Documentary watching Part I - How to Die

I have decided that since I enjoy depressing subjects, that I would share my views, opinions of the depressing documentaries I continually watch, with you, my gentle and loyal readers. For as much I enjoy a fictional film, there is something left imprinted in me as a person, as a writer, something that ignites an inspiration, a fire of sorts.

I had viewed the documentary before. And it mad me cry then, and yet this time when I watched, it was much different.
"How to Die in Oregon". How to die. To Die. That is exactly what was explored in this film. The documentary explains the Death With Dignity Act currently in place in Oregon. To some it is barbaric, something inhumane to have such a law in place. A law that allows a doctor to prescribe a lethal medication to a patient that is terminally ill. But to those that are in pain, to those that suffer, it is a haven, a last attempt to control the uncontrollable.

What makes it so much more heart wrenching is the introduction of humanity, the people, with their smiles and their jokes, that are painfully dying, seeking a respite in this legislation.

I was raised a Catholic, I was raised that taking your own life is a sin. There is a special place in purgatory for the ones that take their own life. But I have never truly believed that. I have been in immense pain, wondering when and how it was ever going to relieve. I can not imagine living a life in constant pain. My chronic back pain now suffices to prompt a moodiness to which the day's tone is set.

But the film and its participants joyfully created this reason, a context for which an early exit of life was necessary and completely reasonable. For one woman, the enormous collection of bodily fluid, the pain of her organs being crushed under the obtrusive tumor was more than she could bear. She didn't want to die crying in pain, she wanted to kiss her children good night, thank her husband for the wonderful life, and drift into a sleep. In the end, in the last breath after she had taken the very last and lethal dose of medication she would ever take, she said, "oh this is good, this is easy. Thank you."

The babe and I huddled together on our couch as we watched this documentary. For me it was more of a morbid curiosity that led me to the viewing, for my poor unsuspecting love, it was sprung on him by force. But as always, being the good sport that he consistently is, he sat there and watched, quite possibly got kicked in the face, which could be the only explanation for the tear that appeared in the corner of his eye. I had often joked that I would have to be the one that died first, that I could not possibly live a life without him. After watching the descent of these peoples whose lives we had just emotionally bank rolled, he stated, "you can't die first". I sympathize with this request.
I just might acquiesce.