a record of suffering ...

... in her own dear hand - she kept a record of her doses of painkillers she took (this was still at home) - this page is from just before her final hospitalization, which was then followed by the unadmitted euthanasia at the hospice - where they started to pump her full with morphine as soon as she was transferred from the hospital, pretending that it was only to alleviate pain. Of course, otherwise her suffering would only have been extended - but one could argue about the morality of doing this clandestinely, as I saw it, anyway. But she kept this record herself (as scanned here), before all control was taken away from her. It is horrible to think what may have been on her mind each time she entered the latest record on this sheet. A terrible memory related to the above is that the last time I managed to talk to her briefly was when she urgently called me on her mobile phone from hospital to tell me that they were just taking her over to the hospice. Looking back, it was like the last hopeless cry for help or farewell before being tossed into the bottomless dark precipice. Just remembering this last ever phone call from my treasured wife, I can hardly keep myself together. By the time they allowed me in not long after the call to see her at the hospice, they had just given her a big dose of morphine, and from then on I could never really talk WITH her again (I kept visiting to the ultimate day) - I talked TO her, but she couldn't respond, as she was tranquilized so severely. In the end, I am convinced, it was the morphine that stopped her dear heart at about 3 a.m. on the 7th of September, 2021. Someone might call it mercy killing, but if this is what mercy is, my heart cannot accept it, even if reason might have an acceptable case.