In Jahi McMath's case her treatment was withheld because, in effect, someone
decided she was not “there” anymore. This is otherwise known as the
legal fiction of “brain death.” One must ask the obvious question, as
did the astute physician Dr. Paul Byrne: if the brain were truly “dead”
as was alleged, what force then caused the heart to still beat?
I suspect for heart transplants you need a beating heart else the heart organ would be dead and not transferable. So, a donor must be brain dead but still alive. (my conclusion)
http://lifelegalguardians.org
440865
.
Gone ballistic scenarios. Activist by default. audreyjlaferriere@gmail.com phone: 604-321-2276,do not leave voice mail http://voiceofgoneballistic.blogspot.com 207-5524 Cambie Street, Vancouver, B.C. V5Z 3A2 Everything posted I believe to be true. If not, please let me know.
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Thursday, January 29, 2015
Sunday, January 25, 2015
Assisted Suicide legislation a slippery slope
Assisted suicide plans 'naive'
The Courier
Elderly
parents could be encouraged to kill themselves by their children to
prevent costly care bills eating into their inheritance if assisted
suicide is legalised, MSPs have been warned.
Proposals
to allow sick people - including teenagers as young as 16 and elderly
people - to seek help to end their own lives have been attacked by
palliative care experts and religious groups.
The
Assisted Suicide (Scotland) Bill is "dangerously naive" and so vague it
could legalise assisted suicide by loaded gun, experts said in
submissions to Holyrood's Health Committee.
Dr
Stephen Hutchison, consultant physician in palliative medicine at the
Highland Hospice in Inverness, said: "In the UK, elder abuse affects
over half a million people, with the perpetrators commonly being friends
or family.
"In
the face of chronic illness and dependence, and the prospect of
expensive care eroding the family's inheritance, the availability of
assisted suicide could create further risk to the frail and elderly and
expose them to unhealthy societal and internal pressures."
International
evidence suggests the legalisation of assisted suicide could be the
start of a "slippery slope" to a wider acceptance of suicide for
non-life limiting conditions, he added.
He
said: "The relaxation of criteria and disregard for the law as seen
elsewhere is almost certain to be replicated here if assisted suicide
was to be legalised. To argue otherwise is dangerously naive."
In
Belgium, a transsexual was euthanised following a failed sex change,
deaf twins ended their lives because they feared going blind, while a
women with depression and another woman with anorexia died by
euthanasia, he said.
An
elderly Italian lady received assisted suicide in Switzerland "because
she was distressed about losing her looks", and another sought death
"because she felt unable to adjust to the modern world", he said.
One
doctor in Oregon "encouraged a sick man to have assisted suicide, much
to the alarm of his wife" but he went on to live a further five years,
he said.
Professor
Marie Fallon and Dr David Jeffrey said the Bill "represents a paradigm
shift in medical ethics which will have a damaging effect on the
doctor-patient relationship".
They
said: "The Bill is alarmingly vague as to the means of suicide. As it
stands, could it include supplying the patient with a loaded gun?"
The
Muslim Council of Scotland said: "Evidence shows that wherever assisted
suicide is legalised, it inevitably leads to increasingly more people
becoming eligible to end their lives prematurely, the recent example of
Belgium's extension of euthanasia to children confirming that in this
area the slippery slope is real."
The
Children's Hospice Association said: "For neuro-developmental reasons,
young people up to the age of about 25 years old do not fully associate
their own death with permanent erasure from existence.
"This
is extremely important because it means a young person might ask for
assisted suicide for reasons that have nothing to do with an actual
desire to die in the sense that death is understood by older adults."
The experts will give evidence to the Health Committee on Tuesday.y PRESS ASSOCIATION, 23 January 2015 6.46pm. Updated: 24 January 2015 12:13pm.

Saturday, January 24, 2015
Children who want to hasten death of relative for money
Two examples are explained by Jim Shockley, probate lawyer. It is worth the time to watch.
See Jim Shockley, MTSS against Euthanasia, You Tube 4.49 minutes.
re dangers of a living will (advance directive)
re undue influence
re morphine to hasten death
See Jim Shockley, MTSS against Euthanasia, You Tube 4.49 minutes.
re dangers of a living will (advance directive)
re undue influence
re morphine to hasten death
Thursday, January 22, 2015
Grief
Grief is not easy. It can throw our lives into anguish and upheaval, and we are left wondering how to deal with it.
