Last Right
Early 2001, Virginia
By Carrie Carmichael
Last fall, a friend asked if she could jump out my 11th-floor window.
She had esophageal cancer and was planning ahead. If the chemotherapy didn’t shrink her tumor, and if surgery didn’t offer her continued life, she wanted something “swift and certain.”
Pills wouldn’t be an option if she couldn’t swallow anymore. She didn’t have a doctor to assist her dying, so injectable morphine would be harder to get.
Five years ago, she was hit by a vehicle in Mexico. “The impact didn’t hurt,” she told me, and she figured that hitting the ground wouldn’t either.
We had been very close for decades and shared the major events of adult life: children’s births, divorce, career crises. Nursing her husband through his protracted death from colon cancer had galvanized her. She did not want to hang on to life after the prognosis was hopeless and her pain became unrelenting.
We had just sat down to a lunch I had made for us when she asked. She wanted to jump out my window because she lived in a brownstone. Her chemo-necessitated wig, picked up that morning at a shop in my neighborhood, sobered me. This was not one of our hypothetical suicide conversations - this one was real. It took my breath away.
I put down my fork and said, “Let’s take a look.”
My bedrooms and living room look out on West 72nd Street. In the master bedroom, I threw up the sash. A sidewalk covering that was in place during some building restoration had just been removed. She was glad it was gone, she said. Nothing to break her fall. But nothing to protect pedestrians either.
“You couldn’t be in the apartment,” she ordered. “The doorman would see you leave. I would have to be here alone.” She didn’t want me suspected of criminal behavior.
“We’ll see what the chemo does,” I said. “And then we’ll talk more.” I was devastated that a woman I loved was threatened with imminent death. I wanted to be a good friend, but asking me to help her commit suicide changed everything.
After she left, I had second thoughts about my swift acquiescence. This was hardly a casual request. Could I sleep in my room after my friend plunged to her death from my window? Could I enter and leave passing the place where her crumpled body had lain? Which of my neighbors, which of the toddlers in strollers and kids on scooters, would see her fall?
On the phone a few days later, when I told her that I was waffling, she said just having the offer was comforting. She felt calmer. We talked about other tall buildings with windows that open, as well as other options. Neither of us had experience with pills, injectable drugs, or morphine suppositories. Nor did we know how much help she might need with any of them.
A few months passed, and her life shrank. She moved south to live with her daughter’s family. She slept much of the time, she was racked with coughing, and she was in more and more pain.
My friend felt that as long as her pleasure in life was greater than her pain, she would choose to live. But she didn’t want to wait until she didn’t have the strength to take her own life.
In February, I traveled to see her for what I knew would be the last time. “I’ve found a hotel with balconies,” she told me during my visit. “Will you drive me there?” And I agreed. Since her family would inherit her estate, she didn’t want them accused of hastening her death.
On the day we chose, her bag was packed, and she was ready to go. As I drove onto the block, her daughter and family were saying good-bye.
After they pulled away, we walked to the car. I opened the door for her. We put our seatbelts on. When we pulled up at the hotel, with the car in park, we hugged and exchanged I love yous.
“If you change your mind, just call,” I reminded her. We wept, and she waved good-bye as I turned and left. The ordinary act of dropping off a friend at a hotel was made extraordinary by her intention.
I was the last person who loved her to see her alive.
When her friends heard how she had taken her own life, reaction was mixed. Shock at her method. Admiration of her courage. How could she do that? What a legacy for her family. Thoughtless. Why didn’t she cut her wrists in a warm bath? Why didn’t somebody duct-tape her to her bed and find a better way?
I kept quiet.
For my own part, I have asked myself why I did what I did. I didn’t want to let her down. Although I gave her permission to take her own life, I feel guilty that I did not find an easier way for her to die.
At the same time, I’m angry that she didn’t use a gentler method, one with a more peaceful end. Something easier for her. Something much easier for me.
So far, no punishments. No rewards. But I am haunted. I’m not at peace. Will I ever be?
I know my friend is where she wanted to be, on her own terms. She had the right to take her own life, and her loved ones were right to help her, but there should have been a better way. I am left with the legacy of my friend’s desperation and the prospect of my own.
Carrie Carmichael is a writer and performer living in New York. This story first appeared in The New York Times Sunday Magazine on May 20, 2001.
Posted by Elizabeth Armstrong Moore on Monday, July 16th, 2007 | Email This PostThis entry was posted on Monday, July 16th, 2007 at 12:02 am. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.
