I replied, “Well, at least he still has all his mental faculties, and will have them until the end.”
“But I wouldn't want to know what was happening if that was me,” my husband said. “I'd rather just be out of it.”
I was taken aback. I always assumed that my husband, with his active mind, would feel the same way I did about any kind of mental deterioration. But it turns out that while one of my greatest fears is Alzheimer's Disease, his is any kind of disease that removes your ability to walk, talk and hold utensils.
I thought for a while about the difference in our outlooks. We both have very active minds. Granted, he said that his stint as a lifeguard when he was a teenager at a beach for handicapped people had an impact on him. Multiple Sclerosis was always one of his fears. I, on the other hand, was so calm during my MS diagnosis that a nurse corralled him in the hall and asked, “Is she all right? She's taking this too well.”
But here's the thing – after suffering from major depression, I am not frightened by anything that attacks my body, as long as it isn't terminal, of course. I'm not sure how I would handle that. But my mind betrayed me when I was depressed, and it's much harder to separate yourself from that than from a physical disability. I never, ever want to go back to that place where I wasn't in control of my mind. It may be hard to believe if you haven't been depressed, but after that, handling my Multiple Sclerosis diagnosis was a piece of cake.
I don't know how Stephen would have preferred to die, by losing his mind or his body. We never had that conversation before his diagnosis, and it seemed irrelevant to have it afterward. I hope, like me, he would rather end his life this way, with his mind intact, than by losing it.
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Kurt Vonnegut's Battle With Depression





















