My Own Choice to Die
One quiet summer afternoon I lay gazing into the big, blue sky watching the clouds form into immense moving objects that catch my eye for a second. I saw everything from birds to alligators and occasionally a car or bus. While staring at the sky in a world of my own I heard a clamor coming from the front of the house. I turned over on my stomach peering through the tall pampas grass that landscapes our backyard. I lay gazing through the grass as if I was a jungle cat searching for its next victim. I could not see anything so I faced the sky, once again, and enjoyed the sights and sounds of summer. I was in a daydream when I opened my eyes to see a young redheaded girl with skinned up and pig tails peering down upon me. Most of my friends would have run off yelling, "girl alert or "cooties" but I just sat there in the soft turf grass in a daze. From that second on I believe that both of would be friends for a lifetime. April moved into the vacant house that was two houses to the east of my house. It was a tall, two-story house in which I could see the entire house from my bedroom window. We spent our days together exploring the woods, riding bikes, and catching bugs. Our families were very close and often said that the two of us were like brother and sister. One calm summer night April and I climbed to the top of the garage and lay on our backs staring at the thousands of stars in the black summer sky. The garage wasn't tall; in fact, it was perfect because we could sit up there without worrying about sliding off. That night we talked about everything that was on our minds. I will never forget that night because it was so beautiful outside. The tree frogs and crickets were performing their evening melodies, and the man on the moon was looking down upon us. After talking for nearly an hour we decided that it was time we should head home. I walked April to her house because I she had to be home before I did. As I was leaving April guaranteed me that she would be over first thing in the morning to start our day of fun.
Physician-assisted suicide (PAS) is a topic, which proponents often support by the affirmation of patient free will or as the exercise of patient autonomy. The purpose of this paper is to examine this argument further from an inter-disciplinary approach, regarding PAS from medical, ethical and legal standpoints and to examine the concept of free will from the philosophical discipline. Are these concepts compatible in a meaningful context and can a sound argument be constructed to support PAS on the basis of patient free will?
The idea of “Outliving Oneself” depends on the concepts of trauma and most importantly the self, in a situation where said trauma obliterates the self for an indefinite amount of time. Brison presents the self in three interwoven parts: the embodied self, the self as narrative, and the autonomous self. Any of these parts of self depend largely on the individual’s society, culture, and interactions with other people. The embodied self represents the self in conjunction with the physical body, which our society separates from the self, to intimate a soul or personality, and also assigns genders to certain traits. Trauma dissolves this separation of body and mind because violence brings the traumatized to face their own mortality. They have to see their body as an object because their assailant treats it as an object. Trauma is so damaging because the self cannot exert any power whatsoever; the interaction between the assailant and the victim, essentially a social situation, robs the victim of a voice, because the assailant ignores it, a personality, because it is of no consequence to the assailant, and a self, because the assailant uses the body as an object, and the body plays a more central role in the interaction than the self does. Brison quotes Cathy Winkler in saying a rape is a “social murder,” because the rapist’s part in the interaction defines the victim through their actions that take away the victim’s sense of self. Any control that the victim felt over their body gets taken from them by the rapist. The consequences of this trauma include a loss of control over physiological functions, such as emotion and incapacitation from anxiety; the body and mind are out of balance, which leads the victim to be stigmatized by societ...
Today there are five to ten thousand comatose patients in long term care facilities (Wheeler A1). There are countless elderly people in care facilities that have repeatedly expressed a desire to die. There are countless terminally ill patients that have also begged for death. Should these people be allowed to die, or should they be forced to keep on living? This question has plagued ethicists and physicians throughout the years.
Life in the middle school and high school was not easy for me. I had become an introvert, I still didn’t know how to be social, and I had very few friends. I was teased for being very quiet, and some people insinuated that I’m scared of fellow people. On the other hand life at home was difficult. My mother had become so bitter and pleased her was next to impossible. She became very harsh with my brother and me, and we were always scolded for even the smallest mistakes. Once in a while, my father would come for us and take us to the city he lived. I would look out of the windows as we drove out of town and would imagine how life in another city would feel like. I looked at the skies, and all I saw were promises of a better future. All my life I had lived in San
It was a hot summer morning. Sophie and I hopped into the van as Kevin drove us to go hiking with Arnold, Justin, and Jen. My ears were pleased as Jen started singing with her mellifluous voice even though there were a lot of mondegreen. Her ethereal, angelic appearance never ceases to amaze me. Arnold started singing along, but his voice was so horrible that the car immediately filled with cachinnation. I fell asleep during the long ride and had a dream that I was watching anime when a dove landed on my shoulder. It made me feel at peace, but I woke up from Arnold’s lamprophony. After we arrived to Castle Rock State Park, we read a map since it was our first time there. We started the hike in the hot, blazing sun. I was already sweating even
This amazing day started in a cold fall day. It was like any other boring day with my parents. They made me go to the mall, and I was in an antsy mood. Until, I saw this guy’s tall slim figure. Just by seeing the back of him and his majestic curls; he had my heart skipping beats, he was my Achilles ankle. Then I got the courage and went to approach him. He was my prince, and I knew
Then she looked at me. I thought that she was looking at me for the first time. But then, when she turned around behind the lamp and I kept feeling her slippery and oily look in back of me, over my shoulder, I understood that it was I who was looking at her for the first time. I lit a cigarette. I took a drag on the harsh, strong smoke, before spinning in the chair, balancing on one of the rear legs. After that I saw her there, as if she'd been standing beside the lamp looking at me every night. For a few brief minutes that's all we did: look at each other. I looked from the chair, balancing on one of the rear legs. She stood, with a long and quiet hand on the lamp, looking at me. I saw her eyelids lighted up as on every night. It was then that I remembered the usual thing, when I said to her: "Eyes of a blue dog." Without taking her hand off the lamp she said to me: "That. We'll never forget that." She left the orbit, sighing: "Eyes of a blue dog. I've written it everywhere."