19 Responses to “Last Right”
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July 16th, 2007 at 6:49 am
Carrie, you really should be haunted — there is so much wrong with your part in your friend’s suicide, that it suggests extreme moral vacancy. Your story really makes me gag with sorrow and sickness.
July 16th, 2007 at 9:41 am
I disagree with Shawna. That Carrie was able to risk her own peace of mind to help a friend go the way she wanted to go demonstrates incredible fortitude, in my opinion. She must live with this conflict for the rest of her life; isn’t that haunting enough?
July 16th, 2007 at 10:25 am
I understand Rachel’s point of view, but having lost my sister to a horrible suicide, I would wish that Carrie would think ahead to the people that had to find the broken, destroyed body of her friend and who have rights and feelings too. The cost to families and bystanders of dealing with a traumatic suicide is a high one to have to pay.
July 16th, 2007 at 11:30 am
It amazes me how quick we are to judge another’s actions. Publishing this story is an incredible act of courage. Whether the actual suicide was right or wrong, or Carrie’s part was right or wrong is not for us to judge.
The story is painful and it takes me, and possibly others to an uncomfortable place. Still, real life is not tidy, nor does it always have a happy ending. A woman died on her own terms. Another has to live with the pain and knowledge for the rest of her days. In a perfect world, this would not have had to happen. In our imperfect world, we are all human and we make decisions the best we can.
Thank you for the story, Carrie.
July 16th, 2007 at 12:51 pm
I agree with Rachel. I can’t imagine coopoerating in this ghastly adventure, and probably an assisted suicide by injection would have been available, but Carrie honored her friend’s wishes, and I think that is walking high on the moral road.
July 17th, 2007 at 5:25 am
I understand the way that Carrie felt. I lost my father on July 1st to emphysema. He had a living will which prevented any life support. However, shortly before he died he started having seizures. They gave me a choice, a shot to stop the seizures which could also stop his breathing completely, or do nothing and hold on a little longer. I opted for the shot. I have second guessed my decision a million times, and cried many tears. But the fact is I guess I was weak, I could not watch him suffer, and I knew the shot would ease his pain.
So, Carrie, I respect your decision. In the end the choice was your friends, and as it was her life it should have been her decision in the end.
July 17th, 2007 at 11:04 am
This story made me sick to my stomach, and I’m both amazed and ashamed to see that it was published. I lost my father to suicide last year at age 49 and know first-hand the trauma and pain that goes with mental illness and depression. There is no courage in anyone that decides to shed innocent blood, their own or otherwise. To imply such is an utter devaluation of life. Is this what our culture has come to, believing that life only has value when it is wanted? While suicidal thoughts and depression may seek to tell us that we’re alone or that our actions won’t affect those around us, nothing could be further from the truth. We all have parents, or friends, or children, and if none of those…we have the readers of our blogs and the innocent bystanders traumatized by a jumper or the investigating police officer, and the list goes on. We’re never alone or completely isolated. TRUE courage is never giving up the fight. It is recognizing the dignity and value of our lives, even in the midst of tremendous pain, and inspiring others through our resilience. Naming this article “Last Right” is the biggest fallacy of it all, and a tragic disservice to this poor friend who lost her life. Our country was founded on the principle that all have been endowed by their Creator with unalienable rights. One of them is life. It is what we all deserve. It is what we all must protect. Not with the exception of when it is unwanted or tough, but rather, ESPECIALLY so in these times. This is the very nature of charity and the very purest of love, comforting the suffering and helping them find joy and meaning in life. And in that, there is true courage.
July 17th, 2007 at 11:37 am
Very poignant story, and I can see why it’s controversial. Carrie, did you receive feedback on this when it first ran in The New York Times in 2001?
July 25th, 2007 at 9:40 pm
People,people leave Carrie alone.The reason I say this is that she will have to live with her actions.
I’d like to also mention that suicide is a verry selfish act that someone will do to themselves,without regard for anyone else.
In my time on the planet I have made several suicide attempts my self.Fortunaly for me I had failed at my attempts. I now know that a suicide is a permnate answer to a tempory problem.It does not mean if I go off my meds that I would get suicidal again.
Carrie,thank you for shareing your story,thank your for haveing the courage to share it.
God Bless every one who writes for common ties,that includes the people that leave comments as well as the writers that have submitted their stories good, bad or indiferent.
