To: Editorial Board - Press & Sun Bulletin
Re: letter I sent to the New England Journal Of Medicine
I promise that this is the last letter I will send you. I thought it
might help you to understand my passion. I don't know if the Journal will
publish this letter … but I needed to send it. For me, it's pay back time
for all that I am thankful for.
Brian McMahon
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Physician Assisted Suicide - A Layman's View
I read, with great interest, the editorials by Dr. Marcia Angell and
Dr. Kathleen Foley regarding their opposing views on physician assisted
suicide. They made their arguments with a delicate compassion for the great
pain and problems of the terminally ill. I, too, am compassionate and torn.
But I think that the doctors were addressing symptoms and missing the illness
inherent in physician assisted suicide.
An individual's dying and death is not at the heart of this issue, rather,
this issue is about living in a society and supporting each other in that
society. I cannot pretend to know the pain any person is going through.
I can try to help them cope with their pain but I cannot feel that pain
no matter how much I ache with compassion. Pain is very personal. And in
this pain, we can find a purpose … a cause … a dignity. I will tell you
a story.
I was 19, in my first year of college, when disaster struck. No one
could see my disaster; it was a disaster in my mind. I knew something was
wrong. There was a veil over my once bright world. This veil descended
overnight. Depressed? Yes. Anxious? Yes. I could not sleep. I could not
eat. I was in hell and no one could see.
I went to the doctor hoping to find a name for my pain; hoping that
he might tell me I was dying of cancer or some disease with fingers so
that I could smile and say 'I'm dying of this', or, 'I'm dying of that',
or, just "Thank God I'm dying". The doctor could not tell me
of this pleasure. I was in perfect physical shape.
I went to the counseling center at the college and tried to tell them
of my hell. "Have you ever considered committing suicide?" they
asked. I nodded in shame but with the hope that they knew the name of my
tormentor. "Any great leader throughout history has, at one time or
another, considered suicide." Thus, were my hopes dashed.
That night, I stood at the railing, on the 3rd floor of my
dorm, and stared at the marble floor 30 feet below. It did not look hard,
but inviting. I leaned. I thought. I thought of my mother and father. I
thought of my heroes. I thought of everything I had been taught to believe
about how sacred life was. I thought of honor and dignity. I pulled back.
I could not shame myself. I could not shame those who believed in me.
That was 25 years ago. I swore that night that no matter how tormented
I was that my life would not be ended at my own hand. I would die with
an honor and dignity worthy of those who believed in me. I struggled with
my pain for 6 years. Alone. But this story is not of my heroics … it is
of yours.
I have had a wonderful life. I have a wife, 3 kids, a grandson. I own
a nice little business. If I were to die today, I would die a happy man.
And I owe that all to you. Your medicine could not save me 25 years ago,
but your belief system could. Your hand was on my shoulder that night.
You pulled me back. My mother, my father, my friends and teachers were
all there that night. I owe you my life.
And just as I owe it to you, I owe it to that child out there somewhere,
alone, in pain, and leaning. I would not want to enter my hell again, but
if I had to, I would try to stay true to the beliefs you taught me. Perhaps
the hand that reaches out to save that child is not as strong as it once
was. But there is a dignity in that hand; there is an honor; there is a
healing.
We owe it to each other to believe. As a society we must believe. The
sanctity of life is not a religious concept; it is a social concept that
transcends theologies.
I have heard that the medical community has recently discovered evidence
of the benefits of faith in the healing sciences. I have known and tasted
this benefit for 25 years. Faith is not something you can go out and purchase
at a pharmacy. To have faith you must believe in something. To give faith
to others you must demonstrate a consistency in your beliefs. Sometimes,
our belief system is tested in trials by fire. And not everyone passes
that test. But to say that the belief system is wrong, or to say that it
is okay to fail is to diminish the entire system.
I wonder, if I were at that railing now, would the hand that held me
back be strong enough? Or would I hear the angry voice of debate shouting
"Don't shove your religious beliefs down my throat. Go ahead and jump."
You are the friends who saved me. I believe in us and it is good that I
do. I only wish that I could convey my thoughts more clearly so that you
could see the wisdom in what you taught me to believe.
Brian J. McMahon
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