Dying with dignity on your own terms has historically usually meant a trip to Switzerland. But there is an alternative for those who want some control over their ending. Meet the ‘Living Will’.

To some, death can be a scary concept. However, for many people, the thought of being kept alive in a state where you are unable to move, communicate, and/or recognise yourself and loved ones can be equally or even more terrifying.

…if ending your days on this planet hooked up to a ventilator, feeding tube, or oxygen mask isn’t something you’d choose, there is something you can do about it

There are a number of conditions that can affect your brain and body, including dementia, degenerative diseases, or those that affect the central nervous system, such as motor neurone disease. People with terminal illnesses like cancer can also end up having their lives prolonged way past the point anybody would wish.

There are also traumas, such as a catastrophic brain injury, car accident and so on. You get the picture. Any or all of these could leave you in a state where life is never going to improve, but you’re kept alive because that’s the law.

But if ending your days on this planet hooked up to a ventilator, feeding tube, or oxygen mask isn’t something you’d choose, there is something you can do about it.

Read more: Swedish death cleaning – get your affairs in order before you die

Have you heard of a Living Will?

Many people are unaware of Living Wills. In fact, according to a  2020 report, only 13% of UK adults have a written Living Will.

It’s also a good idea to discuss your options with healthcare professionals

A Living Will, also known as an ‘advanced decision’, is a form that allows you to refuse medical treatment if you do not wish to have it in the future.

It is legally binding in England, Wales and Northern Ireland, and allows you to outline your treatment choices to your family, carers, and health professionals if you don’t have the mental capacity or are unable to communicate your wishes yourself. You plan this in advance, when you’re still fit and able. And it’s logged, ready to be activated when you can no longer advocate for yourself.

This means today you could protect the future you from having to endure the indignity of being helpless whilst you genuinely just wait to die.

It might sound brutal, but people may opt for a Living Will for many reasons, including:

– Not wanting their life artificially prolonged
– Want to make it easier for their family
– Wanting to be prepared and in control of their own choice
– Been diagnosed with a serious illness

How does this all work?

Whilst there are several ways to set something like this in motion (ask your solicitor), Compassion in Dying is the UK’s most recommended and trustworthy Living Will service provider.

Their main goal is to improve the dying experience in the UK by allowing people to take charge of how they want to end their lives.

To be clear; this is NOT the same as euthanasia. The refusal of treatment is not the same as asking someone to help you end your life.

Euthanasia and assisted suicide are the acts of deliberately ending a person’s life to relieve their suffering. They are illegal under British law. However, creating a Living Will allows you to make your own choices ahead of time, and is perfectly legal.

How to set it up

With a step-by-step guide, Compassion in Dying has helpfully made it easy. You must be over the age of eighteen and have the mental capacity to make a Living Will.

Their service includes a card, which you carry with you, a bit like the old organ donor cards

What should I think about?

Consider the circumstances where you’d want to be able to opt out of living if you could. Getting diagnosed with a terminal illness, for example, being catastrophically injured and left helpless or catatonic. But think also about the lives of those who care about you. It’s a journey that you and the loved ones surrounding you will face together, so it’s important to discuss this with them too.

It’s also a good idea to discuss your options with healthcare professionals. Explore the risks and benefits of different treatments that are available in the future, and consider what refusing treatments can mean.

In the end, your decision is yours and should be respected. If you have the mental capacity to think about how you want to be treated or not, then you should have the right to do so.

“What matters most is ensuring my family don’t have to make hard decisions about me and my health.”
Compassion in Dying

Elena Harris

Elena is one of Silver’s interns. She has a love for illustrating, reading, and all things media-related. She is a self-proclaimed coffee connoisseur who spends her free time in coffee shops sketching and journalling.

The post Dying with dignity: choosing your own exit strategy appeared first on Silver Magazine.

From one heartache to the next

This time two years ago I ended my marriage of 15 years, a week before my birthday. My husband and I lived in our apartment for another 12 months, finishing the renovations so it could go up for sale. I found a much smaller place in St Leonard’s on Sea, just five miles away, while my ex was planning to move back to his native France.

Meanwhile I was in relationship with a man I was besotted with. A man who would go on to repeatedly ghost me then leave me for another woman.