The reason I say this,I turned 55 this year,I have been sober almost 17 years,I have been married to my second wife for 27 years.These are some of the things that I’m greatful for.Mike G.
August 15th, 2007 at 10:04 pm
“walk a mile in my shoes” - in a humaine society - when life support & drugs extend a persons life way beyond the individuals personal choice & quality is just a word. . . shouldn’t we be allowed to decide for ourselves when its time to let go & say our goodbyes.
i am 43 yrs old - enjoy my life. 3 boys, a loving husband & 3 grandkids - one more on the way. i also have parkinsons. i think about how i’ll leave this world. i want to leave with dignity - with assistance, there would be no one that would have to “find” my body. i don’t know what the future holds - but i do know this - you helped a couragous woman who loved life to end it her way. . . i hope that if that time comes for me i have someone in my life that loves me that much. . . i hope you find peace . . .i know your friend did.
September 16th, 2007 at 9:25 am
i just read the story, pretty cool.
i have to write a narrative on it now.
March 27th, 2008 at 1:17 pm
MY HTOUGHT ON THIS IS THAT YOU ARE THE DEFINITION OF WHAT A TRUE FRIEND IS A SISTER THAT JUST HAPPEN TO NOT BE BLESSED WITH THE SAME BLOOD LINE.I BELIEVE YOUR FRIEND WILL AND IS RESTING IN PEACE AND YOU WILL FIND PEACE WHEN YOU KNOW THAT YOU EXIHIBITED PURE UNTOUCHED LOVE……MAY PEACE LYE IN YOUR HEART…
April 6th, 2008 at 11:48 am
What an incredible sacrifice you’ve made, in order to secure your friend’s final wishes. Perhaps the most difficult aspect of the common “a permanent end to a temporary solution” quip, would be its insensitivity to the varying reality of each human existence. Just as I admire those who find some repository of strength which allows them to continue functioning and living, I also recognize that it isn’t always possible for everyone to “overcome.” And it isn’t anyone’s right to judge whether or not it was possible for someone to continue in his or her pain, because that pain is entirely unique to each life.
It seems like your friend had it exactly right. What an incredible, brave woman. She apparently gleaned all that she possibly could from her life, until it was no longer possible, and still managed to die on her own terms.
April 7th, 2008 at 11:33 am
i think it took extreme courage to do what you did,and almost as much courage to publish this.i got chills reading this and i hope someday to have a friend like you.
April 11th, 2008 at 2:08 pm
I hope that one day, we will legally have more choices. With all the medical advancements in the US, we should all be able to choose a doctor-assisted suicide.
May 3rd, 2008 at 1:07 pm
Carrie, I admire your desire to help your friend.
When animals are sick and in pain and we know they cannot be helped, we euthanize them. When humans are sick and in pain and we know they cannot be helped, we force them to suffer. We treat our animals better than we treat each other, and that is horrible. Carrie’s friend was in pain and had no hope of recovery. Helping her end her life in whatever manner she deemed fit was the brave and KIND thing to do.
You may not agree with the way Carrie’s friend took her life, you may not have done what Carrie did, but please open your minds and at least try to understand the reasoning behind it. “Judge not, lest ye be judged.”
July 8th, 2008 at 4:56 pm
Rights to live, what about to die?
Her friend confided in her, and trusted her enough with her wishes. I think that says alot about how she viewed her as friend. Would you really preffer that a loved one be reduced to a skeleton and be in a monumental amount of pain up until the end?
She did a brave thing, supporting her friend. I think it takes alot of guts to do something like that.
July 9th, 2008 at 12:11 pm
Well said Nari. A right to do what we will, yes?
We were all given free will.
August 21st, 2008 at 8:48 pm
While I agree that suicide is an utterly selfish act, I think that some of the other readers missed the point that this was not a suicide inspired by depression or desolation. This woman was going to die either a long painful death from the cancer, or by her own terms.
I have had several friends who have attempted suicide. Some were “successful.” I have seen the pain in the eyes of their mothers and have myself felt lost and desperate at the mere thought of their feelings of loss and desperation.
This is not a story of a suicide. It is a potent call to re-open the debate on euthanasia. If she had had access to morphine there would have been no traumatized passers by or crime scene investigators. Anyone who has ever had a pet knows that there is a time when it is best to just ease the pain and end the suffering. Why can’t we exhibit the same care for our families and friends?
I am touched by the beauty, compassion, courage, and humanity expressed in this story. May we all find peace both in this life and the next.