By whatever contrivances you wish to postulate, you find yourself infected with the extremely rare Virus X. Virus X is invariably lethal if left untreated, and its progression is fairly rapid. Typically, about a fortnight passes between infection and death and involves three phases. The first phase–the only time during which the disease is communicable–lasts about a week; it’s all but unsymptomatic, its effects so mild they are generally mistaken for a slight cold. During the second phase, which lasts four to five days, the symptoms get progressively worse–a really bad case of the flu. Persons in phase three (typically lasting two to three days–experience such horrendous pain that they typically must be put into a coma to escape the worst of it, and invariably die.
The good news is that there’s a medication–let’s call it ambrosia-- capable of spanking Virus X so long as the infection is caught in phase one. Unfortunately, you’re in phase two, and ambrosia will no longer do the trick alone. During this phase the medicine nectar must be added. Together, ambrosia and nectar generally do the trick–but they also cause profound brain damage, reducing the patient to the mental capacity of of a two year old, though leaving his or her memories intact. Currently, there is no hope of improvement from that state. Oh, and incidentally, no therapy avails once the patient reaches phase 3?
The doctors ask you what you want to do. Do you say
[ol]
[li]Life is too sweet to give up, even if reduced to imbecility. Let me have one last night so I can make love to my spouse and reread Songs of Experience one last time, and then gimme the pharmaceutical cocktail; or[/li][li]Intelligence is too important to sacrifice, even at the cost of life. Put me in a coma when the time comes. I’ll be rereading Flowers for Algernon in the meantime; or[/li]See you later, Doc. I’d rather check out on my own terms, so I’m gonna go watch the very best episodes of Mad men and then give myself a neat lead injection in the mouth when it’s over.[/ol]
I can say without question that - no matter the details - I would rather die than linger, incapacitated. The thought of winding up like Terry Schivo … and of having people fighting to *keep *me like that, rather than just letting me go … that gives me the heebiest of jeebies. (total hijack alert! pt. I)
I believe that life in prison with no chance of parole is a far crueler sentence than being put to rather immediate death. (total hijack alert! pt. II) I can also say that I’m no fan of pain and also of being really, really sick, so if that’s how I’m gonna go out and I know it in advance, I’d rather die a little sooner than that.
Also … I’m saying all this while feeling relatively healthy and with some sort of short-term future to look forward to and enjoy, so I’m sure my answer would change if the imminent death was actually imminent and I was looking into Mr. Horseshoe’s sweet brown eyes.
Of course, the choice isn’t between utter death and brain death. It’s between death & profound retardation, coupled with the memory of what you used to be. You’d know what you used to be able to do all the stuff that is now beyond you. To my mind that much worse than a Terry Shiavo situation, as, if I recall aright, her brain was much and so her mind no longer existed.
The braindead option would financially and emotionally ruin my loved ones. That alone is reason enough to choose what’s behind curtain number two or three.
I would send a message to as many people as possible that I had been in contact with during that week to have themselves checked out for virus x and then bid my loved ones goodbye. I don’t think I could shoot myself but I would find a way to end my life.
Definitely option #3, although I’ve never heard of Mad Men, and I’d spend the time updating my will, writing letters to friends and loved ones, and spending one last really good day with my wife.
The Celtling would be better off with me gone. I wouldn’t want to stick around just to be a burden to everyone.
I’d let the disease do me in, I’m not afraid of pain, and would want her to know that I stayed with her as long as I could, just in case a cure came along.
The only exception would be if I had reason to believe she might need an organ donation some day. Like if she had severe diabetes and so might need a kidney eventually. If so, I’d stick around until she needed it, and hire MS-13 to kill me in front of an ER if the time was ever right.
Need more info. So I’m reduced to the mental capacity of a two-year-old. What exactly does that mean? I can run around, play with the dog in the garden, watch cartoons, get treats when I make a nice poo in the appropriate place, have all my food cooked for me and all my laundry done, but at the same time, there’s a downside – I’ll be tormented by the memory of my adult years in the software industry? I don’t know. This bit about having the brain capacity of a two-year-old coupled with the nightmare memories of end-to-end enterprise solutions designed to enhance business productivity has me all tangled up in knots. I sort of feel as though I’m already living it…
I’m interested to notice that so many people are picking #3 (suicide) over #2 (natural death from the disease, but with a coma to avoid suffering). I wonder what’s up with that?
Option 3 for me, with certain modifications. I don’t particularly care about TV, but I’d want to get my affairs in order. Then I’d probably buy the biggest bag of that marij-crack-smack-phetamine stuff the kids are into, and do it until my eyes bleed. Then it’s time to eat a magnum.
Eh, I’ll go against the crowd once again and say that I would choose the mentally retarded option over being dead, as long as I had someone who would be a decent guardian/caretaker.
I can imagine enjoying life even if I was profoundly mentally retarded. I have probably met more mentally retarded people than most folks do (being a doc and having them as patients sometimes). They seem to be at least as happy as anyone else.
Heck, I know a lot of people who are fairly smart but also very neurotic and prone to over analyze things. I think they make life harder for themselves than it has to be.
Having a simpler, easier life might not be that bad, really.