucid, was paralyzed on one side and unable to speak.

One of the first responders to our home was our former neighbour and a friend of my father. Assessing the situation, he asked my father if he recognized him. One tear slid down my father's cheek -- it was his way of saying, "yes". My brother and I watched all of this from a distance and were eventually ushered out of the room. After my father was loaded on the gurney and was being wheeled away, our uncle told us to say goodbye. I don't remember if I did or not. I'd like to think that I did, though, as it was the last time I saw my father conscious. He slipped into a coma later that day and peacefully died three days later, with my mother at his side.

It was most certainly a dignified death.

Those three months from my father's diagnosis till his death were amazing, though difficult -- in retrospect, I value every single moment of them. Assisted suicide could have taken that away from us. Sure, we knew he was dying. Hell, he knew he was dying. And it was hard. There were hot, angry tears, and screams of frustration -- there were even moments when I wished that he wasn't my dad and that I wasn't part of this family. But there were the sweet moments, too -- the quiet, family moments. Being at bat in a softball game and hearing my dad shout out my name in support. (This is especially meaningful, because I sucked at softball.) Board game nights in the evenings and even yes, doing homework while my dad was looking on. My dad was using every moment to make memories with us. And in his living - and even in his death - I learned so much from him. I am forever grateful and I wouldn't trade a minute of those last three months. I know that he wouldn't have traded them either...

My Dad and me.

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Not that it's so unlike me to digress, but I actually logged on to share an audio clip. Our priest, and dear friend, Fr. Tom, was on the radio yesterday discussing his diagnosis of Stage IVb esophageal cancer and sharing his thoughts on the I-1000 measure, the so-called "death with dignity" initiative. We are all very hopeful for Fr. Tom. But living with such a diagnosis does give him a unique perspective to discuss this measure. Before going on the radio, he wrote on his blog, "I ask the Lord to bless my words as I will speak against the initiative and for life, mercy and compassion." Those of you who know Fr. Tom can attest that his words are always guided by the Holy Spirit. His time on the radio was no exception -- if anything though, his words were even more filled with grace. If you haven't already heard his 1/2 hour interview on the "Conversations with Fr. Bob" radio show, you can listen to it (or podcast it) here. I encourage you listen; it's truly amazing. And of course, please do keep Fr. Tom in your prayers.