Fast-forward a year and we were finally due to exchange contracts on our flat. Only for the buyer to pull out at the last moment. I had to pay the fees for the flat I could no longer buy, along with the fees for the one we hadn’t sold. I had no work at the time, so it was a huge blow, both financially and emotionally.

It’s fair to say that life was overwhelming for both of us.

Gautier’s father had died unexpectedly during COVID and his mother had recently been diagnosed with cancer, and was undergoing brutal treatment with a bleak prognosis. We were both devastated, obviously him more than me. But I too was so stressed I was worried that I’d end up with cancer.

Guess what?

The unthinkable

Gautier had just left for France when I found a weird cocktail sausage-shaped swelling in my left breast whilst maneuvering myself into a new bikini. I was sent for a mammogram, scan and biopsies immediately after the consultant had examined me, and had a lumpectomy six weeks later.

Friends helped out post-surgery, but there was nobody to make me a cup of tea, give me a hug, do housework and make dinner. Each night I went to bed exhausted, scared and alone. I struggled physically and mentally for months, especially after radiotherapy. I was stuck in a flat I couldn’t sell, so I literally couldn’t move on with my life. And I found it hard to ask for help, so I didn’t.

I desperately needed a break before I broke.

Another article you may like: 10 things I wish I’d known about breast cancer – before I had it 

A change of scenery – the road to recovery

An all-inclusive hotel in Egypt’s Sharm-el-Sheik wouldn’t have been my first choice of destination. I was thinking more of Madeira or Menorca. However, a deal popped up for the Iberotel Redsina and the word ‘snorkeling’ jumped out at me.

I went bananas and booked a ‘swim-up’ room instead of the cheapest room, which is what the old me had always done. The sea appeared to be the same shade of blue as Paul Newman’s eyes. My body needed this like it needed oxygen.

Because it was summer and off-season – high season being spring or late autumn/winter – the resort was almost empty. I arrived at night, ordered room service and jumped straight in the pool outside my room. I swam under the soft white lights with no interruptions except the faint rustling of palm tree leaves as they swayed in the breeze.

The grounds are beautiful

There’s nothing but polite staff, beautiful flowers and palm trees everywhere you go. I felt very relaxed despite the 45-degree heat doing its best to floor me.

I’d sit cross-legged in the clear shallows playing with passing fish and little things that were like a cross between starfish and tarantulas (we held hands/tentacles)

The 60-minute deep tissue massage I treated myself to was the best I’d ever had, and I left the spa with some gorgeous Egyptian skincare products. The beach was two minutes’ walk from my room; the deep water accessed by a long jetty. I was in heaven the moment I jumped into the water.

In the main restaurant, giddy from such a vast choice of food from so many different cultures, I chose Egyptian (obvs). Dishes were beautifully cooked and bursting with flavour. I ate grilled red mullet and sardines, zesty tabbouleh, stuffed aubergines, perfectly dainty French-inspired patisserie, and about 87 different breads.

“Hello Miss Juliette, would you like to do yoga and Pilates each morning, outside in the shade?” Er, yes. After that I’d sit cross-legged in the clear shallows playing with passing fish and little things that were like a cross between starfish and tarantulas (we held hands/tentacles).

Facing phobias

I snorkeled for the first time. This was a huge deal since I have three lifelong phobias: anything covering my face, eels and the other things like eels beginning with ‘s’, and deep water. I had two panic attacks then went back in minus the snorkel, waving to beautiful blue and yellow fish as I swam along the coral. Still in panic mode, though, since I was in 40ft deep water and THERE MIGHT BE AN EEL. I don’t do things by halves.

At the zen pool I could sketch or read in peace while sipping ice-cold Sakara (Egyptian beer) with lemon. I dressed up for dinner each night and was happy to eat alone while I mopped my sweaty brow, insisting on eating outside – “I’m on holiday!” – rather than in the air-conditioned interior.

Four days later, despite a horrible flight, I came back a better, calmer version of myself. I’d been looked after, and I’d relished it. I wouldn’t recommend waiting until you get cancer to allow yourself that. But for me, I guess it was better late than never. Do go in October, though, won’t you?

www.jazhotels.com

Juliette Wills

Juliette writes about football, F1, fashion, health and interiors for national magazines and newspapers. She’s also Bexhill’s new Town Crier (true story!), runs a pet sitting sideline and heads up her own creative agency. If she’s not at home she’s in the sea

The post My cancer recovery: the charm of Sharm appeared first on Silver Magazine.