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The Right to Assisted Suicide

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Imagine for a moment one morning you woke up not feeling quite yourself, you have a really high fever and your back and feet hurt in such a way you can barely catch your breath, something that has become more pronounced and refuses to be ignored. You call you family doctor up and make an appointment to go in and get his opinion on what could be wrong with you. The doctor asks you some rather routine questions, pokes and prods at you, takes several samples of your blood and sends them off to be tested, advising you that he will call you as soon as the results are back. A week and a half goes by and finally you get the call you have been looking forward to and dreading at the same time. The doctor asks you to come to his office because he would like to discuss his findings with you in person. You find yourself in the doctors’ office sitting on that stiff leather couch across from the doctor who seems a bit uncomfortable as though he is not quite sure if he should look you in the eye or at the wall over your shoulder. In a very low and calm voice he breaks it to you and tells you that your blood tested positive for a very bad terminal illness where life as you know it would change as this illness progressed. You would become more and more dependent on others such as your family as this illness took hold of you. You would go from being able to do the seemingly simple things you find you always took for granted without even realizing it like walking under you own steam, bathing

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