25/06/2025
Welcome to Wednesday my dear
I’m doing something a little risky today and I may lose some of you along the way, but you know, this is only my opinion and I did think twice about posting it.
I’m relieved that the Assisted Dying Bill (Terminally Ill Adults End Of Life Bill) passed its vote in the House of Commons.
I know there is still a long way to go before it hopefully becomes law, but on the whole, I think it’s a good thing.
I can’t tell you how many families I’ve sat with across the years who, in some way, expressed the wish that their loved one could have had access to an assisted death.
The pain that some families witness is awful. Not as awful as the pain being suffered by their loved ones, but still a pain that leaves a scar.
We don’t want the people we love to die. But we don’t want them to suffer unnecessarily.
Another thing I hear so often is, ‘we weren’t ready to say goodbye’ and I get that. I understand it totally.
But as guests at the party of life, we should have the power to say, ‘well it’s all been rather lovely, but I’m leaving now, thanks for the fun’.
I totally understand people taking a different approach to this based on their beliefs but your personal belief should not be considered any more important than the next persons. Which is why mine is no more important than someone who objects to this law. I’m simply expressing my reasons as to why I do support the changes.
If you choose life, and all that entails, then that is your choice. Nothing in this bill changes that.
I merely suggest that your choice should not supersede mine.
How does my choice of assisted dying prevent you from living?
If I ever arrive in the position of knowing I’m going to die, that I have mere months to live and no chance of recovery; if I am told that there will be excruciating pain and/or loss of control over my body; then I would certainly like to consider having the pain free and dignified end to my life as an option.
I’ve watched people die. I held the hand of one man who collapsed in the street in front of me. His transition from life to death was sudden and as far as I could tell, pain free.
I’ve also seen death take people inch by inch, day by day, and I believe, given the choice of finding a release, they would have taken it.
The reason we often say at funerals, ‘they died peacefully’ is we know it may bring a little comfort to those who are left behind. But I cannot always say that, because it is not always true.
We are not always honest about how awful death is and how traumatising that transition from life to death can be.
Life is precious and should be lived fully. We should seek joy wherever we can, find love and revel in its beauty. We should be kind and supportive and positive in our day to day relationship with the world and the people in it.
But our life is a finite resource, we will die.
Why not have the same control over that, when needed, than to be able to choose everything else legally available to us in life?
You can refuse medical help. You can refuse to eat and drink. You can do almost anything when it comes to making choices about your body, your life. But you can’t choose to escape pain and suffering?
It’s a really short thing, a life, compared to the eons of time that have passed and will continue to pass, long after we are forgotten.
Its relative brevity makes it even more precious.
In universal terms, we are like a Mayfly:
Think how fast a year flies by�A month flies by�A week flies by�Think how fast a day flies by�A Mayfly’s life lasts but a day
A Mayfly flies a single day�The daylight dies and darkness grows�A single day�How fast it flies�A Mayfly’s life�How fast it goes
Mary Ann Hoberman
When the time comes and as the daylight dies and darkness grows, I’m relieved that I might now have the light of hope, that my transition from life to death CAN & WILL be peaceful.
I wish the same for everyone when their time comes.
