Whew! My Dad Is Not a Murderer!
Blog Series #2 Non-Viable Yet Valuable, Part 2
(If you are a new reader, welcome! For an overview and introduction to the conversation, I recommend starting here.)
“Isn’t it murder to terminate a life-support system sustaining . . . umm . . . our own mother?”
I asked Rose, the head nurse on my mother’s stroke recovery ward. I gestured toward my sister, Jen, as I mentioned Mom. Jen had been crying all morning since our meeting with our mother’s medical team; a meeting that sparked some serious ethical questions about our father’s authority as Mom’s Power of Attorney, what is medical life-support, and does termination of that support constitute murder?
With a kindness that accompanies the voice of experience, Rose replied:
“You can not murder someone who is no longer alive.”
I think my mouth fell open. I had never considered this before. I looked at my sister who was equally perplexed. “Our father wants to honor Mom’s wishes in her Living Will by NOT placing her on life-support should she lapse into a coma. We are thinking that might be murder, so we’re not sure we agree with Dad on that one.” Fresh tears rose to the rims of my sister’s eyes. To shove down my own emotions welling up within me, I focused on my cognitive pursuit for the answers to these pressing ethical questions.
Candidly, almost with an air of how-can-you-not-know-this, Rose pointed out, “Something has to be alive first before it can be killed. These poor people are no longer alive, really, after they slip into a coma, especially if they need life-support. They are in this horrible space where they are not alive, but they are not dead yet either. I think your mother is wise not to want her existence prolonged unnaturally after that happens.”
We stood there aghast, unsure what to say next. My sister wiped a tear from her eye. I decided to press the matter further as Rose locked eyes with passing hospital staff, giving them a slight nod to acknowledge the responsibilities she’d put on hold so she could have this conversation with us. “So . . . it is not murder to ‘pull the plug’ on a medical life-support system, or . . . never plug one in to begin with?” I asked.
“No,” Rose replied gently as a smile broke out over her face. “If a person is already dead, err not alive anyway, you cannot kill them. Name one person you know of who has been arrested or put in jail for pulling the plug on a loved-one’s medical life-support!” Her demeanor became jovial as she saw the humor in this mental image. She already liked our dad as much as we do. I could tell. He’s a good guy with a great sense of humor, even through this tragedy with his wife. The idea of our dad being a murderer made her laugh out loud. There was a sparkle in Rose’s eye now as she waited for the weight of this reality to sink in for Jen and me.
It took us a beat. We just stood there. In a busy hospital corridor. Dumbfounded.
I searched my sister’s face as I slowly thought this through. Jen gave a slight shrug. I stumbled with my words, “Uhhhh . . . none.” Those mauve blotches that come with crying cleared away from Jen’s face. Her eyes were the driest they’d been all morning as the clarity of this realization hit home. We looked at each other. Then we looked at Rose, who was now rushing onward to get caught up with the avalanche of duties she’d mightily held back for us – for just a few moments that day so that she could change our world.
Tears welled up into my eyes now as we stood there with weird medical terms, unfamiliar voices, uniforms, and chaos whirling passed us. It finally felt safe for me to show a bit of emotion as we agreed out loud, “Dad’s not a murderer after all!”
We hurried back to Mom’s room to tell Dad what we’d just learned.
