There is a zombie in my house. She wanders about slack jawed, face pulled long, eyes unfocused and tired. Her thoughts cut short of conclusion again and again, memories hazy and in disarray bouncing around a broken brain looking for space to settle in. She eats with her hands because spoons make no sense, nor do forks, or the clock on the wall counting out her sentence. With what act have you earned such an end? Death is a trickster, he takes his time maybe observing for the sake of entertainment, maybe balancing karma in a hidden act of kindness. A bullet knows more mercy than he, and a bullet shows more mercy than me.
This is a very honest observation of someone in end stage dementia as uncouth as it may appear to be, it is what it is. There is always a moral tug of war in healthcare, what is humane what is not? Its a question that has so many answers depending on the situation. Is it more cruel to help someone suffer through a terminal illness than to help them end it? Are you "helping" either way?