Prophet of the plague

This morning I was reading about that universal human tendency to blame someone else. It's as old as the story of Adam and Eve. Below is something I wrote exactly a month ago. How fast life has changed since then! But I should make clear that, unlike Donald Trump and his entourage who should be ashamed of themselves, I was in no way blaming China for COVID-19 itself or for its spread. The virus happened, and once it happened it was bound to spread, as the whole world has discovered. Modern life is like that.

"Last month I wrote : 'It’s easy to write people off. God never does. He sees beauty - and hope.' Which, I admit, was easy to say. However then you look around and wonder what’s gone wrong because, yes, there may be glimmers of beauty and sparks of hope. But the world’s hardly full of them, to be honest, is it? Think of how poisonous people can be on-line. Think of how much plastic we’ve dumped in the oceans. Think of the horrible destruction our weapons cause all over the world. Think of how many children go hungry and even starve to death. If he’s there, couldn’t have God done a better job of not writing people off? Well, personally, I think he did all he could. It was a sort of two-pronged plan.

Li Wenliang was an eye doctor working in a hospital in central China, who noticed there was a new type of virus among patients there. At end of last year in an online chat he warned some colleagues to tell their families and friends to take precautions. It wasn’t long before he was told to stop blowing the whistle. He went on working and caught the virus. He died in February aged 33. 

Possibly if his warning had been acted on sooner, the coronavirus COVID-19 might have been contained and not become pandemic. Dr Wenliang was like a prophet, not foretelling the future, but warning about the problem. He’s a bit like David Attenborough - or John the Baptist in the Bible giving the diagnosis of the world’s endemic problem, which you might sum up as selfishness. John didn’t have the cure any more than Dr Wenliang had for COVID-19, except ‘Be kind’. The cure was going to come in a couple of years.  

The second strand of God’s revolutionary strategy came at this time of year. It wasn’t a miraculous vaccine but a series of unbelievable events. First the kindest man who ever lived was executed at the age of 33; then he returned to life after a couple of days; best of all, as he’d promised, his Spirit suddenly filled his followers so that they became a community known for their kindness. 

The selfish virus began to be replaced by an infectious love. Being God, however, he didn’t vaccinate everyone like or not, because love can’t be forced. It has to be chosen - like on “Love Island”. I suppose that’s the weak point of God’s plan. If you’re not willing to give up your own interests and embrace the Spirit of Jesus, who brings love, there’s no way he’s going to force it on you. And it’s hard being kind on your own. Sadly, it wasn’t that long before many of his followers seemed to lose the Spirit and that infectious love faded. But he’s still alive and inviting us to choose his way. Love won at Easter."
(First published in Grove Community News, April 2020) 

[Interestingly in the last month we have seen both the grip of selfishness (only moderated by government dictats and laws), as people strip supermarket shelves and ignore social distancing, and the Spirit of selflessness, which is love, as communities started caring for those in need.] 

Euthanasia - there is a better way

I talked to a professional carer a few weeks ago. She had been caring for someone with terminal cancer to the end. After that she had been on holiday, and had met another carer, a nurse, who'd worked in Switzerland, where assisted suicide is legalised. He too had been caring for a cancer patient. The doctor had prescribed lethal drugs for his patient but would not administer them. (In Switzerland doctors aren't allowed to do the actual deed.) But the nurse was compelled to do it, although it ran counter to his conscience. I presume the patient had requested it.

However the effect on the nurse had been catastrophic. Can you imagine being forced to kill someone when your whole conscience and all your convictions forbade the taking of life? How would you live with yourself? The answer for that nurse was to abandon his vocation and to drown his guilt in a cocktail of drink and drugs. It was taking him a long time to rehabilitate himself, and the scars and nightmares will never leave him, I imagine.

Such is one seldom considered effect of legalising assisted suicide. There are always others involved. There is always some impact on their psyches. It might inure them to the event - which cannot be desirable. Or it might scar them as it did that French nurse.

A Labour MP, Rob Marris, has tabled a private member's bill in the House of Commons for 11th September after MPs return from holiday. It's basically the same old bill that Lord Falconer tried to introduce in the Lords last year, and will be fraught with the same old dangers which have restrained our legislators wisely from going down the same route as Switzerland, Belgium, Holland and a handful of US states. Open the door to "assisting" others to die and you open a Pandora's box of unforeseen consequences. My local MP rightly pointed out that, in Britain, we lead the world in palliative care. Our response to the physical and emotional pain of terminal illness must be to show compassion by extending and developing this further - not by letting people die when they most need encouragement and assistance to live. As evidence from other countries has shown, a right to die would for many be a duty to die. I hope other MPs will also fiercely resist this Bill for that reason.

There is a better way.

