‘I think this might be the end,’ she messages. But it’s been the end before. My grandmother is well into her nineties, slowly collapsing into a shadow of herself. The last eighteen months have been punctuated with multiple ‘ends’ that haven’t ‘ended’.
The tail end of life is a lengthy journey over hilly terrain. The path is invisible at the crest of each mound. One day, the journey will indeed be complete, but for now we ride across the hills with her, each growing in magnitude.
I try to remind myself that this is the best-case scenario for us all: that we may live long enough not to be brought down by some sudden, cataclysmic event but by the slow aging of our bodies.
Still, the conversation back from the multiple hospital trips is always the same: Christ I hope euthanasia is legalized by the time we need it. Indeed, it seems all but inevitable.
The Voluntary Assisted Dying Act was passed in Queensland Parliament in 2021 and enacted in January 2023. Those who meet a strict set of criteria may have access to voluntary assisted dying. They must have been diagnosed (independently by multiple sources) with an advanced, progressive medical condition expected to cause death within twelve months. States across the country have introduced similar pieces of legislation.
This is the beginning, but legislation is likely to grow. Belgium is considered to have the most liberal euthanasia laws in the world. It offers euthanasia not only for terminally ill patients but for those suffering from severe and incurable mental or physical conditions.
To be clear: I have no desire for my grandmother to die, but my desire has very little to do with it. The more potent reality is that she will certainly die, and I will too. I have no desire to inflict the emotional turmoil upon my daughters that my mother is currently experiencing. I would much prefer, when the time comes, to make a decision that preserves dignity and harnesses the grieving process.
It’s time to go. Let’s throw a party or two, sort our business out, and say goodnight.
I have written one play on this issue. Thirteen years after writing it, it remains in my head. One of those ‘one day’ plays that never sees the light of day. It had a brief development at La Boite more than a decade ago, and sparked interest then.
In truth, I think I was too young to write it. Looking at the draft now, I can see sparks of something, but it has the consistency of unshaped clay. It was inspired by my grandmother directly. I was inquisitive about the conversations behind the closed doors in her marriage of multiple decades.
So, I created two characters settling into their twilight years and set up a central dramatic tension. One wants to die, and the other doesn’t. Hilarity and tragedy ensue. It felt dangerous to write then and overwhelmingly tricky now. Even if a company backed it, how do you market such a thing?
Come see a comedy about euthanasia.
Yeah, right Dave.
Still, like so many other ‘one day’ plays, I dream of excavating it one day, writing it properly, and seeing it staged with two killer, elder statesmen of the acting community.
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