Sad parable time!
Imagine your loved one bedridden for the last four months with terminal [something]. They call you and all their loved ones bedside for a last goodbye. They know it's their time. They can feel it. Somehow the body knows it's going to give out soon. Everyone's hearts tighten, tears and sobs envelope the room. But it's good. It's all good. It was a wonderful life and they're glad to have seen everyone one last time. Their hug weakens and their chest relaxes. A single tear rolls down their face life leaves the eyes. The room turns to each other and embraces for memory of a most beloved leaving their lives forever.
SUDDENLY THE GROUP IS FORCEFULLY PUSHED! A mob of nurses and doctors rush the room driving grieving family apart, violently torn from their mourning.
"SHE'S CODING! CLEAR!"
Your deceased mother's body (ex. in this parable) shrieks to rigidity, twisting into a painful arch. A steady mechanical alarm blips before continuing.
"CLEAR!"
The doctor shouts again. The body relapsing into torsion.
"Stop!" You plead, "What are you doing?! She wanted to go! Not like this! Stop it!"
But you didn't sign a Do Not Resuscitate order. It passed from memory as you comforted her in loving moments earlier. Even then, doctors are allowed to ignore such an order if they feel it immoral or unwise.
Nurses have opened your beautiful mother. Blood sprawls onto the crispt white sheets. THey're harvesting something, you daren't look. You turn your loved ones from the room, stealing glances at the gruseume scene transpiring. A lung, open and exposed, being manually manipulated by a gloved hand. Tubes shoved into various arteries pumping synthetic fluid from nearby machines. Sadness abates. Rage ensues.
Weeks pass and the mechanical beeping pulsates in the background. You visit your mother's body alone. She does not respond. She never will. Her brain is dead but the electricity powering her heart says she is alive. Ridden with bedsores and emitting foul stench from deprivation she is no longer your mother. It may look like her but she died in that last hug. But you can't shake the feeling she might still be in there, trapped, a prison built by lifesaving machines.
"I love you mom," You whisper, leaning in. Did her closed eyelid seem to sparkle? Was it the start of a tear? Was she still in there? It doesn't matter now as your stranglehold upon her trachea tightens.
You'll be free soon
"What are you doing?!" A voice seems to scream
A few more seconds
"DOCTOR! GET IN HERE! SECURITY!!!" The mechanical beeping escalates.
Just a few more...
Hands grab out. So many hands. You lay staring at the ceiling. A bustle of activity above. Ignorance. Passive, blissful ignorance. A single tear is squeezed. You are escorted away.
Family visits you less now. Several years have passed and they've moved on to other things. It's harder to pass the time not knowing when and if anyone will see you again. The state says they gave a light sentence, supposedly sympathizing. It doesn't matter. Noone will answer your letters anymore. And noone comes to talk. Want for freedom begot a cage.
If only someone would free me