My right to die

I've found something to say, so here goes.
When our animals suffer, we put them down. They die a dignified death, but we do not extend that same privilege to ourselves. Instead, as humans we are conditioned to suffer, to push the body to its limit, anything to avoid death. And this is something I simply do not understand. When a human being suffering from a disease wishes to go gently into that good night, he is not allowed to end it all. What’s so noble about that? Age is debilitating, illness even more.
We claim to have achieved so much as a society, but when it comes to death, we fall back on medieval practices. So, the doctors will pump you with every possible, horrible painkiller, medication and whatnot, to keep you alive. You cannot walk, cannot think, drool like an infant, and you’re wasting away, but you’re alive, and that’s what couns. Shall we all rejoice?
We send our soldiers to die, turn a deaf ear to genocide and religious cleansing, but we cling on to this right that we think we have: The right to live.
But what about my right to die? Why should the government decide that I don’t have the right to die? When I am old and my mind is addled, or when I’m suffering from cancer or some other painful disease, I don’t want to live. I want the same right that my dog has. Instead, I’ll have to find some horrible, bloody way to end it all. There’s no comfort in that, no dignity. I keep thinking of Dorothy Parker’s little ditty:
Razors pain you;
Rivers are damp;
Acids stain you;
And drugs cause cramp.
Guns aren’t lawful;
Nooses give;
Gas smells awful;
You might as well live.
And so we live. Life goes on, until death comes for us. And we watch as the mind fails and the body weakens – helpless to do anything.
My grandfather, I’m told, spends most of his time sleeping. He is old and weary. He has nothing to say to anyone anymore. And he lives with my grandmum in a big empty house, waking up only to eat and bathe. He is dying, the family whispers. No, he’s not. After 90 years on this Earth, he wants out. But no one is listening to him.
I hope that when my body (and mind) begins to disintegrate rapidly, society will allow me my right to die. But I’m not placing any bets on that one.