Right To Die - Jeremiah Healy (12 page)

Olivia Jurick came to the high mike. On tiptoe she
said, "And now, ladies and gentlemen, Professor Maisy Andrus."

Andrus stood smoothly, striding to the podium with no
notes. Engaging the audience, she looked from section to section
until there was no noise in the lecture hall, not a cough, not a
rustle. Then, "I stand before you tonight for a very simple
reason: I killed my husband. Under the laws of most countries, I was
guilty of a crime. Under the laws of Spain, where the incident took
place, I was guilty of a worse crime: as a wife, I committed
parricide, the killing of the male head of the family.

"Well, what I did was no crime in my mind or
heart, and I suspect it would be none in yours either. My goal is to
have the feelings in those minds and hearts reflected in rational
laws which permit society to evolve, as it must, if we are to survive
as a species in close contact with each other. Despite Reverend
Givens's impassioned presentation, the law is not some
capital-letter, quasi-religious absolute. Despite Dr. Eisenberg's
dispassionate presentation, the law is not some scientifically
logical formula into which factors need merely be inserted to produce
uniformly correct answers.

"The doctor alluded to suicide. The original
purpose behind the prohibition of suicide was the same as that
against male masturbation: to promote the continuation of our
species. Given the size of the global population and its rate of
reproduction, the rule against suicide is no longer needed to ensure
that survival. Indeed, we are now presented with the converse
problem.

"In 1988, two-thirds of the doctors polled by
the American Medical Association reported being involved in decisions
to withhold or withdraw treatment, and the American Hospital
Association estimates that seventy percent of hospital deaths now
occur because of family and medical termination of treatment. In
response to these statistics, courts in twenty states ruled on the
right to die, the Supreme Court of the United States recently
confirming the constitutional basis of that right.

"The law can, and must, take into account
aspects of our changing society. Religion depends on prayer, medicine
on technology. But when our religious views become so entrenched and
our medicine so sophisticated, we all simply must recognize a basic
truth. Each and every one of us has certain rights of person, certain
rights of spirit, that neither religion nor medicine nor a government
supportive of both should be able to take away. Such is the basis of
the right to abortion — "

Hisses and boos jumped out all over the room, vying
with applause.

"Such is the right to sexual preference — "

More noise.

"And such is the right to die. To determine for
oneself that the time has come when prayer is no longer availing,
when the medicine that can prolong life can no longer improve it. I
believe it barbaric to force our elderly, our infirm, our comatose
and their respective families to continue to suffer when a
veterinarian would be reviled for not bestowing a parallel mercy on a
similarly situated dog or cat.

"I began tonight by saying that I killed my
husband, but there is a difference between cruelly killing someone
with kindness and mercifully killing that person kindly. Let me close
by describing to you what my husband's life would have been like
without my helping him. He was fifty-two years old, he had suffered a
stroke. A doctor himself, he knew that the only possible prognosis
was irreversible deterioration. His condition cost him his native
tongue; cost him the ability to move his limbs, to swallow, to sit
up, even to control his bowels. He was no longer a tenth of the
vital, loving, caring person he'd been all his life. The alternative
to my helping him would have been months of humiliation and pain,
both mental and physical, and toward what end? To set some sort of
unofficial record for suffering in a sport where everyone insists
upon adherence to the rules but no one rewards those who try the
hardest. Please, let us reconsider together, unblinded by religion or
logic, and simply endorse what is right and fair and appropriate: the
ending of life when life has ceased to be what any of us would call
living. Thank you."

Sincere applause, growing as Andrus reached her seat.
She looked down into the sashed area, smiled, and nodded. I could see
Tucker Hebert flash her a thumbs-up.

Olivia Jurick returned to the podium. "Thank
you, Professor Andrus. I'd now like to take questions. If you have
something to ask, please raise your hand. I believe everyone will be
able to hear a bit better if you stand while putting your question.
Uh, yes, ma'am, you, please."

An austere woman with straight hair the color of
chrome rose and began to speak with Locust Valley lockjaw. "I
think it obvious to any rational person that tonight's debate has
demonstrated the absolute bankruptcy of the so-called Dukakis
'Massachusetts Miracle' which was always a function of Reagan
administration deficit spending on the Commonwealth's defense
contractors."

Del Wonsley said, "A wild-card favorite."

As Jurick leaned into the microphone to interrupt,
the austere woman said, "That's all I have to say," and
dropped back into her seat.

Jurick quickly pointed to an older man with short
gray hair. Standing awkwardly and wearing a cardigan sweater, his
voice was raspy.

"Professor Andrus, my daughter was sick and got
ahold of your book." He held up a copy by the binding. "Three
weeks later she went and killed herself. How do you feel about that?"

A number of people in the audience gasped. Alec
Bacall smiled grimly. "Off to the races."

Jurick didn't seem to know what to do as moderator.
Maisy Andrus never left her chair. "Since I don't believe I knew
your daughter, sir, I — "

"Her name was Heidi. Heidi Doleman. Now you
know."

I came forward in my seat. I couldn't see any bulges
over Louis Doleman's hips, but that didn't mean he wasn't carrying up
front for a cross-draw.

"As I was about to say, Mr. Doleman, since I
don't believe I knew your daughter, I don't know what to think of her
death. If she was suffering, I hope that you and any other loved ones
supported her in what she believed to be best."

"Weren't any other loved ones, Professor. Just
Heidi and me. But you've said just about what I thought you would."

As Doleman sat back down, Olivia Jurick nearly sighed
in relief over the mike. She pointed to a teenage girl directly
between us and the stage.

