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To die with dignity

Elnor Barkley

It seems to be the cry of every person over 60 who makes out a “living trust” or personal will. “Let me die with dignity,” these people say when asked about life-support machines.

We have no clue as to what that phrase really means to the medical profession. Our family argued with the nurses when my father was dying. No life-support meant no food, no water, only oxygen and painkillers, they said. We watched him starve to death.

His “living trust” said that he wanted to die with dignity. How did he live? He shared a lovely home with his wife, where children, grandchildren and stepchildren were free to come and visit. They had a boat and RV and travelled all over the country. He was a lumberjack and retired postal worker. He had a long and lengthy career as a minister and Bible teacher, and he didn’t need a microphone when he sang. Now he had simply asked to be allowed to die with dignity.

Those who know about such things tell us that we begin to die the day we are born, so when does this dignity begin? Look around you and see the number of families who are living a life of poverty rather than dignity.

I recently surveyed a number of my peers who are at the “senior citizen” level. This is what I found.

Case #1

I was informed that the 17-storey senior housing building where one of them lives, sways in the wind. Her daughter and son-in-law have given her a small freezer, for which she must pay an extra dollar a month for the extra electricity it uses. Her small kitchen has very little storage space. When it is time to walk the dog, it must be carried down to the dog run in a travel cage. Last year, she underwent exploratory surgery for cancer. She is grateful that they didn’t find any. Who took care of her while she was recuperating? Other than her one daughter, who came periodically, she was on her own.

Case #2

Another had a ground floor apartment. Her personal collection of lifetime memories barely fits in the tiny rooms. They only take 30% of her income for rent, and she is grateful. Just tiptoe carefully through the living room on your way to the bathroom lest you knock something over, and please remember to put the plug back in the tub drain after your shower so the roaches don’t come into the house through the plumbing. The kitchen cabinets are too high for her, so pots, pans and canned goods are stacked on open shelving down on the floor level. The air conditioning unit in her car needs repairs. Since the heat index has been over 100 for weeks, she is limited in the activities in which she can participate. She is a singer, but has had to cancel some shows because her car won’t make it there. She does most of her performances as a volunteer, but often the organizations she sings for will slip her an envelope with a few dollars in it. She is an excellent seamstress and could pick up a few extra dollars each month doing alterations if she could get around to place her business cards in local stores.

Case #3

A male friend who is wheelchair bound lives in a one-bedroom apartment. Sometimes he and the other lady entertain guests at a seniors’ centre since they are both musicians. It is the only time you will hear him sing in public although he has a marvellous baritone voice. People who know him have asked why he doesn’t sing at his church. He replies, “I am lucky just to get there!” The church bus doesn’t come around that often anymore. There doesn’t seem to be any room in that congregation for a one-legged, blind-in-one-eye baritone singer in a wheelchair. His apartment is not made for a wheelchair. He must grip both sides of the door and catapault his chair up over the door ledge just to get into the place. He gets around fairly well once he is inside because the kitchen, dining area and living room are all one big open room. It is always messy, however, because he cannot see things that drop to the floor. The refrigerator is a disaster. Half-eaten TV dinners are in open containers. They will be warmed up some day or added to something that was secretly carried home from the seniors’ centre lunch table. He’s not allowed to say grace there anymore. Someone complained, and now they are only allowed a moment of silence. The shelf in the fridge is lined with milk cartons whose date he cannot read. His only way of telling whether or not the milk is sour is to open it and smell it. The door to his bedroom is barely wide enough for his wheelchair to pass through. If he goes in frontward, there is no room for him to turn around and come back out again. He must back through the door, which often causes him to crash into the doorframe, leaving little dents for which he will probably be charged when he leaves, if he leaves alive. Because of this, he often is not able to get to the bathroom in time during the night and must hop around in the small hours of the morning attempting to put clean sheets on his bed. He must have help to bathe. He can no longer see the edges of the sidewalk at certain times of the day, so wheeling himself to the mailbox is an exercise in persistence. If he should tip over, he has to lie there until someone comes along.

Case #4

A relative in another state is working a full-time job after she and her husband separated. She lives near her daughter who has three children; she often takes care of them at night and on weekends so that the daughter and her husband can do errands. She lives in a small house where there is yard work to do. She is fighting her own battle with the illnesses of aging. Her six children are scattered all over North and South America. Except for the one who lives nearby, she sees them only at holidays. Most of them are involved in the church. This lady has been excommunicated after separating from her husband. Technically, her own children are not supposed to speak to her. She spends her spare time going over photographs of better times.

Case #5

I live in a trailer in a nice park in the mountains – in the mountains because it is an old trailer and the parks in the city don’t want it around. When winter hits, it takes extra carpeting and rags on top of that to warm the floors. I can stand at the stove and reach the fridge, trash can and sink without moving my feet. I don’t mind that. I am facing knee replacement surgery, so moving my feet anywhere is a challenge. Most of my food comes from the seniors’ centre. I get a hot meal there almost every day for just a few coins. Then they have free giveaway programs. It all comes in handy, but sometimes I wonder what I am really eating. How long was it in the store before it went to the food bank? How long was it there before it got sent to me? How long was it in my fridge before it got eaten? Is there any nutritional value left in it by now? Most of my wearing apparel is purchased at the seniors’ centre thrift store. I don’t remember the last time I bought something new. A friend loaned me enough money to buy another automobile when my old one died; I must make room in my monthly budget to repay her. A friend comes by once a month to mow my little patch of grass. A neighbour dug up a small garden so I could plant some vegetables. I am lucky if someone stops by once a week to check on me. My family are scattered all over the country. I might get a card from them on Mother’s Day. I look at the list of senior subsidized housing places and wonder if I should go to look at them. Would that be any better?

These people were not always in these situations.

Case #1	was a medical assistant and for many years took daily care of an elderly lady; she took training and became an ordained minister.
Case #2	was a recording artist who travelled extensively. Her shelves are filled with tapes of her recordings, and her filing cabinets are full of the songs she has written.
Case #3	is a former painter of beautiful signs for local stores; an English teacher; a writer of dramas and exquisite poetry; and a father, married to the same woman for 40 years until she left him for another man.
Case #4	is a former missionary to South America, sharing with her husband the workload of over 70 mission stations, a weekly television program and a daily radio broadcast. Highly respected and sought after for her knowledge, she was a skilled musician and speaks three languages fluently.
Case #5	I raised four kids and two stepchildren, travelled all over the country, speak two languages and have a career résumé several pages long.

“Let me die with dignity,” we cry. Those who have already been so fortunate probably had more dignity in their death than they did in the years prior to it.

Tell the children, tell the youth, tell the young adults – Don’t wait until you think you are going to die to claim your right to dignity. Claim it while you are young and healthy. Instead of that gorgeous house that you don’t have time to enjoy and the fancy cars that get dented, put your money into trustworthy investments that are going to be there for you when you are unable to work anymore.

Why must the elderly live in shame and squalor in order to “die with dignity”? What can be done to turn this around? Have the churches failed to teach the care of “widows and orphans” as we are admonished to do in Scriptures? When did we stop loving our neighbour?

Elnor Barkley lives in Yarnell, Arizona.

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Last modified January 14, 2002.

© 2002 Mennonite Brethren Herald.
Published by the Canadian Conference of MB Churches.
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