When psychologist Sandy Bem found out she had Alzheimer’s, she made a decision: before the disease stole her mind, she would kill herself. The only question was when?
A month before her 65th birthday, Sandy Bem, a psychologist and professor at Cornell University (USA), sat at home and watched a documentary about Alzheimer’s disease. By that time, she had already experienced “oddities of the mind,” as she called them, for two years: she forgot the names of things, confused words with a similar sound. One day she brought a bag of plums home, took one out in the kitchen and asked her friend: “Is this a plum? I feel like I know, but I’m not completely sure.”
As she watched the movie, her pulse quickened as the woman on the screen was taking a memory test. Sandy also decided to go through it. Listen to three words, the host said, write any sentence and then try to remember these three words. Sandy heard the words: apple, table, coin. She wrote a short sentence: “I was born in Pittsburgh.” She spoke out loud the words she could remember: an apple, a coin… A simple memory test, but she couldn’t pass it..
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The doctor, to whom Sandy went with her husband, made a preliminary diagnosis: amnestic syndrome. She was delighted, but the doctor explained: “There is nothing to rejoice at, in most patients with such a diagnosis, the disease progresses to Alzheimer’s disease within ten years.”
Sobbing, Sandy left the office. She told her husband about the diagnosis and what she had to do. Dementia, the prospect of becoming an empty shell without memory, reason, no longer feel like a person, horrified her, and at the same time she felt fury, realizing her powerlessness. That day at the clinic, she vowed that she would find a way to end her life before her illness did. The thought of losing her mind in the future was also unbearable for Sandy because she was engaged in science and her self-image was inextricably linked to her ability to think deeply and unconventionally. As a psychologist, she was one of the pioneers in the study of gender.
“I want to live only as long as I remain myself”, she confessed to another doctor, leading dementia specialist Charles Duffy, to whom she came to clarify the diagnosis.
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To her surprise, Duffy shared his story with her. His mother also had Alzheimer’s, and the time spent caring for her, watching a loved one fade away, had a profound effect on him, shaping him as a doctor, researcher, and man. He said that Sandy, with her analytical mind, clear and direct nature, could greatly help the world in the study of this disease – just “living” it, giving others an idea of uXNUMXbuXNUMXbwhat it is. Sandy was touched: she had heard similar stories about people who watched their loved ones fade away, or those who went through this decline themselves and were surprised to find dignity, beauty and grace in this zen existence in the eternal present, softening the sharp corners, joy from the simplest things in life. At the same time, Sandy understood that this occupation was not for her.
Over the next few weeks, she alerted family (adult children, son and daughter, in their thirties) and close friends of her decision and her desire to end her life before she was unable to do so. The news was shocking, but everyone knew her direct and decisive nature, so they did not dissuade, they only asked them to promise that she would not use the “bloody” method: shoot a gun or jump from a bridge into one of the most beautiful waterfalls that their home state is famous for. Sandy considered both options, but ended up writing in her diary that she wanted to die in a peaceful, non-violent way.
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From books on euthanasia, she learned about a drug that veterinarians use to put animals to sleep. It is also applied to humans in the event of euthanasia, if permitted by state law. After studying the question, Sandy came to the conclusion that this is what she needs. The medicine was reliable, fast-acting and – most importantly for her – allowed her to die with dignity, without suffering. It causes a rapid but not sudden loss of consciousness and then gradual cardiac arrest. In her state, the sale of the product without a prescription was prohibited, so Sandy ordered it abroad. It was delivered a few weeks later.
Now that the “how” question had been resolved, the more difficult question of “when” had to be resolved.
Sandy knew that Alzheimer’s disease is predictable – the initial stage (a person often loses things, puts them in the wrong places, repeats questions) passes into the middle (inability to learn new skills, loss of orientation in space, unrecognition of loved ones) and, finally, into the most difficult (loss of speech, swallowing functions, inability to take care of oneself, perform simple actions). She wanted to live the rest of the time as fully as possible in terms of intellectual and emotional life, but she did not want to miss the moment when she could no longer be responsible for herself.
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Five years have passed since the first visit to the doctor. Despite the fact that Sandy took the latest generation of drugs, her cognitive abilities by this time were greatly weakened. When her beloved little sister Bev arrived from Oregon, Sandy could not understand how they could have common parents. Many classes, including playing the piano, were given more and more difficult: every day Sandy learned a simple etude, but the next day she forgot, and had to start over. Then her memory stopped holding information even for a short time. Sandy could no longer use her smartphone and watch movies with complex plots. She only enjoyed the movie Mary Poppins. She still enjoyed playing with her little grandson, enjoyed working in the garden, but she could no longer do what gave her strength and desire to live – science.
One evening in April, Sandy suddenly said to her husband at dinner for no reason: “You’re so smart.” “Am I smart or are you getting stupid so I look smart to you?” Daryl asked with a smile, hoping that Sandy’s sense of humor hadn’t changed. She laughed, “I think you’re smart.” But she told him that she felt she was slipping more and more and would like to set a date for her death. They looked at the calendar and chose a date: Tuesday, May 20th. Notifying those closest to her, Sandy wrote a short suicide note so that no one would be blamed for her death.
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On Tuesday, May 20, she and her husband went for a long walk. We came back and watched Mary Poppins. Around 17.30:XNUMX pm, Sandy took anti-emetics and poured herself a glass of wine: she had read that wine speeds up the action of the drug and mutes its bitter taste. They went up to the bedroom, she climbed into bed and looked at the two glasses on the nightstand. “Which one has wine?” “The medicine is clear, but the wine is red,” Daryl said. Sandy nodded, looked around the room, and looked back at the glasses. She asked which wine and which medicine. Daryl told her again.
She drank the medicine. My husband asked if it tasted bad. No, she said. – The taste is pronounced, but not bitter. It wasn’t hard for me.” She sipped the wine. “I need to go to the toilet”. He escorted her to the bathroom and sat down near the door, behind which was his dying wife.
He helped Sandy back into bed, and five minutes later she passed out. Daryl stood by the bed and looked at his wife. Around 20.30:XNUMX pm, he called Bev, and she came to stay with him at his sister’s bedside. They sat quietly, watching the veil rise and fall with each breath. Over the course of an hour, the blanket rose and fell more and more slowly. Then the movement stopped.
See more at The New York Times.