My sister was my best friend, and growing up by her side I witnessed all the happiness, pain, and suffering she endured. Being a part of her journey allowed me to create sister autonomy, where I can now tell a part of her story.
Dear Mom and Dad,
I guess if you're reading this, I'm already gone. My days have come to an end and my heart has finally stopped beating. This was a really long haul, and I'm sorry to have put you through all of this. I know when you first pictured a child, you never envisioned one like me. You imagined a child growing, graduating, getting married, and maybe even having kids one day; but I could not do any of those things.
I tried to be my own person, I really did, but it was getting too hard.
First, the little things became difficult, like brushing my teeth and combing my hair. I remember the first day you picked up the brush to help me comb my hair, that was also the last day I touched a brush. It was the last time I ever did my hair on my own, but you wanted me to look beautiful. Every day when you weren't there, I tried to do it, I tried to brush my hair. I tried to make it look pretty and put together, but it never did. I couldn't do it how I used to, now I just had mangled up hair in knots.
We thought the disease would take my body slower, but it didn't. It came in like a hurricane and took everything with it, even me. Thank you for trying so hard to keep me happy, but towards the end, there was nothing left that you or anybody could do. The doctors tried to make me comfortable, but I was no longer living my life. Instead of making memories, I was living through old ones.
I guess this letter is more of a death wish than an epitaph of my life. Please don't let any child or person go through the pain I did. I know you explored all angles of my disease and I thank you for that, but there was one that you missed. As I spent my days in the hospital room, going in and out of lucidness, I heard something the doctor suggested: putting me to eternal rest.
Euthanasia was something my young self did not know about, but something I explored after I heard what the doctor had said. I wanted to know how I could have achieved this eternal rest. Who would've known just typing "euthanasia" into the search engine would bring up so many things. Obviously, what first caught my eye was the idea that "euthanasia is assisted suicide and murder," but after research, I realized euthanasia could have been my saving grace.
Euthanasia could have saved me from all the pain and suffering.
I would not have had to sit in a grey hospital room alone for so long. I would not have had to watch as my friends grew and made memories while I sat on the side. No one would have ever looked at me as a hindrance to their life, but rather an asset.
So, how is it that a person can choose to withhold treatment, but I could not? How is it that someone can take another person off life support, but I could not ask to be put to rest? I have been on palliative care and hospice for the last couple of years of my life. I have been given morphine and other medications to take the pain away, but what they don't tell you is that morphine only takes away the physical pain. Morphine did not make my heart grow or make me happy. It didn't give me the chance to graduate or the chance to see the world. It didn't allow me to make friends or memories.
Morphine gave me nothing.
Mom and Dad, I'm sorry you had to sit and watch your child in pain. You watched me struggle to take every last breath; not many people can say they saw their child's first and last breaths. I wish that I could have given you the world, but instead, I left you with nothing. I am forever sorry you had to bury your child, but please know that I love you.
So, all I am asking is that no other child has to endure the pain I did. Please help bring awareness to the greatness euthanasia can do. Allow the world to see my letter and see the pain I endured. Tell them how you watched me deteriorate every single day. Show them that the last couple of years of my life were not spent living. Tell them I lived physically, with a beating heart, but died years ago when I lost myself.
I love you.