It takes time and a thousand tears to accept the death of someone you love . . . you may receive great comfort from people who have been in the place of sadness where you are now. In our sorrow, we are all connected.
Susan Florence
It takes time and a thousand tears to accept the death of someone you love . . . you may receive great comfort from people who have been in the place of sadness where you are now. In our sorrow, we are all connected.
Susan Florence
Monday, January 19, 2015
Slippery, slippery, slippery
Canadian Proposal Would Allow Doctors to Euthanize Mentally Disabled Patients
by Wesley J. Smith | Ottawa, Canada | LifeNews.com | 1/16/15 11:05 AMIn the 1990s by the Canadian Supreme Court ruled that assisted suicide is not a constitutional right. But the Court has again taken up the issue–and hence, I suspect the handwriting is on the wall.
That seems so clear that culture of death advocates are already making serious proposals to determine the look of the beast that seems to be a-aborning. University of Victoria bioethicist Eike-Henner W. Kluge has made news with a “Legislative Proposal” that would:
1. Establish euthanasia death courts–also being proposed in the UK–in a country that doesn’t permit capital punishment;
2. Allow a broad license to be euthanized based on almost wholly subjective criteria;
3. Allow the courts to order the incompetent to be euthanized.
Here are a few specifics. First, the right to be killed would be totally subjective, based on “values” of the person wanting to die:
If a person suffers from an incurable and irremediable disease or medical condition, and if that person experiences the disease or condition as violating the fundamental values of that person.
There would be Death Courts:
that person may make application to a superior court for permission to request the assistance of a physician in terminating his life as quickly and as painlessly as possible in keeping with the fundamental values of that person;Can you imagine who would teach the judges about how to decide these issues? It wouldn’t be professors or “experts” who believe in the sanctity/equality of human life or the Hippocratic Oath!
At least the suicidal patient has to be “competent.” But wait! The incompetent could be killed too:
Any person who suffers from an incurable and irremediable disease or medical condition, and who, by reason of incompetence, is unable to make application to a court as allowed under sec. yyy.1, may have such application made for him by a duly empowered proxy decision-maker using appropriate standards of proxy decision-making.People who were never competent could be killed, by the way. What could go wrong?
Maybe I missed it, but there are no conscience exemptions provided for doctors–or for that matter, judges.
Also note: The killing would be paid for by the government as Canada as a single payer health care system.
Please don’t say that Canada would never adopt a killing regime so unconstrained as Kluge’s proposal. Quebec’s new law is almost as radical.
At the very least can we finally acknowledge that this issue is not about terminal illness?
Of course we can’t. We live in culture that shelters from reality through the intentional embrace of pretense.
LifeNews.com Note: Wesley J. Smith, J.D., is a special consultant to the Center for Bioethics and Culture and a bioethics attorney who blogs at Human Exeptionalism.
.
This is what they were doing to Randy. He was declared incompetent in February 2014 by Dr. Dunne, a doctor who Randy did not want, and although I was Randy's representative, I was not told. At the same time they were making a subjective case against me for being incompetent as well. How could they do this without even talking to or notifying me. We do not have to wait for legislation it is already here. They wanted him to agree to a DNR Order thus the next time he got pneumonia his heart rate would exceed what is normal and he would die. I am not even talking about assisted suicide, I am talking DNRs.
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Sunday, January 18, 2015
Supply creates Demand
We demand,
and death is obtained not because we suffer, but because we are afraid
at the thought of suffering ...
The countries that are questioning possible legalization should be aware that supply creates demand.
When euthanasia was authorized twelve years ago in Belgium, it was presented as an ethical transgression, an exception reserved for extreme situations. Twelve years later, its scope has expanded considerably.
Etienne Montero
author of Appointment with Death
The countries that are questioning possible legalization should be aware that supply creates demand.
When euthanasia was authorized twelve years ago in Belgium, it was presented as an ethical transgression, an exception reserved for extreme situations. Twelve years later, its scope has expanded considerably.
Etienne Montero
author of Appointment with Death
Wednesday, January 14, 2015
My mother died fom a mild stroke
By Kate Kelly
katekellyis@yahoo.com
I watched an old woman die of hunger and thirst. She had Alzheimer's, this old woman, was child-like, trusting, vulnerable, with a child's delight at treats of chocolate and ice cream, and a child's fear and frustration when tired or ill.
