We're in trouble

We're in trouble; our entire culture is in serious trouble.

A story was once relayed to us by staff from an undisclosed school. The divas of junior high lined up their classmates in order according to the acceptability of their clothing. The worst dressed were at one end and the best dressed were at the opposite end. Does that bother you? It should. Every child has infinite worth… well, unless you're disabled.

In all of the intense drive to abolish bullying, we have been "ever so understanding" in our hearty acceptance of cruelty. Are you feeling a bit nervous yet? That's ok. I'll keep going.

A woman recently decided that she could not abide the indignity of the loss of intellect, the drooling, the inability to speak, incontinence and requiring others' assistance for eating. She strongly affirmed that such a state of existence was an indignity. She chose to avoid such an indignity.

Please understand that this is not a discussion on death and whether or not we have the right to choose the time and method of death. This discussion has nothing to do with death. It has everything to do with the definition of "dignity." How do you define it?

The problem I have with anyone, dead or alive, who defines or has defined dignity in terms of what we can or cannot do is that they are denying the inherent worth of every human; there is a grading scale. I understand that there is intense pain involved for those who are facing the prospect of losing everything that has been a point of pride. The grief and pain of loss is beyond overwhelming. I have to wonder, though, how we define ourselves in the first place. Am I worthwhile because I don't need incontinence briefs? Is my value based on the fact that I have a healthy, effective swallow and my chin is dry? If I were more intelligent, would I be more worthy of respect? If I lose that intelligence, does it stand to reason that I am an indignity?

The point is driven home by residents of the Calgary community, Varsity Acres. They are rather vocal in their protest against a new school in the area. The school will diminish their property value. Normally, close proximity to a school increases your property value. They are convinced that their property value will decrease with the lowered level of intellect of the students. The school is specifically equipped to meet the educational needs of special needs children. Of course, the presence of these creatures is an indignity to the superior beings living there. Who would ever want to purchase their house with the likes of these children hanging around?

As a mother of a young man who has lived for twenty-three years with many of these "indignities" on his list of limitations, I am incensed at societies "compassionate response" to those who suffer with such horrible ailments as stupidity, drooling, peeing, and total dependence on others for survival. People feel sorry for him. They feel sorry for me. They loudly proclaim in his presence that they could never deal with what I deal with. Please tell me, who is the ignorant one?

Am I politically incorrect? Yes, I am. It is also politically incorrect to say that those who coin the phrase, "dying with dignity" frequently refer to my son's disabilities as the reason they choose to end their lives. Why? Because, of course, a life like my son's just isn't worth living. Yes, I am grossly blunt. It's time to wake up and realize that our definitions are stuck somewhere in a filthy pit.

Let me define dignity for you. You know that people stare. You're painfully aware of the fact that your wet chin garners gasps and glares. You know what it is to make people jump in fear when you clear your tracheostomy tube so that you can breathe. The wheels underneath you are the first things people see when they look at you. You endure the same questions over and over. "Can he understand me?" "Have you had a break from his care recently?" Still, you look people in the eyes, smile and hold out your hand as well as your contractures will allow. You offer to shake people's hands. You're often denied that privilege because of the assumption that you either can't shake hands or you don't want to. You laugh hysterically. You harass family members and caregivers. You take pride in your hard sought achievements; finding the end of the rope, wheeling five feet with the use of your one good hand, and after months of searching, you find the hidden item in your computer game. You lean your head against a discouraged relative to let her know you care. You take all the time you need to pray for the people you love. You ignore the hideous glares of arrogant shoppers. You respond to that shopper with an exaggerated face, providing comic relief for your angered mother. (High five!!) You patiently assist with every new aide that needs to be trained in your care. You hold your head up high. You are dignified.

How do you define "dignified?" It's time to redefine terms. Lose the lineup. Ditch the paranoia. We're human. We're all valuable. Each one of us is worthy life, love and respect.
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More information is available here. (Edited after the original post.)