I agree one hundred percent but I'll tell you... it's a very hard thing to do sitting in one of those ****ing rooms. White on white on white, makes your eyes want to bleed. There are layers of sound... beeps and sighing sounds and machines that breathe... there are tubes and tape and black and blue marks. One of the machines has numbers on it the go down slowly. You hold your breath every time the person laying there inhales and then again, waiting for them to exhale. You can't take your eyes off the lines on the moniters and when the doctors come in to talk to you they do so softly and make you feel like the world is suddenly that little room and the conversation they are having with you is one they've never had to do before.
Honestly I made the decision before the room, before the doctor with the soft voice, before the nurse came in to close the blinds (I made her open them. Why would my sister want to die in darkness? **** that, there were seagulls outside. She would have told them to open the damned things up so I did it since she couldn't).
I can still see every second of it in my head.
I had six months to know it was coming and I have grown to appreciate that rather then to resent it. It is not enough time BUT it is so much more than so many get.
So I read something like what this poor family is going through and my reason agrees with you completely BUT if I were that poor girls mother?
Yeah... it's one thing to say if someone is brain dead they are (rightly) dead and another to be in that room.
As much as I don't want to admit it I might be doing the same thing.
I hope the family gains whatever it is they need for the courage to let her go. I hope they can find acceptance with grace and give each other comfort and get through what I'd imagine is the hardest thing they will ever have to do in their lives.
Poor baby girl.
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