I watched her suffer, and I listened to the medical practitioners, to a son who legally decided her fate, and to an eldest daughter who advised him and told me that the old woman, my mother, was "comfortable," except when she was "in distress," at which times the nurses medicated her to make her "comfortable" again.
I
watched the old woman develop ulcerations inside her mouth as she
became more and more dehydrated; the caregivers assured me these were
not painful.
I listened to her breathing become more and more laboured, as her lungs became congested from the morphine administered every three to four hours, and later every hour.
That is what morphine does, you see. It relieves pain, but its cumulative effect is that eventually it shuts down the respiratory system.
No one explained why the old woman was given morphine in the first place, since she was conscious and trying to speak. It is normal that a mild stroke causes temporary inability to swallow, slurred speech, and a severe headache, but all of these are often reversed when the stroke victim is treated and the treatment includes nourishment and water.
The explanation for not giving nourishment and water - a feeding tube and IV (intravenous) - is that these were "extraordinary measures" for keeping someone alive.
I watched the old woman day and night for six days. The first night, after the first shot of morphine, her mouth hung open and her tongue started to roll and flutter. At the same time, her jaw trembled continuously.
This went on all night and into the early hours of the morning. Her mouth never closed again, except to clamp tightly on wet cloths placed on her lips. Her eyes were partially closed, but they moved back and forth, back and forth, becoming small slits after seven or eight hours, not closing fully until that long first night was over.
She opened her eyes only once after that, when the nurse was late with the morphine, on the third, or maybe the fourth, day.
The old woman started to moan.
Not moaning, said the nurses and the old woman's eldest daughter. Just air escaping from the lungs. Not moaning at all.
The old woman's eyes started to open, and the air escaping from the lungs sounded exactly like a moan of agony, as the old woman's face twisted in horrible contortions. I screamed, "Her eyes are opening! Oh, God. Oh, God!"
Even
as the morphine, quickly injected by a disconcerted nurse, caused the
old woman's eyes to close and her face to relax, I doubted its
efficacy. I thought back to the night before, when I, in tears at the
old woman's slow dying, had been confronted by a delegation of four of
the nursing staff, each of them in turn trying to convince me that the
old woman was not suffering in any way at all. The morphine, they said,
takes away all pain.
But, I answered them, she can feel: she's squeezing my hand, and if I try to take my hand out of hers, she squeezes tighter, and when I hold a little piece of gauze to her lips, she tries to suck the water out of it. She's thirsty! This is a horror; this is cruelty!
No, they said. She's not thirsty. It's just reflex. But, I tell them, I watched her clamp her lips on the gauze so tightly that I had to pull to get it out of her mouth.
Sometimes she described the progress of her mother's death, She's probably down to about 60 pounds now, she pronounced.
Sometimes - I'm not sure when I noticed it first - the nurses asked us to leave while they attended to the old woman. Other times they didn't. Once, perhaps on the fourth day, I told them I didn't have to leave: I had watched them turn her, I had seen her tiny naked body as they gently washed her. I didn't even flinch anymore when they injected the syringe of morphine.
We have to give her a suppository, they said.
A suppository? Why?
For anxiety, they said.
Anxiety. So that she would appear to die with dignity. The morphine was no longer enough. This courageous old woman, who could face, who had faced, unimaginable hardships with nothing but her faith and her dignity, she could teach you about dignity, I thought to myself.
On the fifth day the
eldest daughter visited twice. On her second visit, several staff
members entered the room with her. They were all talking loudly, about
nothing in particular, except for one care worker, fond of the old
woman, who walked over to the bed and called the old woman's name loudly
enough to interrupt the others' light conversation. She examined the
old woman's hands, lifted the sheet covering her and looked at her legs
and feet. She called the old woman's name again, and the care worker's
face showed alarm.
How long has it been? she asked. She's not even mottling! (Mottling is the term given to describe the blackening of the feet and hands as the body, dehydrating, tries to preserve the vital organs by stopping the flow of blood to the limbs).
You know, continued the care worker, I don't think it's her time. It's been, what, five days? If she had been ready to go, she'd have gone in 24 hours.
The room went quiet. The care worker and I looked at each other. You're right, I said. The eldest daughter and one of the nurses began to tell her she was wrong, and a nurse hustled her out of the room.
By the sixth night I was not sure I could go on. I slept for an hour or so every four or five hours. I still sat in the chair by her bed, but now I slept with my head on bed, near her stomach.