Being present at someone's deathbed is always momentous, but usually it is a necessary and healing part of grieving. It can't be that, if one is contributing to the death. But if one is there accompanying the dying person and sharing in their struggle to depart, there is no guilt in the memory, only a sense of a compassionate task well completed.

Two of my great friends have died within the last ten days. They were both men of faith. One died in a hospice and the other died at home. The passing to new life is never easy. It wasn't for them either, but it was peaceful. I suppose the body is very attached to physical life. Matt Redman's song Bless the Lord, O my soul was being sung as one friend died and will be sung at the other friend's funeral:

"Bless the Lord oh my soul
Oh my soul
Worship His Holy name
Sing like never before
Oh my soul
I'll worship Your Holy name.

And on that day
When my strength is failing
The end draws near
And my time has come
Still my soul will
Sing Your praise unending
Ten thousand years
And then forevermore
Forevermore."

Whether you have faith, as my friends had, or not, a "natural death" is better than an unnatural one. Hard, but free of the dangers and peculiar consequences which accompany the intentional shortening of life. 

What's wrong with the Falconer Bill?

On Sunday I was asked for my views on ex-archbishops endangering the lives of disabled and ill people. Well, it was the World Cup and I needed a day off; so I promised something on Monday. (Sorry - missed my deadline!) And this, I hope, will be it. Actually rather than knocking two well-meaning old codgers, I think I’ll write about about Lord Falconer’s deceptively innocuous-sounding bill on “assisted dying” whose second reading takes place in the House of Lords on Friday.

It’s summarised in Parliamentary business papers as “A Bill To enable competent adults who are terminally ill to be provided at their request with specified assistance to end their own life; and for connected purposes.” 

A commentator summarised its contents like this: “His bill would make it legal for doctors to help mentally competent adults with less than six months to live to kill themselves. Two doctors would need to agree that a patient met the criteria and the option would not be open to minors, people without mental capacity or those who are not terminally ill.

“The final step would involve a doctor (or nurse) hand-delivering lethal drugs to the patient at a time and place of their choosing and staying with them while they took the drugs and until they were dead.”

I’m indebted also to Peter Saunders for the following three headings. He is not to blame for the comments thereafter, which are mine.

It’s unnecessary

The law

The present Suicide Act makes it illegal to aid, abet, counsel or procure the suicide of another, or an attempt by another to commit suicide, with a maximum penalty of no more than 14 years in gaol. The law is hedged round with safeguards such as prosecutions being carried out only by the Director of Public Prosecutions (within compassionate guidelines) and all the processes of jury trial and appeals. The law as it stands enshrines absolutely the protection of life, but allows the leeway of public interest and compassion, in other words, Portia’s principle of justice and mercy. The fact that in the 53 years since the Suicide Act was passed there has been no contentious court case is evidence that it’s not a bad piece of legislation.

End of life care

An aunt-sally propagated by the assisted-suicide lobby is that at present many doctors in fact covertly kill their terminally ill patients. I think they refer to the double effect of ceasing treatment or administering drugs with the intention of mitigating symptoms and alleviating pain. There is a category difference between that intervention and what the bill proposes (from understandable motives). A doctor friend of mine commented yesterday:

“Desmond Tutu, as quoted..., is completely misunderstanding the issue of assisted dying and my worry is that the bill will be passed based on these misunderstandings.

“Scenario 1) A person is terminally ill. It is their time to die and further treatment is futile and unnecessarily prolongs suffering (e.g. Repeated courses of chemotherapy, or the intensive care treatment of Nelson Mandela described in this article). We don't need a change in law for this. We need sensible, compassionate care.

“Scenario 2) A person is terminally ill and has a 'settled wish' to die. Two doctors therefore agree to end that persons life by way of administering drugs. This is what the bill proposes.” 

The accusation that palliative care specialists intend to kill their patients rather than ease their last hours has to my mind a hint of malice about it. 

Hippocratic oath v necessity

Nursing = caring

As I understand it, the aim of the bill is for health professionals (such as doctors and carers) to be allowed to take someone's life or to assist in their suicide: so for example allowing my doctor to administer a lethal injection at my request. That opens the door to doctors ceasing to be healers and carers, and becoming dealers in death. That is one of the most valuable safeguards in the DPP's Guidelines on Prosecution in respect of Assisted Dying, preventing health professionals helping someone taking their own life. I guess that's why the BMA is against a change in the law. As events proved, in Tony Nicklinson’s case for example, there was no necessity for a doctor to end his life. He could refuse treatment and ask for only symptom control and pain relief.

