I get a little impatient with those who would have us believe the euthanasia debate can be reduced to a slogan on a T-shirt.
Nor do I have sympathy with those who say if we can euthanase a sick dog, why not people?
Why stop there with the animal parallels?
Perhaps we could start cutting off men's testicles without their consent as a contraceptive measure too.
If I were to design a T-shirt to represent the issue it would say "It's not simple, stupid".
And before you rush to dismiss me as some insensitive nutter who knows nothing of the despair of terminal illness, think again.
There is nothing particularly attractive about seeing the love of your life and father of your four beloved sons die from bowel cancer at the age of 48.
Almost 14 years on, even writing those words moves me to tears.
It makes me recall times when I felt helpless and abandoned trying to cope with an emaciated man I could not stop from vomiting; of sitting listening to that brave man grunting in pain at the hospital while a junior doctor seemed oblivious to the extremity of his discomfort, wasting time asking unnecessary questions instead of administering pain relief. I should have interrupted and insisted, instead of snapping at the nurse when the medication eventually turned up.
The memory still makes me feel ashamed.
At the same time I was trying to care for four children ranging from 7 to almost 16. As I have described before, some of my behaviour became a little mad.
But what I learned from that lovely man in his final days was that death, however it comes, is a part of life. It may not be nice, you may not choose it, but you have to deal with it.
Of course it is not easy. But why do we imagine everything must be?
If we could control everything about our lives, would we be richer for it?
It is a pity my husband cannot be here. I am sure he would explain it more eloquently than I. He knew he had no choice about having terminal cancer. But what he did control was how he dealt with it. If he had chosen to end his life early, I am sure he could have.
He didn't, as it turned out. Nor did he ask me to, dying instead in the excellent care of the Otago Community Hospice.
I will never forget the day we arrived there. It was probably hard to tell who was the most exhausted.
Once he was safety ensconced in a bed, I was asked if I would like a cup of tea and a biscuit. That simple question almost made me weep. At first I thought it was a mistake. I wasn't the patient, after all.
Perhaps it is care that the debate should concentrate on. Care for the dying patient and care for the people who are looking after them.
Euthanasia is not just a matter of the dying person wanting to pop their clogs a bit early.
It may appear simpler if the dying person is able to sort out their own death, but is it necessarily?
What about the situation where family members or others might sneakily pressure dying ones into believing they are surplus to requirements and really they should be falling on their swords?
And, in a climate where euthanasia was widely accepted, how would you stop family members from making oldies, people with disabilities, or others think they would be doing everyone a favour if they shuffled off?
Never underestimate the awfulness of people, particularly where there could be personal gain.
And if there are other people involved, how easy is it really to tell if they are doing the dying one's bidding?
We might feel sympathetic to a highly articulate middle-class or upper-class person talking of fulfilling a parent's supposed wishes, but if a gang member was telling essentially the same story, in a more basic way, of slipping some illegal drugs to his old mum to hasten her death, would we feel the same?
And, if we think it's OK to allow others to get involved in hastening the death of people with terminal illness, where do we draw the line?
Should the parent of a child dying of cancer get to speed that up or do we want to give that right to medical professionals?
If you were a health professional, would you want that responsibility Is it fair?
In recent years, we have become more adept at talking about grief . Maybe it is time to start talking seriously about our attitude to death itself.
But let's do it without silly T-shirt slogans and the distraction of high-profile cases. I am not sure they are helpful.
- Elspeth McLean is a Dunedin writer.
