At its core, perhaps we can say death is two things: what it means to the person who dies, and what it means to the people who will remember. Two days ago in Austin, Texas, a young student, 20-year-old Richard Truong, died. Not particularly quickly, not particularly painlessly, but by his own hand. He had followed the fad for “chemical suicide” – a method of producing hydrogen sulphide gas by mixing household chemicals. This rather extreme example is used to highlight the often complexity of self-dying, and is not as unrelated to the peaceful exit approach favoured by followers of this website as it might at first seem.
“This is not an uncommon method of chemical suicide,” said the attending fire chief. “You can search on the internet to see some of the different ways this is done.” As he died, Richard also hospitalised six other people injured by the fumes and a further five that needed treatment for exposure to the gas. As he was in the process of cardiac arrest as emergency services arrived, it can reasonably be assumed that he didn’t get the mixture ‘quite right’ or experience the instant ‘knock-down effect’ for which he had hoped. It is likely that he suffered.
A ‘good death’ is sometimes described under three headings. One is CLINICAL: that the death is swift and relatively pain-free. Another is CLOSURE, which relates to the person’s relationships with others. A third is PERSONAL CONTROL — control of what is happening and maybe also being able to communicate before dying.
Someone who dies as a result of sudden depression, as it seems Richard may indeed have, most likely has not experienced closure. There are many things one might wish would have happened. One cannot imagine the pain now that his family must be experiencing. But Richard’s death is a lesson to all of us in terms of closure. In whatever way one dies, one’s death is a statement of one’s life. It is worth getting things right: the right time and the right way. It will mean something to somebody.
Seeing things ‘with a second pair of eyes’ can also be enlightening. Not just for the memory one creates but to see oneself as if as another person who is looking on. Was he or she getting things ‘right’? Taking care enough to plan properly? To focus enough, in the last statement of life itself, to do one’s best?
Last year, there was a panic over helium supplies. The situation seems now more or less stabilised (we are preparing an update for our print magazine and later for this Blog); yet in the interval we have seen a rush to seek out drugs which the movement had once discarded as dangerous, or a rush to recommend drugs that require great care.
People sometimes write to Exit and say, “You seem to recommend this, but someone else recommends something else: which is right?” All we say is, please examine the evidence. If you genuinely need this information to prepare for an unknown future, to give you courage to face a terminal illness, or have reached extreme old age, then there is time to consider options. There is time to look at evidence.
There is time to be as sure as you can possibly be.
Although a painless death is sometimes possible, Exit does not recommend it. A report of a failed hydrogen sulphide attempt is reported here, and the science discussed in our publications and briefly elsewhere on this Blog. 1,2,3.
A good death
Research on the factors considered to be important in a good death are examined in a study that can be found here.
Methods of self-euthanasia
are detailed with extensive analysis and supporting evidence in our publications (see side-bar, Amazon or good bookshops). Exit does not give one-to-one advice on methods of suicide by phone, letter or email, or in any manner outside of its publications, members’ magazine and occasional full-day workshops.
John William Waterhouse [Public domain]. Sleep and his Half-brother Death is a painting by John William Waterhouse completed in 1874. It was painted after both his younger brothers died of tuberculosis.