It’s unsafe

The bill itself

There are many aspects of the bill itself which are glaringly unsafe. For example the six month cut-off point: as any honest doctor will admit, such a precise prognosis is notoriously hard to make - witness the case of the “Lockerbie bomber” Al Megrahi being released having been given three months to live by the country’s leading cancer specialist, Professor Karol Sikora, and enjoying another three years of life back home. I know a number of people, such as the late Alison Davis, who are profoundly grateful that an early exit was not open to them, since they went on to live many more years of fulfilled life. For example the assessment of mental competence and settled desire simply by two doctors. There is no specifying of who the doctors should be, what their qualifications should be (for example psychiatrists). Presumably they would be doctors in favour of assisting death, and the prospect presents itself of the situation emerging in Holland of mobile euthanasia clinics with a couple of doctors ready to sign the necessary papers on board. For example, the requirement of informed consent. Does that mean being given a leaflet about local hospices, or palliative care packages? In my experience there’s no real alternative to visiting and staying in a place where you can experience care from the real experts.

Its implications

The proponents of assisted suicide often pillory the idea of a “slippery slope”. But experience shows it is unwise to do so. The Benelux countries and Switzerland (the only European nations with voluntary euthanasia) have witnessed a steady relaxation of the safeguards originally in place there. In the two US states where assisted suicide exists the number has steadily increased. Times of austerity (like the Depression of the 1930s) have seen a rise in euthanasia - see “Action T4” in Wikipedia (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Action_T4). Disturbingly one can hear hints of this in Desmond Tutu’s “But why is a life that is ending being prolonged? Why is money being spent in this way? It could be better spent on a mother giving birth to a baby, or an organ transplant needed by a young person. Money should be spent on those that are at the beginning or in full flow of their life.”

Peter Saunders’ comment is pertinent. “The right to die can so easily become the duty to die and the generation that has killed its children through abortion could very easily become that which is killed by its children through euthanasia and assisted suicide. Add in economic crisis, debt, cuts in health and welfare and the argument gains force by playing on popular prejudice against those perceived to be a drain on families and the state.”

Lord Carey cited cases of permanently disabled people to explain his change of mind. Yet they of course are not covered by this bill. One see how inevitably the argument will be, “Why not these people?” “And why not teenagers younger than 18?” “Why not those with a longer-term terminal illness? Those with a chronic painful condition?” And so euthanasia is upon us. Disabled campaigners such as Tanni Grey-Thompson and Baroness Jane Campbell are clear in warning of this danger.

A further real danger is that of the disabled and chronically experiencing explicit or implicit or self-generated pressure to ask for euthanasia. Personally I think the last is the most likely, as the disabled, chronically ill and elderly seek to alleviate the expense and anxiety of those who care for them, whether family or state. And it would also be naïve to underestimate the amount of elder abuse in this country.

It’s unethical

Compassion

Stephen Hawking who like me has a rare form of MND not long ago propounded what I call the “pet theory”. It goes something like this: we have our pets put down when they’re suffering. Surely people deserve better than that? However it’s also true that we have them put down because they become incontinent, because their vet bills rocket and because, to be blunt, they’re no longer afford us pleasure. In other words, it’s more about us than the pet.

Compassion, it seems, is often confused with pity. The true and original meaning of compassion is to suffer with, to stay with someone in their pain and darkness. It doesn’t mean to put them out of their misery; it doesn’t mean concurring that their life has lost its value; it doesn’t mean euthanising them. That’s a cheap imitation of compassion. True compassion is costly emotionally and often financially.

Investment in universal best palliative care is the true expression of compassion, not the offer of a cocktail of barbiturates, which is a perversion of therapy. 

Defence of the vulnerable

"You are not a burden."

Another mark of a civilised society is its attitude to the weak and vulnerable. Eugenics gained traction in the early 20th century, wanting to produce healthy strong and racially pure men and women. The weak went to the wall. I'm not concerned for myself - although I don't look forward to the process of dying - but I am concerned for the vulnerable, the disabled who don't have a voice, for the elderly who are at risk through dementia or frailty - for those who are increasingly regarded as a burden on their families, on society, on our nation's resources. It's those people our laws should protect. Ironically Lord Falconer’s bill seems to me to be about people who are far from vulnerable. It’s about determined people concerned to maintain control over their lives come what may.

Rights

Rights only come with responsibilities. My right to life, or to death, can't be isolated. If my demanding the right to die endangers the lives of others, then my responsibility to them trumps my choice. You can’t have a community, you can’t have a society where each person insists on his or her rights. Rights, in my view, are not possessions. They are what we afford each other. The danger of this legislation is that it begins to remove the right to life of the many to accommodate the right to choose of the few.

Value of life

Neither is life a possession. Life is bigger than us. We are a part of life. We are granted a share in the adventure which is life. In financially straitened times, such as we are told we are now in, there is a real test on the horizon: what do we value more - money, or life? That will be the measure of our society. I know what I would prioritise.

The value of life was long ago encapsulated in a simple principle, “You shall not murder”, a word which includes intentional killing, and also from carelessness or negligence. In other words life, of whatever perceived “quality”, is precious and to be protected.

