ASSISTING a suicide is a criminal offence. But 84% of Brits polled supported terminally ill people having the right to die. The Royal College of Physicians is neutral on an issue which provokes strong responses from those in favour and against.
Sarah Wootton of Dignity In Dying said: “In these divided times there is a cause that unites the majority – a more compassionate law for dying people.”
Alistair Thompson of Care Not Killing said: “There is no safe system of euthanasia or assisted dying anywhere in the world.”
Others have views based on religious beliefs as well as compassion.
I envy our last and very beloved dog Lucky, a black Labrador cross, upon whom Maria and I doted. When she was literally on her last legs and unable to stand, a vet came to our home and gave her an injection as she lay on the rug in front of the fire. She passed away quietly, with dignity and with the two of us by her side.
As I get older, I have my own views on death and, while I know you cannot compare ending a dog's life with that of ending a human life, I do wish there was an easier solution to the endgame that awaits us all.
Raymond Chandler's private eye Philip Marlowe named it the Big Sleep and, when I nod off for the last time, I will regret leaving life behind but hope to accept the inevitable in the manner of close chum Alex Kersey-Brown. He faced a year-long death sentence from cancer with equanimity, wit and the courage he had displayed throughout his life. What I fear more is losing my marbles. I have had friends who shuffled off this mortal coil not knowing who they were.
My wife's grandmother Mary, a staunch Catholic, would pray for those close to her to have an easy death which, at the time, I thought strange but now understand completely. Her own wasn't too bad.
The widow of Blackpool businessman Diamond Tony Colaluca, Mary had been a character who drank whisky and smoked King Edward cigars most of her life, until a doctor advised her to cut down. She switched to cheroots.
In her final weeks, infirm and at an advanced age, she continued taking her daily intake of whisky through a Tommee Tippee, although she had given up on the cheroots.
I confided my own concern to my eldest daughter and said: “If I start going daft, get me some pills.” To which she tartly replied: “How will we know?”
So, no help there, then. I'll just keep my fingers crossed and hope for an easy death.
Sarah Wootton of Dignity In Dying said: “In these divided times there is a cause that unites the majority – a more compassionate law for dying people.”
Alistair Thompson of Care Not Killing said: “There is no safe system of euthanasia or assisted dying anywhere in the world.”
Others have views based on religious beliefs as well as compassion.
I envy our last and very beloved dog Lucky, a black Labrador cross, upon whom Maria and I doted. When she was literally on her last legs and unable to stand, a vet came to our home and gave her an injection as she lay on the rug in front of the fire. She passed away quietly, with dignity and with the two of us by her side.
As I get older, I have my own views on death and, while I know you cannot compare ending a dog's life with that of ending a human life, I do wish there was an easier solution to the endgame that awaits us all.
Raymond Chandler's private eye Philip Marlowe named it the Big Sleep and, when I nod off for the last time, I will regret leaving life behind but hope to accept the inevitable in the manner of close chum Alex Kersey-Brown. He faced a year-long death sentence from cancer with equanimity, wit and the courage he had displayed throughout his life. What I fear more is losing my marbles. I have had friends who shuffled off this mortal coil not knowing who they were.
My wife's grandmother Mary, a staunch Catholic, would pray for those close to her to have an easy death which, at the time, I thought strange but now understand completely. Her own wasn't too bad.
The widow of Blackpool businessman Diamond Tony Colaluca, Mary had been a character who drank whisky and smoked King Edward cigars most of her life, until a doctor advised her to cut down. She switched to cheroots.
In her final weeks, infirm and at an advanced age, she continued taking her daily intake of whisky through a Tommee Tippee, although she had given up on the cheroots.
I confided my own concern to my eldest daughter and said: “If I start going daft, get me some pills.” To which she tartly replied: “How will we know?”
So, no help there, then. I'll just keep my fingers crossed and hope for an easy death.
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