He played a mean game of tennis and enjoyed a drink and banter with his fellow attorneys. After months in the Iron Lung, he survived, went to university, married and later had three children.ĭashing as a young and even sick older man who looked a bit like Johnny Carson, Dad hid his handicap well. Born into a world of turmoil and World War, he was stricken by polio in the 1950s while still a young man. Looking back at his life, it’s amazing that my father even lived to adulthood. But then you get a lethal dose of drugs, and you can die as best as anyone really can, unafraid and at a relative peace. Oregon’s 1997 Death with Dignity Act requires consultations with two doctors who confirm a person is terminal and will die within six months, certification that the persons is of sound mind, and then two verbal requests for a prescription. Had Dad lived just 400 miles further north, he would have had access to the same options that Brittany chose. Disease never does, but maybe the law can. Although he battled terminal illness, the state of California would not let him choose how to die. My father suffered far more than anyone should at the end of their days. While millions already view Brittany’s death as tragic, to me, she is a new kind of hero. The story of 29-year-old Brittany Maynard, who moved her family from Northern California to Oregon so she could die with dignity under the state’s law, captured international attention and sparked an ongoing debate in the United States about how exactly we should be allowed to die – and when. Within a week of arriving at hospice, he died of polio, scared and angry. We kept him at home on his Northern California farm for as long as possible, but eventually he moved into a nearby hospice facility in town. He became belligerent towards his loved ones for keeping him alive. In the final months of his life, my dad pleaded with his children just to let him die.
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