Keeper of the Superfluous Es!

Bleh. I watched my mother suffer. I watched her rot in front of me. I watched her decay from a beautiful, stunning woman to a vegetable over four years. I watched her go from an intelligent, clever, vibrant person to a disease-riddled, bedbound invalid. I watched as she collapsed constantly into violent epileptic fits, vomited blood constantly, lost complete and utter use of her bowels, her mind and her life. I had to go to school during the day and then come home and nurse her while trying to do homework and assignments at the same time. I had to dress her wounds, bathe her, feed her. I watched her struggle to breathe with oxygen 24 hours a day. I watched her medication doses increase to astronomical heights, to the point where she was swallowing so many pills, the lining of her throat was peeling away. She was on morphine, Breathrough morphine, amatriptyline, MS Contin, a wide range of steroids, duphilax, enema cocktails because the morphine blocked her bowels and eventually was hooked up to an IV of morphine. But by that point, her body was so weak, her skin couldn't take to having the needle under it for longer than twelve hours and, very soon, her veins collapsed and...blah blah blah. I was thirteen when it all started. I was almost eighteen when it ended. It was the most horrendous four or so years of my life. Seven years has passed since she died and I still have nightmares about it.

I wanted her to die peacefully. She was suffering. I was suffering. But do you think they, the doctors, would offer her mercy? No. So I watched my mother disintegrate before my eyes like a rotting carcass.

Bleh. Can you tell I am pro-euthanasia? Stuff like what you've just mentionsed shits me to the high heavens. Christ on a motherfucking cracker.

*twitches violently*