Hazel McHaffie

Musselburgh

Assisted dying … again!

In spite of everything that’s happening in Parliament this week – unprecedented machinations relating to Brexit: rebellions … the prime minister publicly losing his slim majority … the house voting not to go along with his plans … grandees being slung out of the political party they’ve survived for decades … breathless historically significant happenings – in spite of all that, assisted dying has hit the headlines once again.

It must be a surreal feeling, mustn’t it, counting down the days till you die? Rather like life on Death Row.

Sixty-five-year-old Richard Selley is doing just that. Born and bred in the Westcountry (my homeland), he taught Economics at Loretto School in Musselburgh (a few miles from where I live), and now lives in Perthshire. Tomorrow he will die far away in Switzerland.

Four years ago he was diagnosed with MND, and since then he’s been campaigning for a change in the law to allow people in the terminal stages of illness to end their lives peacefully and with dignity. In spite of his struggles with movement and speech, he has managed to write a book, Death sits on my Shoulder, and maintain a blog, Moments with MND.

In a letter to MSPs he makes this heartfelt plea:
‘If the choice of an assisted death was available to me here in Scotland so many of my worries would have been eased and my remaining time would have been spent in better ways than burdensome and complex admin. Instead, that precious time would be spent with my wife, my family and my friends. The current laws (and lack of laws) around assisted dying in Scotland are cruel, outdated and discriminatory.’

And indeed, Mr Selley hugely regrets the necessity to go to Switzerland for this service as he explains here.

Most of this effort has been below the radar, but now, at the eleventh hour, his case has been reported on the national news; during that precious time when he is spending his final week quietly at home with his wife and family and friends, doing ordinary things – like watching box sets, sharing memories. All for the last time. Knowing. Knowing, that tomorrow – Friday 6 September 2019 – he will take that lethal dose of medication, say his final goodbyes. Tomorrow.

He is quick to express appreciation for the ‘outstanding care’ he’s received from the NHS, but he now faces the end phase of this cruel illness, and has decided that enough is enough: ‘As I enter the final stages of this journey, and the prospect of total paralysis, I have decided that I would prefer to leave this world before too much longer. To use the terminology of Brexit, I have had my own little referendum, and decided that I wish to leave rather than remain. I don’t wish to crash out in an undignified manner, so I am hoping to negotiate a withdrawal agreement that will not require a long transition period.’

On top of the mental anguish – which he relates on his blog – it will cost him about £10,000, and he’s very aware that not everyone could afford such a step. He also has to be fit enough to fly, which means taking action earlier than he might if he were able to stay in this country. He can no longer swallow, so he’s practising the movements required to administer the poison via his feeding tube. And on top of all that he’s adamant he must make all the arrangements himself to protect his wife Elaine from prosecution. A tough call indeed.

As he says himself, ‘I think if those who oppose assisted dying could spend just one day in my shoes they would change their view.’ In reality, opponents of legalising assisted dying express enormous sympathy for Richard Selley and others in similar situations, but they say they have to consider wider societal harms, and the potential for abuse and exploitation. Elderly and dependent people could so easily feel under pressure to end their lives rather than being a burden on their families or society. The right to die could soon segue into a duty to die.

In spite of huge advances in palliative care, it’s estimated that eleven terminally ill people die a painful death every week in Scotland. It’s a significant problem. Of course, proposals for a change in the law have already come before Holyrood twice; on both occasions failing to get parliamentary backing, in spite of the powerful voice and image of Margo MacDonald MSP who had Parkinson’s Disease herself and died in 2014. To be fair, public as well as professional opinion has changed following a series of campaigns and high profile cases, but are we ready for the law to catch up? Can such a delicately nuanced matter even be captured in legal terms?

We should all be indebted to people like Richard Selley who use precious resources – energy and time – to bring these ethical dilemmas so vividly and urgently to our attention. I do hope he has the peaceful death he has worked so tirelessly for.

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