These mortal coils

TAKING our beloved Jack Russell terrier, Puffin, for a walk in a nearby park recently, I saw him chase a squirrel up a tree.

There was a time when he would jump nearly four feet high against the trunk in his frustration. But now, he merely placed his front paws against the tree and barked angrily. I felt sorry for him, and wanted to reassure him by saying that he is now 12 years old, and that makes him around 84 in terms of human age.

So while he remains very fit for his age, he has definitely slowed down. I can empathise: watching elderly people in mobility chairs, or walking with the help of sticks and Zimmer-frames, I find myself thinking that in a few years, that’s going to be my fate.

Old age is a cruel thing: having watched people close to me stripped of their mobility and dignity by their years, I dread the day when the body no longer responds as it once did. Already, my dependence on Google to find names and dates is becoming alarming. And I occasionally suffer the acute embarrassment of forgetting names of people I know, and want to introduce to others at a party.

Late nights, too, are things that were once routine, but are now avoided. I also hate restaurants where loud ambient chatter from surrounding tables makes conversation impossible for my fading hearing. In fact, the list of things that made up much of my misspent youth but I no longer indulge in is long and depressing.

When I meet old friends, conversation tends to revolve around symptoms and medical news. My inbox regularly receives reports of health breakthroughs and miracle cures for age-related problems. I am fascinated by the research being done to extend lifespans.

Longevity has come at a cost for individuals as well as for society.
And yet, I am unconvinced about the quality of life after a certain point: if one is dependent on others for basic needs, is there any joie de vivre — or joy of living — left? Surely, an individual should have the right to decide when he should check out. However, most societies deem this illegal, although I’m not sure why.

Dignitas is a Swiss organisation where you can arrive if you have had enough, and the staff there helps relieve you of the burden of life. But no other country I know is similarly liberal. In England, there has been an ongoing debate over the right of terminally ill people who are in pain to take their own lives, or simply not extend them by medical means.

Some years ago, I watched helplessly as somebody very close to me was kept alive for a fortnight on life support, without a chance of survival. When family members begged the doctors to end his agony and pull out the tubes keeping him alive, they said their ethical responsibility did not permit them to do so.

In such situations — often prolonged and extremely painful — family members as well as patients are put through unnecessary grief.

Surely if there is no relief in sight, and no medical solution possible, doctors and society at large can take a generous view, and not prolong the pain.

This is a difficult conversation to have, and we in South Asia generally try and avoid it. Life is a gift, and we are not supposed to take it.

When the major faiths were revealed centuries ago, lifespans were generally cut short by warfare, common diseases and failing organs. But now, a wide range of medical interventions and innovations have extended our lives by decades. In most Wes*tern societies, many live well into their 80s.

However, this longevity has come at a cost for individuals as well as for society. Although elderly people are kept alive for longer by medication and operations, the quality of their lives is often compromised. And industrialised countries have to spend increasing amounts on healthcare to cater for this ageing population. Britain is already spending over £10 billion on caring for the elderly.

Now, as certain cancers can be treated after recent breakthroughs, and organs could be cloned in labs, life can be extended dramatically. But these techniques are very expensive, and it is likely that they will only be available to those who can afford them. So mankind will soon evolve into two groups: the rich who can expect to be productive and relatively healthy when they are well over 100, and the majority who shuffle off these mortal coils decades earlier.

But while we can talk rationally about choosing the moment of exit, the truth is that most would prefer to live every moment, even if they believe in an afterlife. Of course this belief makes it easier to face death when it comes.

As for me, I would be very happy if I am half as fit at 84 — should I get there — as our Puffin is now.

irfan.husain@gmail.com

Published in Dawn, June 13th, 2015