Ever since my youth I have proclaimed loudly that I'm not afraid of dying. Recently I realized how wrong I was; I'm not afraid of death, but I am afraid of dying. When we have a pet that is suffering, we take it to the vet to have it "put down." Even a murderer on Death Row gets a merciful death. Why must humans suffer when there is no hope of recovery?

Oregon is the only state sanctioning physicians' help in suicide for terminally ill patients. In the eight years since this became legal, fewer than 250 people have used the law. The rest of the populace takes comfort in knowing that they have a choice.

On May 19, my oldest daughter June, then 71, had surgery for a brain tumor called glioblastoma multiforme (grade 4), a deadly malignancy with a prognosis of 4 to 6 months without treatment. Chemotherapy makes the patient so sick that the few extra months gained are not worth it. My daughter opted not to have treatment.

During the weeks she lived with me I made her life as easy as possible. However, when the hospice nurse told her new tumors had developed on the back of her neck, she lost control. She began over-medicating, falling and hurting herself. Breaking my promise to her that she could stay with me until she died, we moved her into a nursing home.

She received good care there, even remarking, "Everyone here is so kind to me." Her one complaint was the institutional food. When we learned that we could sign her out for a few hours daily, her son, her daughter and I took turns treating her to lunch in good local restaurants. She enjoyed this so much that I thought, "No one looking at us laughing and joking would dream that one of us is dying of brain cancer."

Then overnight she became bedridden, able only to babble, frustrated because she couldn't express her thoughts. She slipped in and out of a coma. When we spoke to her she screwed up her face, crying without tears. She mumbled only two intelligible sentences during those weeks: "Why does it take so long?" and, "I didn't know it would be so hard."

Now we are praying for her to die. When the hospice nurse suggested tube feeding because she wasn't eating, we said, "Absolutely not! She doesn't want to live." A morphine patch was placed on her chest to prevent pain. The strain on family members was almost unbearable; we could only stand by and watch her suffer. If we had tried to help her die, we would be breaking the law and probably go to prison. June had a Living Will and a "Do Not Resuscitate" order. She expressed her wishes while she was still lucid, but that doesn't help us to help her.

Our family is fortunate there is MediCal. We don't have to pay, as June has no funds and no long-term care insurance. Neither her son, her daughter, nor I could afford $128 a day for her care—who knows for how long. Luckily for us, the state picks up the tab. Think of the cost to you, the taxpayer! There are thousands of patients rotting away in nursing homes and hospitals in California with no hope of release except death. HMOs pay only a small part of the cost.

My 74-year-old father ended a miserable existence by climbing the George Washington Bridge and dropping over the side, to be smashed on the pavement. Nobody deserves such a death. Why couldn't he die peacefully with a doctor's help?

In the past several years California has tried to pass a law similar to Oregon's. The attempt failed, due to fears of euthanasia, etc. Don't these people who vote against the law realize that some day their loved ones—or they themselves--might welcome the release such a law can provide? No one should have to choose an end like my father's or my daughter's. Death is inevitable—let’s make it easier for those who want help.