I always find it interesting that the euthanasia debate pops up in the media quite regularly, but that we don’t ever seem to get anywhere with passing a law about it. Perhaps the day will come when that changes, but until then, it means that individuals and their families (and often the medical staff) are left in a legal limbo, where euthanasia or assisted suicide happens everyday, but behind closed doors, and without a broader conversation.
On the weekend, a friend got some news about his mother. She has been sick with a chronic condition for a while now, but in recent weeks, her health has gone downhill. She’s had to accept some intervention which indicate that ultimately, the end is coming, sooner rather than later. It’s sobering.
Even though she has been sick for a while, and we’ve all known that the disease is terminal, it’s still confronting. I pondered on it a lot last night, and talked it over with the Handsome Sidekick. For most of us, I suppose (although I certainly don’t have the figures) we don’t have a long time to contemplate our imminent deaths, especially if that death comes earlier than expected. I’m sure we’d all like to imagine we’ll live a long and healthy life and that the end of it, have a comfortable, and hopefully quick, death.
Yes, I’ve been a little remiss with the links lately. Who knew summer holidays, swimming lessons, stationery shopping and work (plus the usual busy-ness) would keep me run off my feet these last several weeks? Well, everyone, probably, but it still always comes as a surprise to me that there are not enough hours in the day.
We’re expecting a warm day today–not as warm as Perth, but still summery–and I hope to be able to pick the last of the boysenberries and pretend to get organised for another school week (but no doubt I’ll end up working and/or reading a book and patting the cat. Possibly taking the dog for a walk. Maybe eating some cake…)
Enjoy the links!
So as you probably know, both David Bowie and Alan Rickman died last week, and the news hit me harder than I expected. Perhaps it’s because in both cases, the news came to everyone, except those very close to them, as a shock. Perhaps it’s because several friends’ parents or parents-in-law have died recently. All I know is that after I’d put our Offpsring to bed, on the evening after I’d heard about Bowie’s death, I was clearing up the plates and setting the dishwasher going, and I found myself holding back tears. And then I realised why.
My elders are dying, and I’m not ready.
I hadn’t heard about ‘FOMO’ until I read about it in an article. Apparently, it’s really a thing! Through social media, people can tailor their online presence to appear to have a certain kind of life, and others who view this presentation then fret about why they don’t have that, too (Fear Of Missing Out).
That’s not news. That’s always happened. It’s always been the case that it’s easy to look at someone else’s life and believe that they have it better. We’ve always imagined that movie stars are all tremendously rich and confident and popular, when the reality is that they’re just people, and while they might have more money at their disposal which means they can afford more ‘stuff’, it doesn’t follow that they’re any more content than your average person.
Their internet persona just makes it seem as if they do.
Several years ago, probably around the time First Offspring was born, the Handsome Sidekick and I bought a will kit. Inside were two wills, and clear, easy-to-understand instructions on how to fill out the will. This should be a breeze! we thought.
When First Offspring was about nine months old, we moved house. I found the will kit. Should get around to doing that, I thought. We lived in the new house for almost exactly six years. While packing to go, I found the will kit again. By this stage, First Offspring had three siblings. Making a will seemed more important than ever, given we had four young people to consider.
This post discusses suicide. I know this topic is triggering to some, and so I will continue below the cut.
Good Sunday to you! My Offspring are threatening to break down the door so I’m just going to dispense with lengthy introductions and leave you with some weekend reading:
I was working on a piece about hunger and food insecurity this week, and really enjoying doing some research, when I came across this article [please note, trigger warning for death of a child, and child abuse] and knew that it was something I needed to write about instead. Given the upsetting nature of the topic, I’ll put the rest of this post behind a cut.
Years ago, when the Handsome Sidekick and I were still child- and fancy-free, we lived in an inner city rental, where the roof leaked and the garden was in shade for about 7 months of the year. It was a trendy suburb with fairly mimimal rent (which may have had something to do with the leaking roof and the redundant clothesline) and after being there a few weeks, we adopted two cats: Sasha, and Indiana. The townhouse was on quite a busy road, so we were careful about letting the cats out—we waited until they were a few months old, and even then, brought them in before bed and didn’t let them out until morning.
You can see where this is going, can’t you?