The concept of suicide has always been the controversial debate topic among the philosophers. Since the birth of Christianity in Western world, committing a suicide is generally accepted as the act of immorality and the transgression of our duty toward God. By mid-16th century, David Hume, a Scottish philosopher, questions this traditional duty-based ethic of suicide. As he
Humans live in a world in which every day they encounter numerous choices. The way they decide and the outcomes of their decisions define their lives. Their day to day life essentially revolves around the choices they make. As a whole, a community benefits or suffers from the outcomes of its choices. Freedom of choice is the grant to an individual or community to make its own choices out of free will and without restrictions (Pereboom,2003). This is essay will discuss that though freedom choice leads to variety in life, it does not necessarily guarantee satisfaction. It will also argue that although some choice is undoubtedly better than none, more is not always better than less. It will then consider the implications of the paradox of choice for individuals in the market place and education, and for society in politics.
I can still remember that day. All the beauty of nature collected in one moment. I can still feel the sponginess of the winter-aged leaves under my feet. I felt as though I was walking on a cloud, the softness of the leaves cushioning my every step, they were guiding me along the wooded path to a small creek. The humming of the water moving with the crispness of the air, together they were singing a promise of a fresh and clean new season. It was a beautiful spring that year. Every so often a day like that comes back and I am reminded of posing for our picture together.
I stopped walking and looked up at the faint stars. The seagulls were flying overhead. They were screeching and swooping at the water. I started to wish I were one of them, flying free without any restrictions or limits. I listened to their voice, the screech. Deep down in I could understand what they were saying. I can't explain it, but I was so in love with the moment I thought I saw things as they did. I was in company of animals that had no concept of time, and no worries, and I was contempt with that. I closed my eyes and the faint sun warmed my face, as if shining only for me. The warmth made ...
I stood there in amazement. A tingle surged throughout my whole body. It was a rush of excitement I had never felt before in my life. When my eyes hit her angelic little body, they froze and I couldn't think or acknowledge anything else around me. The world seemed to stop, hold its place in time, just for that perfect moment. While she slept I stared at this precious little angel. My hands quivered as I slowly reached down to touch her little fingers and feel the softness of her skin. I ran the tips of my fingers very gently across her smooth face, and right away, I fell in love. Then my brother said, "I can wake her up so you can hold her." I was ecstatic, I was finally going to meet her! As I held her, I stared into her gorgeous blue eyes and knew instantly that I would love and cherish her forever with all my heart.
The grass was soft and green, reserved for those who wanted to lie down or sit. A sweet aroma of flowers overflowed near by like s shinning light, but was hidden by the untrimmed bushes and wildly growing trees. Up above me was the beautiful, high noon blue sky spotted with fluffy, white clouds and airplanes flying by. I emerged into the parking lot and stopped happily as a squirrel under a tree. Hesitating to proceed anywhere further I took a few minutes to treasure the moment of silence and peace. As my girlfriend and I got out of the car to get ready for the picnic, she happened to be distracted by the water; a rhythmic ongoing resemblance of rhythm in her heart. The water was clam and beautiful in every aspect. To me she was like a wave, never stooping to catch attention or go unnoticed. Before doing anything else, we began setting up the picnic. By the time we ware done, her temptation was unbearable and was finally unable to overcome it, consequently she eagerly ran towards the water pulling me right behind her. Each step was like an imprint in my heart, a fossil that would always remain the same and special inside me forever.
There was no lawn, but there were four flower planters. The house was painted all white, with the exception of the front door that was painted light green. My grandfather was still young, strong, and full of life, he always had time to play with his grandchildren. Every Sunday he would take us to the park, would buy us ice cream, and take us to Sunday mass. On the day when this picture was taken, we were celebrating my 10th birthday, and I was dancing with my grandfather. I cannot remember the song, but I do remember what he told me while dancing slowly. He said “My little girl” how he used to call me,” in five years you won’t be a little girl, you will become a young lady.” At that moment I could not understand what he meant, but in my mind I was saying “grandpa I will always be your little girl.” While dancing, he made me a promise, “My little girl on your 15th birthday, I will dance the first song with you.” Who would know that he was going to die on my 15th birthday year, he passed away on June 21th, 1987 on Father’s Day. He left me with so many beautiful memories, but the most important was my first dance on my 10th birthday. On the night before my 15th birthday, I went to bed around 10 p.m. I was feeling depressed, because I was only thinking of the promise that my grandfather had made in the past. A promise that in my mind was not going to
As I reach the seemingly boring age of 19, I am able to look back and reflect on how my choices in the past have gotten me to where I am today. One of the most significant decisions I have made in my life was to minimize my friend group. Now, losing friends is something you hear about before you even hit junior high. The common phrase is repeated over and over again, when referring to high school, “You find out who your real friends are.” As a scrawny little freshman, with no sense of reality, I refused to believe that that phrase would ever apply to my life. The end of my sophomore year is when my then, sixteen-year-old self, realized that that overused phrase was more relevant to my life than I wanted it to be. So I did something about it.