Be your own Nazi

Along with one or two other folk I've been much exercised by the topic of assisted suicide of late. Though not a Catholic (yet?) I've found Catholic voices consistently the sanest ones. This from Dominic Lawson is a cracking piece. This blog post from Gerald Warner comes with a comment from me to which the title of the present post relates.

The case of the 23-year-old left paralyzed by a rugby accident seems to me to pose the issues particularly starkly. If I were in his position I'm sure I would be traumatized and depressed. These are treatable conditions. Quadriplegia is not, but neither does it have to be a bar to a richly meaningful life. That was true even in the absence of all the opportunities opened up by modern technology.

There's not much dignity in needing someone else to wipe your bum for the rest of your life, it's true, but when did the human condition ever come with a guarantee of dignity?

I have no window into the souls of the young man's parents, and accordingly pass no judgements. Nevertheless, this must be said: if, in those circumstances, I decided my life wasn't worth living, I hope I'd discover that at least one person loved me enough to tell me I was wrong. And keep telling me until I took notice.