Someone recently asked, "How would you want to die if you were in my position?". [They have a debilitating illness.]
I am in your position.
I am going to die. We are all going to die.
We have two choices: 1) face up to it 2) ignore it.
Native Americans say, "Today is a good day to die." Good philosophy. Been mine for decades. If you value your physical life too much, you could be forced to abandon your integrity, morals, the like. Not worth it.
I have some preview of how I'll die, from those bio-related to me who've gone before, looks like cancer.
The mind shredding before I'm gone? Depends, forecast cloudy.
Dad died clear of mind, mother lost hers years before she left. I've always had an eccentric mind, would leave head behind if not attached. I'm either a) getting worse b) bio-changes have stolen some functioning c) PTSD from some hard experiences mid-life have stolen functioning (EMDR might fix) d) the prions from eating beef are making wider holes (mostly a joke). Thus... forecast unknown.
I have no idea how you should want to die. None whatsoever. That's your call.
Have some ideas how I'd like to die. I think the Eskimo elders had it right. If the tribe didn't have enough food for everyone, the elder got up in the middle of the night and walked out onto the ice to freeze. Think other folks in the igloo didn't hear? Of course some did, and honored their choice. Consider -- "elder" may've been age 38. That's what parents do: sacrifice for their children, their grandchildren. That's love, love with honor. That's what the river of life is about.
I do NOT want to be alive like my mother was, being diapered, don't-know-what-day-it-is, confused, scared, crabby, combative, costing $5-6,000 minimum per month to maintain my husk. NO. Don't hook me up to feeding tubes. No IV drips to sugar-feed me to squeak 3 more days of "life" out of me. No breathing machines. Don't resusitate me with your paddles by shocking and burning the crisp out of my chest. No stuffing medicine in my bod if I can't swallow.
Don't tie me into a chair and shellac me to it so you can push it around and avoid mourning for me, either. If I'm dying, fine! Let me go! It's normal, it's natural, we're all going to do it.
You'd be doing all those "prolong the body's life" medical interventions to avoid grieving. So turn around, face it, walk into the fire of it, you'll come out the other side.
Do something nice for a stranger in memory of me, make the world a better place, help a kid. If I meant anything to you, if there was anything you admired about me, BE it, DO it, pass it on. Don't waste time on a worn-out shell. Celebrate who I was, my character, the hard work I put into improving myself and those around me.
If I need an operation (and I have) then thank you, AMA, I'll take a few procedures like IV's till I'm on my own again. That's different, entirely different.
If I need a wheelchair to keep up with the grandkids, AND I'm still with-it mentally -- fine, go snag one and push with vigor and style! I did that for my elders in my time. That's part of the natural cycle of life.
I stood vigil two weeks at the hospital to protect my dad from having some idiot hook him up to treatment he didn't want. (He had a written DNR/ Living Will.) When a nurse tried to force him to eat after he'd quit, I told her politely three times to leave him alone. She couldn't hear me, so I finally said, "He's done eating! You may take that tray away now!" (As she disappeared I realized I was starving, but hey.)
Was that EASY for me to do? No. Was it what he wanted me to do? Yes. Did I owe it to him? Yes. Sometimes life demands courage.
I did the same for my mother, to the best of my ability, in a very complicated situation. That is, I stood up for her ability to pass on, when her body was worn out and it was her time. I told her she was safe, it was OK to go, I loved her, we loved her, we'd be OK if she was tired and needed to take a journey.
Am I afraid to die? (Oh, guess, after the above....) No. No I'm not. Why should I be? What help would that be? But I have a good reason to be unafraid, I almost died repeatedly as a child, and since have never (never) been afraid to die. I am convinced in my core that I will continue in some fashion after I die. That's what other people who've nearly died and come back say -- in person, books and lectures. Coincidence? Maybe not.
I don't really know what's going to happen when I die. When you talk with people about dying, most, of various and no religions, say they don't really know what'll happen. Even those with the strongest belief. I'm just darned if I'll live my life worrying and cowering about it. I "pre-accept" that I will die. Frankly, I'm a little curious to find out if I'm right or not. If I'm wrong and I don't continue - well then, it won't matter will it?
Instructions if no ice floe is handy, if I can no longer function coherently and I can't walk out on my own power:
If I get to the place that I no longer know who I am, who my friends and family are, what day of the week it is? If I can't walk, can't communicate my thoughts or wishes, can't move from chair to bed, if I'm peeing on myself, if I can't cook or feed or bathe myself? If it takes "trained staff" to care for me, to turn me? If I can't be a gracious hostess, can't have a good argument, can no longer program my cell phone (heh), can't communicate over the Internet, put me back into that wheelchair.
Make sure it's a cold winter night. Push me out into the night, and talk about the beauty of the world and the stars. Especially the stars. Then let me go. Take my blankets. Go back in the house. Tell the stories of who I was when I was. Cry if you must, but have some courage for me. I did it when it was my turn, it's part of the cycle of life.
Especially tell stories of the stars, because that's where I'll be heading. Today is a good day to die. Once I ditch the damaged mind and bod, I'll be running proudly for the other side with all the strength and courage I've got.