Not Dead Yet

“Not dead yet.” That phrase has been on my mind almost constantly for the past few days. It’s the name and/or slogan for a disability rights organization most specifically focused on campaigning against the “death with dignity” lobby.

Though I am 100% in support of every individual’s right to die when and how they want, the key here is “individual”. This means no-one should be pressured into dying either by family members or relatives, doctors or the government. This is why the phrase resonates with me.

My best friend and I are now almost officially divorced. I say “almost” because we’ll still separately have to talk to a lawyer via a video call next week. I however already updated my Facebook status and told my parents. This may’ve been a mistake less than two weeks before my birthday, but I can’t undo it now.

My parents are saying they’re worried I’ll end up lonely in the institution. No amount of me telling them nothing’s changed about the relationship with my best friend, convinces them otherwise. They’ve actually invited me (and explicitly just me, without my best friend) for dinner at a local-to-me restaurant on my birthday. Too bad I’ll already be meeting my best friend.

That’s not the worst though. The worst are all the comments my mother made on the phone about how she’d rather die than live like this, how hard it is for her to see relatives in care facilities, how I’ve only deteriorated over the past 20 years, etc. She herself claims she’s already made plans of ending her life in the event my father passes before her. I respect that choice, because like I said I’m all for the right to die. But it has to be a right. The way my mother spoke, it made me feel pressured to end my own life.

As poor as my quality of life is at times, I’d still like to be the one making the decision whether it’s so unbearable without a prospect of improvement that I’d rather be dead. I don’t need my parents’ opinion on that. And at this point, I’m choosing to stay alive whether my parents like it or not.