The old woman's breathing was laboured, her will to live defying the system and the foolish young doctor who, on that first night, gave her 24 hours to live, as though he were God Himself.
My heart was breaking for her. I could do nothing to save her, could do nothing but suffer with her. I cried much of the time, but softly, so she would not know. I didn't want to add to her agony.
I had been there six days. She could no longer hold my hand, so I slipped my hand gently under hers. I felt an anguish so profound that I began to wonder if I could survive it.
The old woman's breathing was suddenly no longer laboured. Her breath eased from her, and her face - oh, her face had become the colour of pearls.
In a split second, the frown that had creased the line between her brows was smoothed away. Her head rested gently to one side. Two care workers entered the room. I saw them in my peripheral vision, but I kept my gaze on the old woman.
We're just going to turn her, one of the workers said.
No, I said, my mother is dying.
One of them left to get a nurse, and then the old woman - my dear mother, my little, child-like, beautiful mother - died.
I put my arms round her, kissed her poor, closed eyes and her now relaxed mouth, and held her limp, tiny body, no more struggling for breath.
I watched an old woman die of hunger and thirst. I watched her die for six days and nights. I watched her suffer, and struggle, and hold onto life.
She had not often found life easy, but she had always found it worthwhile. She was 94 years old. She had been born and had lived all her life in Canada. She had worked hard all her life, married, raised three children, voted, paid taxes, saved enough money to buy her own home, obeyed the laws, donated to charity, done volunteer work, paid her bills, and given much love and brought much joy to many, many people in her 94 years.
In return, in the spring of 2009, her son and her eldest daughter, with the permission and assistance of the law, because this old woman had had a mild stroke, refused her food and water. She could not swallow, so she would have needed the food and water administered artificially.
And the youngest daughter could do nothing except watch her mother die slowly, and write this, in the hope that my mother's death, like her life, will have made a difference.
katekellyis@yahoo.com
I watched an old woman die of hunger and thirst. She had Alzheimer's, this old woman, was child-like, trusting, vulnerable, with a child's delight at treats of chocolate and ice cream, and a child's fear and frustration when tired or ill.
I watched her die for six days and nights.
I watched her suffer, and I listened to the medical practitioners, to a son who legally decided her fate, and to an eldest daughter who advised him and told me that the old woman, my mother, was "comfortable," except when she was "in distress," at which times the nurses medicated her to make her "comfortable" again.

I listened to her breathing become more and more laboured, as her lungs became congested from the morphine administered every three to four hours, and later every hour.
That is what morphine does, you see. It relieves pain, but its cumulative effect is that eventually it shuts down the respiratory system.
No one explained why the old woman was given morphine in the first place, since she was conscious and trying to speak. It is normal that a mild stroke causes temporary inability to swallow, slurred speech, and a severe headache, but all of these are often reversed when the stroke victim is treated and the treatment includes nourishment and water.
The explanation for not giving nourishment and water - a feeding tube and IV (intravenous) - is that these were "extraordinary measures" for keeping someone alive.
I watched the old woman day and night for six days. The first night, after the first shot of morphine, her mouth hung open and her tongue started to roll and flutter. At the same time, her jaw trembled continuously.
This went on all night and into the early hours of the morning. Her mouth never closed again, except to clamp tightly on wet cloths placed on her lips. Her eyes were partially closed, but they moved back and forth, back and forth, becoming small slits after seven or eight hours, not closing fully until that long first night was over.
She opened her eyes only once after that, when the nurse was late with the morphine, on the third, or maybe the fourth, day.
The old woman started to moan.
Not moaning, said the nurses and the old woman's eldest daughter. Just air escaping from the lungs. Not moaning at all.
The old woman's eyes started to open, and the air escaping from the lungs sounded exactly like a moan of agony, as the old woman's face twisted in horrible contortions. I screamed, "Her eyes are opening! Oh, God. Oh, God!"

But, I answered them, she can feel: she's squeezing my hand, and if I try to take my hand out of hers, she squeezes tighter, and when I hold a little piece of gauze to her lips, she tries to suck the water out of it. She's thirsty! This is a horror; this is cruelty!
No, they said. She's not thirsty. It's just reflex. But, I tell them, I watched her clamp her lips on the gauze so tightly that I had to pull to get it out of her mouth.