Lord Falconer’s bill, well intentioned though it may be, is in my view unsafe and opens the way to consequences which, though denied, are entirely logical extensions of the breach in this principle. 

Talking of dying

Yesterday Jane and I went to Woodley near Reading - No, let me start one or two steps back from there. I'm a great admirer of Dr Kate Granger. She is one brave person, though she wouldn't bless me for saying so! Here's what she wrote about herself:
"I am a 31 year old Elderly Medicine Registrar working in Yorkshire in the UK. Nothing unusual about that really. But I am also a cancer patient, a terminally ill one with a very rare and aggressive form of sarcoma. On my blog I muse about current issues especially relating to end of life care, communication and patient centredness. I also write about my experiences as I approach the end of my life.

"I have written 2 books, The Other Side and The Bright Side. We sell these with all profits being donated to the Yorkshire Cancer Centre Appeal in Leeds. See my website for more details – http://www.theothersidestory.co.uk". 

I challenge you to read her latest blog post without being moved and inspired (apologies again, Kate!): Dear Cancer Part 2. Anyway it was while researching some talks that I came across her comments about the Liverpool Care Pathway, which was rubbished inter al by the Daily Mail (no surprise there!). Her comments last November in contrast to the media hysteria were unsurprisingly extremely well informed and balanced. For example, "When my time comes I really hope my care will follow the standardised LCP approach. I fully believe it improves care at the very end of life and results in more ‘good deaths’ with comfortable patients not undergoing futile painful interventions and well informed, emotionally supported relatives, making the grieving process that little bit easier." 

Sue Ryder House, Nettlebed

So that was step 1. Then Jane and I went to an MNDA tea put on by the local Sue Ryder Hospice at Nettlebed (once the home of none other than Ian Fleming) where our hostess, Lynn Brooks, mentioned a consultation afternoon being put for the Leadership Alliance for the Care of Dying People by Sue Ryder, in response to Lady Neuberger's More Care Less Pathway report which led in July to the Health Minister's scrapping the Liverpool Care Pathway and looking for an alternative approach. Was anyone interested? We were - and so we applied and got the last two places.  Step 2.

So, yesterday afternoon we drove across the Downs and along the motorway to Reading. Step 3. The Alliance was set up, I think, by a palliative care consultant in Oxford in order to produce a constructive way forward post-Neuberger, and it draws together parties from all over the health sector, from the Royal Colleges and NHS to those involved specifically in terminal care such as hospices. There were about 56 of us there on seven tables. Only a few of us were current "service users" and carers like Jane and me, though in the end all of us will be. It was an unusual experience being in a room where everyone was at ease talking about death and dying, but not a bad or morbid one - rather like the increasingly popular Death Cafés, I imagine. In fact one of the common themes that emerged from every table was the importance of communication, between the professionals and the patients (and if appropriate their families). I tend to agree with Kate Granger's ideal that a palliative care specialist should be present when someone is given a terminal diagnosis, or if not then at the next appointment. 

As a former teacher, I frankly think that the process of dying should find a place on the secondary curriculum. I'm not sure where it would fit in! Perhaps citizenship. Talking about what will happen to everyone seems a better use of time than debating the pros and cons of euthanasia, which only serves to increase fear of dying. Far better to break the taboo we nurture concerning death. Isn't time we were open about this great fact of life, rather than be scared stiff of it?

I imagine almost everyone who receives a diagnosis of a terminal or potentially terminal condition experiences some moments of fear.  I was no exception.  I was diagnosed with Motor Neurone Disease in the same year that Diane Pretty had died in the publicity of her court cases.  I was under no illusion as to what MND meant.  I knew it was life-limiting and life-ending.  In particular I had some fears about the manner of dying I could expect.  These were fuelled by the campaign surrounding such people as Ms Pretty, which portrays those with similar conditions as 'sufferers' and 'victims' and drip-feeds horror stories to the media - with the effect of exacerbating public fear.  

Don't mistake me.  MND, as a newly diagnosed friend recently observed to me, is a 'bugger', as are most neurological and terminal diseases.  I suppose, for that matter, most dying is too - which of course none of us avoid. 

In Yann Martel's remarkable novel, The Life of Pi, which I'm reading at the moment, the turning point for the 16-year old Pi Patel, alone with the terrifying Bengal tiger named in error, Richard Parker, on a lifeboat in the Pacific Ocean comes with a discovery. 
'I must say a word about fear.  It is life's only true opponent.  Only fear can defeat life.  It is a clever, treacherous adversary, how well I know.  It has no decency, respects no law or convention, shows no mercy.  It goes for your weakest spot, which it finds with unerring ease.  It begins with your mind, always….
'… Every part of you, in the manner most suited to it, falls apart.  Only your eyes work well.  They always pay proper attention to fear.
'Quickly you make rash decisions.  You dismiss your last allies: hope and trust.  There, you've defeated yourself.  Fear, which is but an impression, has triumphed over you' (chapter 56).  It's as he accepts the tiger's presence, loses his fear and starts to face it up and almost to befriend it that he discovers his ultimately successful survival strategy. 'And so it came to be: Plan Number Seven: Keep Him Alive.'

