It's hard to believe it's been about a month since I've written here. Various health issues have kept me away from the keyboard, although I've been monitoring news and other information sources. I just haven't had the energy to write. I'll be doing my best to catch up over the next few weeks - there will probably be days when I publish two posts or more.
This op-ed from the Irish Times is especially appropriate. As you'll read, it has a lot to do with breathing - and the not-so-shocking feeling that the writer feels it's better to breathe than not breathe - better to be alive than be dead. We've been appreciating those simple (to us, anyway) truths in our own household. The author of the piece highlighted below found that his desire to go on breathing met with considerable resistance from the medical team treating him.
From: They asked me why would I want to live
YOU’RE IN A room in Dublin. A man walks in whom you’ve never met. He starts to talk to you. He asks you if you have any children. You say you do. He tells you not to go home tonight. That when you leave the building you must turn right instead of left, head north instead of south. That you must keep going in an unknown direction, knowing only that you will never see anyone from your life again. The journey he is asking you to take is death.
Fitzmaurice describes the "talk" in detail:
I am in a bed in the Beacon Hospital. I came in with pneumonia and three days of no sleep and continuous coughing left me exhausted and unable to breathe. Moved into intensive care, I went into respiratory failure, collapsed unconscious and was put on a ventilator.
I now have a tube up my nose and a tube down my throat. One for feeding, one for breathing. Both of which prevent me from speaking. Motor neurone disease prevents me from moving my arms and legs. I communicate with my family through text messages on my phone.
A man has just walked in the door. I have never met him before and he starts to speak to me. He says his name is John Magner, consultant anaesthetist for the ICU. He tells me he has just got off the phone from Prof Orla Hardiman in Beaumont Hospital, after I requested that he ring them to ensure that I was getting the best care for MND in the Beacon.
He tells me that Prof Hardiman has said that they do not advocate ventilation (see panel) in this country for MND patients. That it is time for me to make the hard choice. He tells me that there have only been two cases of invasive home ventilation, but in both cases the people were extremely wealthy.
My mother and my wife start crying in the corner of the room. I look at him but I cannot reply. He looks at me. “This is it now for you. It is time for you to make the hard choice, Simon.” My mother and my wife are now holding each other, sobbing.
Before I continue with excerpts from Fitzmaurice's essay, people unfamiliar with the Irish health care system might want to know that it's a single-payer system - overseen by the
HSE - Health Service Executive. I haven't checked around yet, but I am pretty sure that some conservative bloggers will pick this story up and hold it up as an example of "rationing" imposed by a centralized, single-payer system run by the government.
As you'll see, this is
not one of those stories. The barriers faced by Fitzmaurice had nothing to do with policies of the HSE - but had everything to do with the attitudes of medical professionals regarding "quality of life." More here:
While he is looking at me, my life force, my soul, the part of me that feels like every part, is unequivocal. I want to live. It infuses my whole body to such an extent that I feel no fear in the face of this man. We find out two days later that the home ventilator is covered by the HSE, while the home care package needed to run it can be funded between my family and the HSE. (Emphasis added.)
As he makes clear later, Fitzmaurice and his family feel they've gotten terrific support from the HSE - it was the
doctors who - to put it mildly - discouraged his choice to live with invasive ventilation. I guess bioethicists would call that encouraging him to make an "end of life" decision - it's anybody's guess what they call the decision they didn't want him to make.
Long story short - Mr. Fitzmaurice is at home, happily enjoying his life with his wife, children and the rest of his family, as this wonderful picture shows:
(The picture above shows Simon Fitzmaurice in bed, attached to his ventilator, with three sons lying beside him)
Read the rest of the article, along with additional material from sources like the Irish Motor Neurone Disease Association, whose spokesperson makes it clear the association doesn't advocate use of trach ventilation.
I'll also add that Mr. Fitzmaurice believes that medical professionals in other countries are more supportive of the choice to use invasive ventilation. Maybe, but it seems that many of the people I know who use any kind of breathing assistance up had to bring the issue up themselves - mostly, the options weren't offered by their physicians.
And, please, please
read the rest of the article here. --Stephen Drake