ULTIMATE CRUELTY TO COME BETWEEN THE TERMINALLY ILL AND THEIR DEATHS

Why, in this time of national fear and unease, would Attorney General John
Ashcroft go after Oregon physicians who prescribe lethal drugs for
terminally ill patients?

Oregon's Death With Dignity Act, which allows physician-assisted dying, has
been in place since 1997 and has resulted in one major surprise: In four
years, only about 70 terminally ill people took advantage of the new law.
In addition, all of the deaths went without a hitch. With one exception,
there was no nausea or vomiting as a result of the large doses of
medication required to end life. And few of those who chose a physician's
help in dying died alone.

Proponents of the initiative never thought there'd be a stampede of people
rushing to die, although opponents predicted one. Most people cling to
life, even if they're suffering. But if that is so, what's the point? Why
fight so hard for legislation, why spend so much time and money to benefit
so few?

The answer can be found among those who chose not to die with assistance,
like Ray Frank, a 56-year-old computer programmer who suffered terminal
kidney and lung cancer. When his pain became intolerable, Frank asked his
doctors if he would qualify legally (Oregon's law has many safeguards) for
assistance in dying. When his doctors told him that even if he were
eligible they would not help him (which is their right), Frank panicked and
asked a friend to buy him a shotgun, planning to use it as soon as he got
home from the hospital. Instead, the friend contacted Compassion in Dying,
an organization that helps terminally ill people who want a hastened death,
and it referred Frank to a doctor who both treated his symptoms and helped
him apply to die with assistance. As a result, Frank's anxiety was so
relieved that he never bought the gun, never spoke of assisted suicide
again and died naturally within the two-week waiting period the law requires.

There's no way to statistically measure peace of mind, no way to quantify
the death of terror. But here's a guess: For every one of the 70 terminally
ill patients in Oregon who died with assistance from a physician,
thousands, perhaps tens of thousands, have had their fears quieted, just
knowing that such assistance would be there if they wanted it.

Studies have shown that, when asked, people express far more fear of
suffering at the end of life than they do about dying. With reason. Medical
technology, dazzling though it is, often prolongs life cruelly. And many
physicians hate to "give up" on a patient and often continue to "fight" the
disease mindlessly, without regard for the patient's suffering or wishes.
Often patients feel locked in life. They don't necessarily want out, but
they want to know where the key is.

I saw this firsthand about the time I helped my own mother die. When she
knew I had found a way out for her, a calm came over her that was almost
weird. Her sister, who didn't know she was plotting to die, thought she was
recovering from her illness. "Your mother seems so well," she said to me.
"Can she be getting better?"

In a way, yes, I could have replied. Because she had become herself again.
With terror gone, in spite of her suffering, she was her old, in-control
self. I could tell because she immediately began bossing me around.

"Go into my closet," she said hours before she swallowed a lethal dose of
barbiturates, "there's a hat from Bloomingdale's I forgot to return. So
don't forget to return it."

At the time I had no idea of what to make of this. I remember thinking:
She's so alive; how could she want to die? As she began to count the pills,
I asked her, my voice trembling, if she was sure she wanted to go through
with it. She looked at me as if I had lost my mind.

"Next to the happiness of my children," she said, "I want to die more than
anything else in the world."

My mother died peacefully, gracefully, gratefully. But I know from having
watched her that what mattered most was knowing she could die. Knowing she
was calling the shots again, that her death would be like her life. It was
her last wish. And she got it.

Have we Americans ever felt less in control than we do now? But there is
one state -- Oregon -- where people have a small amount of control over one
aspect of their lives: their deaths. It seems an especially cruel and
inappropriate time to attempt to wrest that away from them.