Dean Balaes

Guest Columnist

Dean Balaes is a dual degree student attending both Vanderbilt Divinity School and Law School.

"It’s not the death; it's the dying I’m scared of," cried my uncle. He lived to the ripe old age of 72. He just retired, and the idea of using his golden years to travel the world with his wife totally excited him.

He was hitting the gym, eating healthily, and preparing himself for his new adventure. He even lost that stubborn 10 pounds.

Over the next months, he began to notice some more unwelcome changes in his body; his hands didn’t have the same strength as they once did, but he dismissed the symptom.

Soon, more serious concerns arose. His legs start to give, and he was having trouble swallowing. Doctors couldn’t figure out what’s wrong until it became evident that he had Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis (ALS).

We did not respect his wishes to let him pass

The later stages of his disease robbed him of the ability to walk, talk, or clean himself without aid. His life was agony, and his dream of traveling the world was gone.

The devastating effects of ALS raises the question: Should the terminally ill have the freedom to die before the advanced stages of the disease deteriorates their quality of life? Should we force loved ones to live such that, when death finally arrives, we find ourselves saying, "at least he or she is no longer in pain"?

Although my uncle’s prognosis was grim and offered no hope, there are instances when it’s clear that we should persevere because the future holds greater promise.

Heart disease or cancer patients, for example, undergo numerous surgeries and treatments to liberate themselves from illness.

For my uncle, there was no greater promise. "Just let me die," he begged. "I don’t want to live like this."

It was one of the saddest moments in my life knowing that I could only squeeze his hand and offer encouragement to "just hold on."

We should be allowed to make decisions over our bodies

I wish I could have helped him die. Instead, we ignored his wishes, and forced him to live to the bitter end. Don't we shorten life all the time? We smoke, drink, eat fast food, and stress ourselves to death. Why is it socially acceptable to slowly, but not immediately, kill yourself? Wouldn't it be cruel to ease our animals out of their pain, but look on as our loved ones suffer to the death?

The right to die would not have been the destruction of my uncle's freedom, but respect for it. We forget that freedom means that we should have the ability to do what we want, when and how we want it, with the obvious disclaimer that individuals should be free from threats, violence, and especially, meddling.

Even God, in the story of Adam and Eve respected Eve’s liberty to choose or not choose from the tree. God can cast down orders, but whether we listen is for individuals to decide. In the context of terminal illness, we should be allowed to make decisions over our bodies with an understanding of the prospects and the costs.

Objectors may argue that suicide destroys all freedom of choice, because when you’re dead, you have no liberty. But in my uncle’s case, he had little physical liberty to actualize his hopes and could no longer function in society, but he still retained his beliefs and values about his body.

Some doctors might appeal to abstract principles like "do no harm," but should this excuse doctors from asking the moral question: Is it a harm if I ignore the patient’s, definition of what constitutes a harm and what counts as self-determination over one’s body?

A likely objection is that doctors should only treat diseases, and assisted death constitutes harm because death stops the treatment of such disease. This argument places doctors in the role of impersonal technicians. Take ER doctors, for example. They swoop in and offer pills or surgery to treat the problem, and swoop out.

Impersonal approaches to patients should not be a social norm. Patients must insist that treatment appropriate to the patient is not divorced from their values and beliefs. Patients must remind doctors that their role is to serve patients as trusted advisers rather than readily relinquish their agency to doctors who treat them as specimens.

True courage is what one does even in the absence of hope. My uncle believed that no good arose from forcing him to live. Without the state offering a path to a dignified death, terminally ill individuals are forced to struggle until hospice provides the necessary amount of morphine for the double effects of weakened heart and lung function for death to arrive.

My uncle would argue for another, less tortured way to meet his maker.

Dean Balaes is a dual degree student attending both Vanderbilt Divinity School and Law School.