(My beef with the campaign for assisted dying/suicide is that it feeds on and fuels people's fear - our natural fear of pain, of dying, of the unknown.  We're told stories to increase our fear of the big beast, death. And that is toxic to society. We lose our trust and our hope. We run scared of dying and lose our humanity.)

The great joy for me yesterday was seeing in the flesh what the media seems to conceal rather than celebrate: the whole range of people from paramedics, nurses and doctors, to managers, befrienders and social carers whose ambition was to ensure that the journey towards death is neither solitary nor fearful. Talking can never remove the beast, but it can tame it. And that's why we should not be afraid to utter the very words, "death" and "dying". There's an excellent organisation called "Dying Matters" - no more concerned with the euthanasia debate than was yesterday's workshop, but working to break our society's unhealthy paralysing terror of death. It's neither sectarian nor political. It can be found at http://dyingmatters.org/. It seeks to promote discussion and public acceptance of dying.

This is a time of year when euphemisms such as "passing" or "becoming another star in the sky" seem particularly inappropriate. We remember those who faced the raw reality of death in war. Death is no less real in peacetime. Let's face it, not run from it. Ultimately Pi Patel survives and Richard Parker disappears, never to be seen again.


As we drove home, the wispy clouds were starting to catch pink hues from the setting sun, and it was nearly dark as we arrived home. 

Just visiting

I don't know what it indicates, but it seems I like writing to order. Last week my friend, Anita Matthias asked me if I'd like to write a guest post on her blog, Dreaming beneath the Spires. This is the way she describes it: “Dreaming Beneath the Spires attempts practical theology: examining the intersection of faith and daily life. It also meanders into books, writing, art, travel, gardening, motherhood and domesticity!" Its title of course echoes Matthew Arnold's description of Oxford in his elegy in memory of his friend, the poet Arthur Hugh Clough, Thyrsis, seen from Boar's Hill (between the city and the Vale of the White Horse where we live). It's a neat and humble way of adding variety to your blog, it seems to me, and probably of increasing your readership. 


Anyway, I rose to the bait and spent Friday thinking about Anita's challenge. This was the result (Tasting the goodness of God in the land of MND). 

Anita sends me a message on Facebook. Would I think about a guest post on her blog: “Perhaps on how you saw and discovered God's goodness (if you did) amidst the unexpected disability. So it will sort of sum up ‘My Donkeybody’  in a blog post...”? And I sit at the table gazing out of the window, wondering, “What have I got to say?” I was diagnosed with a Motor Neurone Disorder in 2002, and expected to go the way of the vast majority of MND patients and to be dead within a couple of years, after a rapid and distressing loss of muscle control.

Of course, I was a vicar at the time and had had a Christian faith as long as I could remember. That meant, according to some people, that it was especially incomprehensible and unfair that this random disease had hit me and, according to others, that I had an unfair advantage over others having the crutch of faith to soften the blow.

As it happened, evidently, I don’t have the usual ALS but the rare PLS (Primary Lateral Sclerosis) - if you like I have the protracted rather than the accelerated form. One of my friends with the same type was unsure which was preferable, a quick dying or a slow one. Personally, I’m glad still to be alive. However, I am 100% dependent on others for my survival. From getting up in the morning to getting undressed at night, I need help; getting fed, using the toilet, having a shower, going out - all require a carer, which in my case means Jane, my wife, unless she breaks her collar-bone as she did recently. Do I enjoy it? No. I wish I was able to walk on the Welsh hills with Jane and the dog, to feel the wind and jump the streams. I wish I could chat to my grandchildren without sounding monstrous. In 2010 I wrote a book with a young mum in South Africa, Jozanne Moss, who also had MND (‘I Choose Everything’). Her first section is “I wish...” in which she vividly lists the things that she misses or knows she won’t be able to do in the future: “I wish... I wish...”. In her conclusion she says, “I might not be able to be the mother I always wished I could be, but I am the mother that God intended for me to be for Luke and Nicole, in order for them to know and love Him.” It’s heart-wrenching. She died on 6th February. No, I don’t enjoy the frustrations. I regret what I’ve lost.

In one way, I envy Jozanne now, because presumably she sees clearly what she previously held on to by faith. As I look out through the french windows, the far side of the road is virtually invisible. I can just distinguish the outlines of the estate houses through the fog. But at a quick glance you wouldn’t know they were there. Even the other side of the garden, which isn’t big, is misty. Only the trough right next to the window retains its vibrant colours. As I reflect on Anita’s challenge, for that is how it feels (“how you saw and discovered God's goodness”), it seems as though this view is a metaphor for my perceptions at the moment. It feels as if a fog has descended on my old certainties.

