Editor: re: Ed Wingenbach’s letter (the Times, March 30).
Mr. Wingenbach, you and like-minded (people) should have a loved one die by starvation.
Yes, it is available in Canada and in your local hospital.
My dad suffered a stroke 16 days ago. His left side was numb, there was a bit of swelling in the back of his head and his throat was damaged.
He received a feeding tube and IV for water.
His mind was still intact, although his ability to speak was minimal.
His face would turn red and he looked like he wanted to cry.
He mouthed, “Why? I was never sick.”
He knew he’d had a stroke. We were told if there was no improvement in five days there would have to be decisions made.
In those first five days, we hoped he would show signs of getting well.
But the doctor basically said, we cannot fix your father and this is the choice you have to make: You could leave the feeding tube and IV in and he could live the remainder of his life as he is now, or you can remove them and he would die.
It not being my choice, his power of attorney decided he would be better off dead.
Mr. Wingenbach, you stated, “Modern medical science has the ability to prevent and comfort any and all human situations without destroying life.”
You are wrong.
The order was given, nothing by mouth. My dad was going to die and it was going to be a slow, downhill progression.
A horse breaks its leg, you shoot it. A pet is at its life’s end, you end it.
Your dear old dad is broken, and what happens to him is so utterly inhumane, it defies all logic.
My dad’s teeth were removed, making it more difficult to speak. He is given 24/7 hydromorphone and Tylenol.
Because he is breathing through his mouth, it is constantly drying up and a little water is allowed in his mouth.
There is the fear that because his throat is broken, that little bit of water and his own spit would go into his lung.
They put something in his mouth to dry up his spit.
He has a (catheter) to drain fluid out of his body. Yesterday, I saw how much blood was in his urine.
The look of panic in dad’s baby blue eyes was sheer devastation.
Slowly, we’ve watched him shrink. He is now gaunt. His eyes don’t open for long.
He tried to talk to me the other day and I could not make out what he was saying.
With a deep breath, he uttered P..R..I..K. In Dutch, that means shot. Needle. He wanted out of this world.
I wished so desperately for his suffering to be over. His organs are slowly and painfully shutting down.
Yes, Mr. Wingenbach, they gave dad medicine to keep him comfortable, but you are so wrong. They are destroying his life.
I am now on the way to the hospital to see my dad.
Hopefully, his suffering will soon be over and he will go back to his home on the other side.
J. Tabakis,
Aldergrove