A Decision

Dry days- 81
Days of rain- 77

For the last 12 years I've made decisions affecting peoples' lives, and their deaths. Today I made a decision.

A 74 year old, terminally ill. No quality of life. Lying in bed, aware, but tired of it all and unwilling to engage. The eyes still see. But a shadow, a shell of the former formidable, strong self. Where has all the power, the strength, the humour, gone?

A phone call from the consultant in ENT. A professional conversation. What do I want to do from here? Carry on with drip feeding of fluids, PEG nutrition- keeping the shell alive?

"No. Put him on the end of life pathway". The voice is clear. Calm. The sentiment truly meant.

But this isn't just some patient. The link goes beyond this. This is a father. My father. The one that raised me. The one that made me, well, me.

I know I am right, the decision is sound. He would hate to be sustained as a shell. He deserves more, I know this and I know my words ring true. But in the same breath death is condemned. I have decided for him- to die, not to live.

That feels odd. Unsettling. I am confident, but nausea is there. Power over life. Death. What is my right in all this? The correct decision, surely? But it means death. A quandary.

I write this knowing that in a few days a busy, and emotional, period of my life will begin. Is this cathartic? Therapeutic? No, not really. It just feels hollow.

I made a decision today.