Of course I know that the estate is there. Only yesterday I was winding my way in my wheelchair through its snickets in the warm sunshine to Cornerstone, the café where I’m always welcomed. Nothing’s changed about the estate, but my view of it has changed. Some years ago, God came and strangely warmed me. “Falling in love again” isn’t an adequate description for what that did to me, but it left its indelible mark. Perhaps that’s why I don’t doubt that God’s love is there; and yet now it is shrouded in mystery. Lovely friends with MND have died, and I can’t give an answer as to why they had it, anymore than why God who is love permits all the natural catastrophes and any of the personal tragedies which bedevil our world. If “all shall be well and all manner of thing shall be well”, which I’m still convinced is true, please don’t ask me to begin to explain how. That love is huger and more mysterious than the measures of my mind.

And yet I have evidence, even in the frustrations and physical limitations of my disease, of that love. A few weeks ago, on Ski Sunday, there was a remarkable interview with disabled skier, Peter Dunning, who lost his legs in an IED explosion in Afghanistan. "People may think it's the most strangest thing that I'm saying, but I think that getting blown up is one of the best things that's happened to me. I'm such a different person than I was. Before I was a bit of a lads' lad; now I'm more focused, more determined, and everything, to achieve what I want to achieve, like getting to the Paralympics, and progressing on from there." I can understand that. I’d prefer not to have MND. I’d rather not have the prospect of gradual decline and eventual fall. But what a gift to discover, for example, that, as I become more of a useless “burden”, it doesn’t even occur to my family and friends to stop loving me! In fact they want to carry me. And it’s incredibly liberating to discover that my value lies not in what I do, however impressive, but in what I am, warts and all.

I once made a list of where I’d found God’s love in my disability, eight gifts gratefully accepted. It began at home with the unconditional love of my family, and continued with the faithfulness of friends and the kindness of strangers; the care of professionals and MNDA volunteers. There’d been instances of unexpected provision over and above my needs. Then I recalled moments of beauty, like dew-bejewelled spiders’ webs, and moments of truth, when the Bible seemed to speak. And crucially the gift of bread and wine received as Christ’s body and blood given for me came to rescue me when my mind staggered and gave up.

I, like Peter Dunning, am a different person from who I was. I’m conscious of the mist, of the mystery that is God’s love. I wouldn’t now insist that everyone takes my route to Cornerstone. There are more paths than I’ve explored. I’ve found his love in unexpected people and paces. In fact, in a profound way, life has become more exciting, more of an adventure. I suppose I focus on what’s within my range, like the flowers in the trough, harbingers of spring, bursting with hope, those eight signs of God’s love given to me. Meanwhile I love Tennyson’s pilot, guiding his boat into harbour, whom he hoped to see face to face, when he had crossed the bar. St Paul spoke of  that Love: “For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known.”

The dissenting voice

Tucked away in the BBC's website report of today's campaigning report of assisted dying was a sentence which caught my eye. "However, one of the 11 commissioners, Reverend Canon Dr James Woodward, disagreed with the conclusion." I'd corresponded with him last year after my somewhat intemperate refusal to give evidence to the "commission", and apologised for tarring all the commission with the brush of prejudice at the outset. I've made no secret of my feelings about the whole exercise, but I have to say that Dr Woodward's statement in Appendix 3 of the lengthy report repays reading and for me is its redeeming conclusion. It can't have been easy to differ from the majority vote. 

He seems to me to have identified important issues, in particular breaking our society's taboo of discussion of death and dying, and having a broader debate about the kind of society we want to live in before thinking of changing any so fundamental law.

"As set out in the executive summary to this report, I do not feel able to put my name and support to the more specific recommendations that are made in chapters 11 and 12 of this report concerning the majority decision of the Commission that the present law could be changed to allow assisted dying in restricted circumstances. I support the coherence, rigour and quality of this work and hope that it will be read and used as a basis for further research, work and public debate. I regret that some have felt unable to contribute to the process of discussion, engagement and listening that has characterised the process. I wish to continue to work with my fellow Commission members to promote a deeper and wiser dialogue that moves away from polarised and entrenched positions on assisted dying that are incapable of listening to a wide range of issues and experience.

"In our work it has become clear that there are significant difficulties with the present law. My visit to Switzerland to learn something of the law and practice there raised many more questions about the way a culture views and values life, death and the freedom to choose. However this complex and contested area of human life cannot be dealt with through the law or medicine alone. We need to engage further with the social and ethical reflections on experiences of death and dying. The ethical debate is not over and it is the responsibility of all ‘sides’ of the debate to listen more carefully to the questions and concerns of one another.