The girl wore a pink beret over sandy hair.
"Professor Andrus, do you think it's right for little babies to
be taken from the womb and killed before they get asked whether or
not they're ready to die?"

Grumbling and shushing in the audience.

Again from her chair, Andrus said, "We're not
here tonight to argue for or against abortion, but yes, I think the
woman carrying the fetus has such a right, though it is
intellectually distinct from the right to die."

The girl raised her voice over more grumbling and
less shushing. "I'm not asking you intellectually, Professor.
I'm asking you morally. Is it right to kill that baby'?"

From the lower left section, a black female voice
said, "Answer the child."

Andrus said, "I've already given you my best
answer on that."

Reverend Givens cut in. "Child, you want my
answer on that?"

Reluctantly, I thought, the pink beret said, "Sure."

"Well, my answer is simple. You kill that baby,
and you'll never forgive yourself. You'll never in your life forget.
You have that baby, and somebody will give it a fine home and a good
upbringing."

Gun yelled out, "What if it comes out half
black?"

Givens shaded her eyes with her hand, and others in
the audience turned to glare at Gun, then turn away as he and his
cohort gave them the finger. The salt-and-pepper police team looked
at each other and started forward.

Givens said, "I can't see you, but I'm guessing
from the tone of your voice you're the type that does better wailing
from the darkness than speaking in the light."

A solid round of applause. The cops hesitated, then
went back to the wall and crossed their arms.

Givens said to the pink beret, "Child, however
that baby comes out, you come see me if you have any troubles about
it."

More applause as Olivia Jurick gratefully pointed to
a well-dressed older black man.

"Dr. Eisenberg. Can you tell me, Doctor, how all
of us are going to be able to afford keeping all these patients alive
while you and your friends at the hospital get upward of five hundred
dollars a day?"

Eisenberg winced. "That's, uh, more a question
for a hospital administrator than a doctor."

"But you're the one's been saying it here."

"Yes, well, you see, it's not really you who
pays for all that. The insurance companies do."

"Out of the goodness of their hearts, huh?"

"Well, no, no, of course not. From premiums they
collect and investments they make. But — "

"And who be paying those premiums, Jack?"

Del Wonsley said, "Right on."

Jurick said, "I wonder if we could have another
question? Yes?"

The black man shook his head in disgust as he sat
back down. Jurick's finger pointed to Walter Strock.

Strock rose, Kimberly watching him as if he were the
Hope diamond. "Two questions, if I may. First, for Professor
Andrus. Professor, earlier you referred to a constitutional 'right to
die'. Now, you'll certainly agree that the Supreme Court of the
United States in the Cruzan case established only that a patient has
the right to decline life-sustaining medical aid. I wonder, where in
the Constitution do you encounter the right to life — terminating
assisted suicide?"

Andrus spoke very evenly. "Our country was
founded on the principles of 'life, liberty, and the pursuit of
happiness? The right to liberty must include a right to die.
Otherwise, 'life' and 'the pursuit of happiness' would become
inconsistent concepts now that medical technology can, as I said
earlier, prolong a painful, hopeless 'life' without any possibility
of 'pursuing happiness'. "

"How imaginative of the Founding Fathers to
include all that."

Over the laughter his sarcasm triggered, Strock said,
"And my second question is for Dr. Eisenberg. In your remarks,
Doctor, you voiced concern over the situation in which you are asked
to terminate a patient who has become a burden on his family?"

"Yes?"

"I wonder, are you more concerned about
terminating a patient whose timely death might benefit his family?"

Alec Bacall said, "The pompous little shit."

Eisenberg sensed something, but I'm not sure he got
Strock's innuendo, because he just said, "Why, yes, of course."

Strock closed with a flourish and a smile. "Thank
you, Doctor. That's all I have."

As Olivia Jurick looked over the crowd, Gun got to
his feet.

"Hey, I got a question."

Jurick said, "If you could wait — "

"My question is how come you don't have somebody
who can talk for real Americans on this panel?"

Jurick said, "Sir, if you — "

The other skinheads prepared for protection as the
cops moved toward them.

Gun cranked it up. "How come we got to listen to
a shine, a kike, and probably a dyke did her own husband? How come
nobody talks about the race criminals in this country trying to
strangle it and strangle the people who built it. huh?"

The cops were trying to get to Gun, the rest of the
audience trying to retreat, but Rick and the other skinheads had
moved toward the aisle to act as a barrier. No weapons I could see.

Jurick said over the microphone, "Officers, if
you would please — "

"Fuck all, bitch, you got your goddamn nigger
cops and your goddamn kike judges, but you can't silence the real
Americans, and we're going to take back what we never should have
lost in the first place."

Two skinheads began scuffling with each cop but not
throwing any punches. The crowd got really nervous now and started
scrambling out of the confining rows and into the surging aisles.

I said to Bacall, "Save my seat, will you?"

Going over the tops of chairs, I grabbed Gun's right
ear, my fingers wrapping around the cartilage like a pistol grip. I
squeezed until he bent forward at the waist and started squeaking.

I yelled, "Enough."

There was a momentary pause in everything, a video
frame of uniforms and skinheads.

"Gun, tell your friends to let go of the cops."

Rick the skinhead said, "Shit, Gun, knock his
hand away."

I said, "He knocks my hand away, his ear comes
with it."

Gun squeaked some more. "Do it, Rick .... Let
them go."

Rick released the white cop and said "Shit"
again just as he got whirled onto the floor.