A friend died today. That phrase, all too familiar when one collects friends with ALS. What was noteworthy for me, was my reaction to it; I was enraged. An example of frontotemporal disease, the emotion-altering gift to 10% of ALS sufferers? Or an understandable reaction to this debilitating disease? Or I'm just an a**hole? You be the judge; I can't stop you anyway.
My first reaction to the news was grief; tears streamed down my face, as I recalled her effervescent personality. I only met her a few years ago during an ALS event. She was magnetic; you wanted to be lucky enough to be in her orbit.
If she was attractive, the added combination of her husband's devotion, and her faithful sidekick, a lovely retriever, made her impossible to resist. If I'm unflinchingly honest, I coveted her life, with or without ALS. Her husband never abandoned her, never left her to steal her last vacation, and probably cuddled her in bed toward the end. Her community came together to support her. So did her family.
My rage stemmed from my, unfounded, thought that she must have taken the easy way out, assisted suicide. Mind, that I admit that I know nothing. But, my brain took off down the erroneous path of ego.
My pity party, masked as indignation, knew no bounds. I thank the good Lord for restraint of pen and tongue (and computer) without which I would surely shown my poo-stained knickers, so to speak.
We all have our "crosses to bear". Everybody has their own experience, their own breaking point, their own line in the sand, and we deserve the right to make our own choice (and not be scorned for it). I was guilty of shaming (albeit, in my head). I'm Team Choice and I did my friend an injustice.
I feel ashamed.
My first reaction to the news was grief; tears streamed down my face, as I recalled her effervescent personality. I only met her a few years ago during an ALS event. She was magnetic; you wanted to be lucky enough to be in her orbit.
If she was attractive, the added combination of her husband's devotion, and her faithful sidekick, a lovely retriever, made her impossible to resist. If I'm unflinchingly honest, I coveted her life, with or without ALS. Her husband never abandoned her, never left her to steal her last vacation, and probably cuddled her in bed toward the end. Her community came together to support her. So did her family.
My rage stemmed from my, unfounded, thought that she must have taken the easy way out, assisted suicide. Mind, that I admit that I know nothing. But, my brain took off down the erroneous path of ego.
Assisted suicide is the easier, softer way. She knew nothing of the deprivation of hearth and home; knew nothing of being betrayed by the one who vowed to love, honor, and obey until death do you part; knew nothing of loved ones leaving you to "the system"; knew nothing of having to endure the indignities of being discriminated against due to your illness you didn't ask for.
My pity party, masked as indignation, knew no bounds. I thank the good Lord for restraint of pen and tongue (and computer) without which I would surely shown my poo-stained knickers, so to speak.
We all have our "crosses to bear". Everybody has their own experience, their own breaking point, their own line in the sand, and we deserve the right to make our own choice (and not be scorned for it). I was guilty of shaming (albeit, in my head). I'm Team Choice and I did my friend an injustice.
I feel ashamed.
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