‘I never imagined that it would take so long’ she said, smoothing out an imaginary crease on her pants as she sat hunched in her late husbands arm chair.
‘What do you mean?’ I asked.
‘This! Dying!’ She waved at me, irritated that I could need clarification on such a simple statement. ‘It’s just too annoying. I can’t eat, I can’t sleep, my entire body aches… I fart and burp without being able to control it. The diapers… And still I just won’t die!’
I laughed at that, recognizing the truth in her words and appreciating her candor.
‘You never were one of patient types, were you?’
‘But I won’t ask for euthanasia!’ She bristled. ‘Not for any moral or religious reasons mind you, simply because I don’t like the thought of what it does to the person injecting the needle, of how it must affect them.’
‘But this’ she gestured at at her frail little body with bony hands. A body that only a year or so ago seemed strong as iron. ‘this is already gone. I have maybe a week left at the most and I won’t let them drag me off to a hospital before this’ she gestured at her forehead ‘is gone too.’ She raised a threatening finger; ‘Or else!’
She settled in agin, a quirky little smile on her face. ‘Besides, they can always give me some more of those pain killers – that morfin. Stuff’s just the same as what they kill you with, only in smaller doses…”