Aging, and the Right to Die with Dignity

My mother is 88. She lives in an assisted living facility about 10 minutes from me. And honestly, every time I walk through the doors, I get overwhelmed by what I see.

It’s actually a very nice facility for what we often think of as an “old folks home.” There are different levels of ability, and there are people who are still social, engaged, and enjoying life. But I would say that more than half of the residents I see are essentially just existing. They are breathing, eating, using the bathroom, sleeping—and repeating it all again the next day. They are alive, but they aren’t really living.

I don't mean that to sound callous. It’s just incredibly difficult to watch.

My mother no longer enjoys her life. She doesn’t have a terminal disease that is going to take her life anytime soon. She had a stroke, is diabetic and has the beginning stages of dementia, but her biggest problem is that her body has essentially stopped working.

She can barely stand. She is constantly incontinent and often doesn't even realize when she has urinated or had a bowel movement. The staff helps her change, but they are caring for many other residents too. Sometimes my mother has to sit in her own waste for hours before someone is available to help her. Sometimes I stop by - the smell is so bad and she doesn't even notice it. I ask her if I can change her and she responds by saying it's not necessary (because she can not smell her own waste).

She has very little control over her own life. She hates being in assisted living. She hates what has happened to her body. She hates needing help with things she once did without thinking. They do physical therapy with her, but between the damage from her stroke and diabetes, she has very little use of her legs beyond briefly standing to transfer to a toilet or chair.

And the saddest part is that my mother is not an isolated case. There are so many people living this way.

This is really my rant: I hear people all the time say, “I never want to live like that.” And yet, when someone reaches a point where they no longer have any meaningful quality of life, the idea of allowing them to choose when and how they die is considered illegal, immoral, or taboo.

I struggle to understand that.

When one of my dogs was suffering, unable to walk, and losing control of their bladder and bowels, I could make the heartbreaking decision to let them go peacefully. I could prevent them from having to continue living in a body that no longer allowed them to have any quality of life.

Why don't we extend some version of that compassion and autonomy to people?

I'm not talking about giving up on someone because they're old or disabled. I'm talking about respecting the wishes of a mentally competent person who has reached a point where they no longer want to continue living in a body that has become a prison.

Why can't we decide for ourselves what living means to us—and, when the time comes, have the right to die with dignity rather than being forced to simply keep existing?

Watching my mother live this way has made me question something I never really questioned before: Is keeping someone alive always the same thing as giving them a life worth living?