"Further there are important theological questions about suffering, personhood and the value of the vulnerable that need to inform a more open conversation about death and dying in Britain today. I am particularly concerned about the adequacy of UK health and social care where dignity and compassion are values that are universally affirmed but often not part of the day to day practice of those who are tasked to care.

"In conclusion I believe that a broader societal debate is required before any attempt is made to move to a change in the law on assisted dying. As a society we need to bring all our collective wisdom to bear on these questions in an open and honest fashion. I understand that my particular view is a minority one and I both respect and admire my fellow Commissioners in their views and recommendations. I hope that the report will be read carefully — it is an important contribution to the debate."

I have written to thank him, and I very much hope his thoughtful voice will be listened to. Meanwhile, in response to my last post, Sally, a doctor friend of ours, could have begun part of the discussion with this powerful message: "Years ago, while working in a hospice, I admitted a patient who was in agony having had totally inadequate analgesia in a prior hospital. His wife was screaming at me to end his life, and he was rolling around in agony, but within in a short time he was sound asleep with good analgesia. He slept for about three days having been completely exhausted by being left in severe pain. He eventually woke up and subsequently had a good death. 

There is such a thing as a good death, but death is remote and almost taboo in contemporary society. We should not abdicate responsibility for striving for excellence in palliative and terminal care. We should not turn doctors into executioners. This is not a religious discussion. Civilised secular society has a role in addressing the concept of a good death which has no need whatsoever to involve killing."

Good morning!

When Jane pulled back the curtains this morning, I looked out on a clear blue sky and the houses over the road lit up by sunshine.

When I turned on the radio, there was an item about the report on end of life care provision by the CEO of Marie Curie Cancer Care, Thomas Hughes-Hallett. He was talking about it at 7.10, and then, an hour later, there was a discussion about it with Care Services Minister, Paul Burstow, and the palliative care consultant at St Thomas' and Guy's hospitals, Rob George, introduced by a clip of Tony Bonser, describing his son, Neil's death at his home, "He died peacefully, where he wanted to be" - thanks to a Macmillan nurse's intervention, asking the right question at the right time. It was a brilliant example of how dying can be managed well - so different from the many scare stories that are peddled too often. You can hear it half way down this article. The report seems to be saying that more widely available palliative care at home and in hospices would actually save on hospital budgets and therefore not cost the NHS more. Refreshingly, the minister welcomed the government-commissioned report without reservation; unsurprisingly he wouldn't be acting on it straightaway - examining implications, pilot projects etc. But it was good to hear something really positive about end of life care.

Perhaps the most encouraging point in the Today programme was the very end when John Humphrys said: "Just before we close, we've had a huge response to our item on palliative care, the care of people who are dying... very warm praise from an awful lot of listeners for Tony Bonser who spoke so passionately and with such dignity about the death of his own son, who was terrified of hospitals and did eventually, in fact, die at home. One email in particular caught our attention, Marian Nash whose father died just on Sunday. She arrived at the care home just as they were calling the ambulance, even though he would not have wanted to go to the hospital, and in the end she says, 'she fought her corner' and he died at home. She says he had a beautiful death surrounded by two of his children and with his favourite music playing in the background. 'I dread to think what his end would have been in hospital.' And that's what so many people have been saying. And every single email we've had,... from people who've had experience of hospices , says how wonderful they have been and how great care workers have been at home." Maybe the BBC is learning to give the silent majority its voice - or maybe the silent majority is finding its voice.

That wasn't all. The Chief Rabbi, Jonathan Sacks, a good argument for Judaism, was giving Thought for the Day. He was reflecting on the prevailing mood of pessimism and on actually how blessed we are. We may be preoccupied with cut-backs and pensions, but in a global and historical perspective (he mentioned his parents and grandparents who, I guess, were in mid 20th century Europe) "The lot has fallen to me in a pleasant place," he quoted from the Psalms, "I have a goodly heritage." Amen, that's true.

A couple of hours later I was reminded of the Burmese pro-democracy leader, Aung San Suu Kyi, who gave the first of this year's Reith lectures on Tuesday morning. What a brave woman! 21 years under house arrest, refusing to leave Burma for fear of not being let back in - even at the cost of seeing her two sons and not being able to see her dying husband. We take so much for granted, and we gripe about such insignificant things. 

A positive gift from the past

I got quite emotional this morning when I heard the beautiful voice of my late cousin on BBC Radio 4. It was on Sunday Worship with the theme of The Healing of Fear. Michael Ford played part of an interview he made last September with Grace Sheppard, as she faced her death from cancer. She talked about the power of gratitude, developing a habit of thankfulness for all the little things, pictures, flowers, a drink, which mount up. "To me, they're a gift from God... and it helps you do the hard bits."

from Chester Diocesan News

She spent her last days in St John's Hospice, hovering between two worlds. "Despite difficulties with her breathing,  Grace told Jenny (her daughter) that dying was nothing to be afraid of. In fact, she felt distinct excitement, and could discern something wonderful about what was going to happen. In the consoling atmosphere of the hospice, Jenny felt that dying was no more fearful than being born."