She reacts when you touch her feet, her legs, and her hair. If she can feel that she can feel thirst, I plead with them.
It's not the same, they tell me. She's not in pain.
I look at her. But what if you're wrong? I say. What if you're wrong?
They stand there,
saying nothing. Then one looks at the old woman and says, we'd better
turn her now. She and another care worker go about the business of
repositioning the old woman, to keep her “comfortable" and the other
two leave.
The days and nights
went in and out of focus. I sat in a chair at the side of the old
woman's bed, one hand grasped tightly by her hand. I slept an hour or
two, here and there, waking always with a start.
"I'm here," I murmured,
so the old woman would know I was keeping the promise I made to her on
the first night, after her son and eldest daughter left to get some
food, drink, and rest. I promised her then, "I will not leave here
until you do."
The old woman was
fading by the fourth day. Her eldest daughter had been visiting for an
hour or so each day, usually mid-morning. This daughter, a former
hospital worker, lightly stroked her mother's face and hair and timed
the length of her mother's "breath apnea," the length of time her
mother
stopped breathing.
She announced the
number of seconds, and then counted the number of breaths between each
stopped breath. Seven breaths, she said, 11 breaths.
Sometimes she described the progress of her mother's death, She's probably down to about 60 pounds now, she pronounced.
Sometimes - I'm not sure when I noticed it first - the nurses asked us to leave while they attended to the old woman. Other times they didn't. Once, perhaps on the fourth day, I told them I didn't have to leave: I had watched them turn her, I had seen her tiny naked body as they gently washed her. I didn't even flinch anymore when they injected the syringe of morphine.
We have to give her a suppository, they said.
A suppository? Why?
For anxiety, they said.
Anxiety. So that she would appear to die with dignity. The morphine was no longer enough. This courageous old woman, who could face, who had faced, unimaginable hardships with nothing but her faith and her dignity, she could teach you about dignity, I thought to myself.
How long has it been? she asked. She's not even mottling! (Mottling is the term given to describe the blackening of the feet and hands as the body, dehydrating, tries to preserve the vital organs by stopping the flow of blood to the limbs).
You know, continued the care worker, I don't think it's her time. It's been, what, five days? If she had been ready to go, she'd have gone in 24 hours.
The room went quiet. The care worker and I looked at each other. You're right, I said. The eldest daughter and one of the nurses began to tell her she was wrong, and a nurse hustled her out of the room.
By the sixth night I was not sure I could go on. I slept for an hour or so every four or five hours. I still sat in the chair by her bed, but now I slept with my head on bed, near her stomach.
The old woman's breathing was laboured, her will to live defying the system and the foolish young doctor who, on that first night, gave her 24 hours to live, as though he were God Himself.
My heart was breaking for her. I could do nothing to save her, could do nothing but suffer with her. I cried much of the time, but softly, so she would not know. I didn't want to add to her agony.
I had been there six days. She could no longer hold my hand, so I slipped my hand gently under hers. I felt an anguish so profound that I began to wonder if I could survive it.
The old woman's breathing was suddenly no longer laboured. Her breath eased from her, and her face - oh, her face had become the colour of pearls.
In a split second, the frown that had creased the line between her brows was smoothed away. Her head rested gently to one side. Two care workers entered the room. I saw them in my peripheral vision, but I kept my gaze on the old woman.
We're just going to turn her, one of the workers said.
No, I said, my mother is dying.
One of them left to get a nurse, and then the old woman - my dear mother, my little, child-like, beautiful mother - died.
I put my arms round her, kissed her poor, closed eyes and her now relaxed mouth, and held her limp, tiny body, no more struggling for breath.
I watched an old woman die of hunger and thirst. I watched her die for six days and nights. I watched her suffer, and struggle, and hold onto life.
She had not often found life easy, but she had always found it worthwhile. She was 94 years old. She had been born and had lived all her life in Canada. She had worked hard all her life, married, raised three children, voted, paid taxes, saved enough money to buy her own home, obeyed the laws, donated to charity, done volunteer work, paid her bills, and given much love and brought much joy to many, many people in her 94 years.
In return, in the spring of 2009, her son and her eldest daughter, with the permission and assistance of the law, because this old woman had had a mild stroke, refused her food and water. She could not swallow, so she would have needed the food and water administered artificially.
And the youngest daughter could do nothing except watch her mother die slowly, and write this, in the hope that my mother's death, like her life, will have made a difference.
