State Assisted Suicide for the terminally ill in neoliberal economies is another box tick for dystopia, if we don't fix poverty first.

It’s funny how this piece I wrote on State assisted suicide for those with terminal illnesses first draft began with me encountering Esther Rantzen, in a lift in 2017. But I am glad I left her there in the lift because I remembered the old hunter I met, five years ago, who was dying of throat and jaw cancer. He better exemplifies how ordinary people must face their end.

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On an autumn day in 2018,  the leaves on the trees were the colour of rust, and they shimmered in a warm sun that made you think summer hadn't left town. But it had and all that remained was false hope that the warm weather would continue on forever. It was a funny day fr false promises and cold facts, if hot for me for a man who shared a hospital room with my dad who was there to treat a persistent UTI. 

I was visiting and the bright sunlight  made me squint as it blazed through the window into the hospital room where my dad lay in his bed staring at the ceiling and the man next to him used a device to clear the gob from his throat because he couldn't swallow well anymore.

The man sharing the room with my dad was in rough shape. He younger than my dad-somewhere in his 60s. He was dying of cancer, which had destroyed his jaw and throat. The only food the man could eat was ice cream, which the hospital provided him in abundance.

As I read to my dad, his oncologist visited. She wanted to talk about his options when it came to his end of life. I asked the patient if he wanted me to leave the room. He said something to the effect that dead men have no secrets.

The conversation with his doctor was a forlorn breeze of phrases that drifted about the room with a menacing finiteness.

"There's little time, we can do no more. It will get bad for you because there are no more good days left".

The doctor argued strongly and compassionately for him to consider a drug cocktail to make his death more immediate and less painful.

The gist was, that he had weeks left and soon enough, he wouldn't even be able to eat ice cream. "It was his time," the doctor said.

The man with terminal cancer thanked the doctor and said he'd talk it over with his wife. His voice was raspy from cancer. But it still had a tone that made me think, he had used that line on a hundred salespeople when he didn't want to say no outright out of curtesy.

After the oncologist left- he muttered, "fuck."

It was said, loud enough, that I asked if he was alright.

I am fine. But I should be hunting this weekend rather than dying. That's all." Then in a whisper he said, "I am not a quitter."

It seemed cruel to end my conversation with him. So, I asked him about hunting- where he did and with whom. .

I am not a hunter nor a gun owner, but this man was, and I thought it was proper that he was allowed to speak about the activity that gave him pleasure- perhaps even meaning- beyond the humdrumness of punching a clock for forty-plus years.

I don't know if the man took the assisted suicide route or whether he was killed outright by the cancer. But I do know he was offered a humane exit by his doctor.

The problem is few of us get the option of a happy death. Poverty,  despair, loneliness, and lack of affordable housing play a significant role in whether someone who fits the criteria for assisted suicide chooses it. The assisted suicide program in Canada is too often being utilised by people because they don’t have the necessary supports to remain living with their terminal condition. Their quality of life has been ruined more by poverty than the ravages of their disease.

There is talk now of bringing assisted suicide to Britain as a humane measure for those with incurable conditions to exit this mortal coil.

After fourteen years of austerity, the paint has peeled on the notion society is compassionate. Hard times for a decade-plus have exposed a deep vein of indifference and callousness by those, who are in government, the mainstream news media or the top income earners to those who struggle.

They aren't even hiding it anymore. Matthew Parris' article in today's Times indicates a strong leaning of eugenics for those too sick and too poor to afford healthcare. His column suggested Britain' should introduce legalised assisted suicide for those with incurable conditions as it reduced  a burden on taxpayers. Euthanasia in a society that blithely ignores poverty, racism, and genocide in other lands is just another box ticked off to confirm you live in a dystopia.

Neoliberalism is an ideology whose main tenant is the privatisation of state assets. It monetises all things living as well as all things inanimate or conceptional. It is only a matter of time before assisted suicide would be monetised and put into the hands of a private agency that bought the license from the government to deliver death to those facing terminal illness. Now what can go wrong with that? 

When  politicians tell you they want happy deaths for everyone regardless of income don't believe them. They never wanted us to have a happy life free of want. They never wanted the vulnerable to be accorded benefits that would provide them a dignified life. They never wanted housing to be plentiful or affordable. And they never wanted wages to be fair. So it is stretch to believe them that dignity in death is their creed. 

As always, thank you for reading my sub stack posts because I really need your help this month. In fact with only 36 hours left my rent for April is yet to be shored up. Your subscriptions to Harry’s Last Stand keep the legacy of Harry Leslie Smith alive and me housed. So if you can join with a paid subscription which is just 3.50 a month or a yearly subscription or a gift subscription. I promise the content is good, relevant and thoughtful. Take Care, John