On a brisk day at a restaurant outside Chicago, Deb Robertson sat with her teenage grandson to talk about her death.
She’ll probably miss his high school graduation. She declined the extended warranty on her car. Sometimes she wonders who will be at her funeral.
Those things don’t frighten her much. The 65-year-old didn’t cry when she learned two months ago that the cancerous tumors in her liver were spreading, portending a tormented death.
But later, she received a call. A bill moving through the Illinois Legislature to allow certain terminally ill patients to end their own lives with a doctor’s help had made progress.
Then she cried.
“Medical-aid in dying is not me choosing to die,” she says she told her 17-year-old grandson. “I am going to die. But it is my way of having a little bit more control over what it looks like in the end.”
That same conversation is happening beside hospital beds and around dinner tables across the country, as Americans who are nearing life’s end negotiate the terms with themselves, their families and, now, state lawmakers.
I always said: “just put me out with the trash”.
The cost of anything death related is so immensly high, even the cheap options are too much imo.
Budget Cremation: they toss the body in a dumpster and set it on fire.
My mom said the same thing most of her life. When it came down to it, (bone cancer in her hip) she asked to be cremated, and her ashes scattered somewhere she’d never been. That’s hard to do, she’s been a lot of places.
Personally given how fucked my brain is from mental unwellness, I’d like my remains to be studied for whatever I can provide to the future of modern medicine.