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9 comments:
Ann
I am real sorry to read about this dying of Kate Kelly's mother; I am NOT saying this is a clear case pro euthanasia. I am saying Kelly's mother has been given very bad, insufficient palliative care, where the caregivers used morphine in the wrong way (calculating on the double effect??), causing side effects which resulted in this unwanted outcome: a terrible death!
I am not a fervent supporter of VSED, certainly not in all cases. The person must to begin with have the serious wish him/herself knowing the consequences; (s)he must be nearly moribound, barely be eating and drinking already, before starting the process of VSED at all. And... most important: good professional and competent guidance with optimal palliative care should have been arranged and available day and night.
It is a pity that Alex is using this story as a proof for the dangerous developments in the end-of-life decisions (a n=1 study) and not as a signal that Palliative Care failed in this case and thus that also providers of Palliative Care need education and transparancy.
I know cases (more then one for that) of VSED with late Alzheimer's where the patient received professional Palliative Care with VSED and died quietly and humanely; in a country where through (or at least since) legalisation of euthanasia, Palliative Care has been developed to a very high ranking (both in availablity and in quality) in the world, and where thus all end-of-life decisions (from "let nature take its role" via "palliative care/sedation" to "euthanasia or physician assisted suicide") are mostly seen as an issue to be talked about when appropriate.
Rob reduces the pain of Kate's mothers death to poor palliative care. He is only partly right.
The fact is that to kill someone, who is not otherwise dying by dehydration is euthanasia, does cause an horrific death and should be referred to as elder abuse.
To say that - if we only used the proper amount of morphine everything would be fine - negates the fact that this is not a good death because it requires large amounts of morphine to mask the pain.
This is totally different in a situation where someone is dying and is nearing death, whether it be through cancer or other causes that has led to organ failure.
In those circumstances the body is naturally shutting down and the body has stopped requiring or being able to circulate or absorb the hydration. In this circumstance the natural process of death requires, at some point, that fluids be withdrawn in order to prevent suffering.
Kate Kelly's mother had a mild stroke, she was not otherwise dying, she was not experiencing organ failure, but rather a decision was made, by others, that her life was not worth living.
This also occurs in the Netherlands.
It is with tears and heartache that I read your story. I am so sad and sorry that your mother and you were treated so horribly in the hospital. You see your story is so similar in so many ways to that of our dear dad and our family. I tell our story to anyone who will listen and most times others relate their own eerily similar and tragic story of a loved one. We knew what had happened to our dad and our family was not a unique story, but I had no idea just how often this is happening. So many tragic accounts that I have even considered documenting them.
There is something so corrupt happening and the corruption is resulting in unnecessary death.
My father was labelled with Alzheimers. Although, upon more detailed research, after the fact, we believe he was inaccurately labelled. He had some cognitive impairment. With much time and effort from our family (tireless efforts from my brother) he was actually able to re learn many things. And just months before he had the misfortune of ending up in the hospital he sat in the living room with us and stated “I am just happy to be sitting here with my family”. He was a happy and positive man and loved to connect with people. Quality of life for sure. Quality of life that was stolen from him and our family. He trusted us to take care of him the best we could and we did. But we were not prepared for the onslaught at the hospital and seemed powerless to help him there.
My dad’s story in the hospital is quite lengthy and involved so will not go into detail here.
We firmly believe that they withheld the proper medical care because of his Alzheimer label. That was confirmed to us even more so, once we obtained a copy of his medical file from the hospital. The medical file consisting of pages of notes from doctors and nurses -, purposeful and prejudicial entries with no foundation in truth and also purposeful omissions. Much time spent making notes. Much time… He was denied medical care because of his disability - and as such it would appear he was denied his basic human rights – at least his human rights as they are described in Canada. It is most unlikely that the majority of Alzheimer patients who end up in the hospital for another health issue actually die of Alzheimer’s. And yet it is most likely listed as the cause of death on the death certificate.
There appears to be a serious human rights violation occurring as it relates to disabled Canadians – whether Alzheimer or any other disability. I am not aware of any legislation that allows the removal of those human rights when one enters the hospital.
Kate -Please continue to tell your story about your mom and we will continue to tell ours about our dad. And if we can help even one family from torturous treatment in the hospital and help their loved one to return to their home and be cared for by those who know them best and love them, then we have succeeded – in memory and to the honour of all of those who didn’t make it home.