You can hear Grace on Radio 4, Sunday Worship, 20 Feb, at 27 minutes in.

The other St Peter's

I don't really apologise for all my posts about the Papal visit - because for one thing, when you're confined to sitting in a chair, it's nice to have a prolonged spectacle to follow. Other than sporting events, there's no equivalent to watch, even normal state visits. And sporting events, other perhaps than the Olympics, don't provide such sustained interest. What's more with the different speeches this event has engaged the intellect.

I don't know whether Pope Benedict uses speech writers. He's certainly bright enough not to need to. I imagine it's a collaborative exercise. Whatever, the range and depth of his speeches over the four days was astonishing. I'm hoping they will be left on the Papal Visit website long enough for them to be re-read and digested. The one which, for obvious reasons, I listened to with keen interest was when he addressed the elderly residents of St Peter's in Vauxhall on Saturday afternoon. The context of the extremely old people being cared for through their final years was poignant. This is it (with my emphases):

'My dear Brothers and Sisters,

'I am very pleased to be among you, the residents of Saint Peter’s, and to thank Sister Marie Claire and Mrs Fasky for their kind words of welcome on your behalf. I am also pleased to greet Archbishop Smith of Southwark, as well as the Little Sisters of the Poor and the personnel and volunteers who look after you.

'As advances in medicine and other factors lead to increased longevity, it is important to recognize the presence of growing numbers of older people as a blessing for society. Every generation can learn from the experience and wisdom of the generation that preceded it. Indeed the provision of care for the elderly should be considered not so much an act of generosity as the repayment of a debt of gratitude.

'For her part, the Church has always had great respect for the elderly. The Fourth Commandment, “Honour your father and your mother as the Lord your God commanded you” (Deut 5:16), is linked to the promise, “that your days may be prolonged, and that it may go well with you, in the land which the Lord your God gives you” (Deut 5:16). This work of the Church for the aging and infirm not only provides love and care for them, but is also rewarded by God with the blessings he promises on the land where this commandment is observed. God wills a proper respect for the dignity and worth, the health and well-being of the elderly and, through her charitable institutions in Britain and beyond, the Church seeks to fulfil the Lord’s command to respect life, regardless of age or circumstances.

'At the very start of my pontificate I said, “Each of us is willed, each of us is loved, each of us is necessary” (Homily at the Mass for the Beginning of the Petrine Ministry of the Bishop of Rome, 24 April 2005). Life is a unique gift, at every stage from conception until natural death, and it is God’s alone to give and to take. One may enjoy good health in old age; but equally Christians should not be afraid to share in the suffering of Christ, if God wills that we struggle with infirmity. My predecessor, the late Pope John Paul, suffered very publicly during the last years of his life. It was clear to all of us that he did so in union with the sufferings of our Saviour. His cheerfulness and forbearance as he faced his final days were a remarkable and moving example to all of us who have to carry the burden of advancing years.

'In this sense, I come among you not only as a father, but also as a brother who knows well the joys and the struggles that come with age. Our long years of life afford us the opportunity to appreciate both the beauty of God’s greatest gift to us, the gift of life, as well as the fragility of the human spirit. Those of us who live many years are given a marvellous chance to deepen our awareness of the mystery of Christ, who humbled himself to share in our humanity. As the normal span of our lives increases, our physical capacities are often diminished; and yet these times may well be among the most spiritually fruitful years of our lives. These years are an opportunity to remember in affectionate prayer all those whom we have cherished in this life, and to place all that we have personally been and done before the mercy and tenderness of God. This will surely be a great spiritual comfort and enable us to discover anew his love and goodness all the days of our life.

'With these sentiments, dear brothers and sisters, I am pleased to assure you of my prayers for you all, and I ask for your prayers for me. May our blessed Lady and her spouse Saint Joseph intercede for our happiness in this life and obtain for us the blessing of a serene passage to the next.

'May God bless you all!'

Some of my readers may be sceptical about, or even object to, asking deceased saints to pray for us. But as my saintly granny used to say about praying for them, "I don't suppose it does them any harm." And quite what the logic is of asking Christians on earth (the Church Militant, as they were known) to pray for you, but not Christians in heaven (the Church Triumphant), I'm not sure. They might even have more idea what exactly to pray....

However that should not deflect us from applauding the Holy Father's main message, "That life is a gift from conception to natural death" - and that faith enables us to meet its joys and sufferings, so that the times of diminishing powers can be spiritually the most fruitful. Oh yes? Really? Well, he says, quietly as always, "Look at my predecessor John Paul living and dying with Parkinson's." Cheerfulness and forbearance - I'll try and remember.