On youth-in-asia?

Our Mago, Gammie, Gerdie, Gertrude Kreigh Ryan died in Menlo Park, California, in the early spring of 1977, just before her 91st birthday.
Official cause of death: drug poisoning, an ill-fated mixture of medicines, separately prescribed to treat what may have been symptoms of an undiagnosed pancreatic cancer. I am told that just prior to her death she pulled out the intravenous feeding line and the oxygen tubing and said: “If this is what’s necessary to keep me alive, then I’m not for it.”

That night I dreamt that Mago had called us all to her bedside. She sat up with her unwieldy grey mane sprawled over and above delicate deaf ears. And there was that huge, familiar horse- tooth smile, likewise the ever-present twinkling of eternity in her big black-brown eyes. She was holding audience for the first and last time in her life, in a hospital room. As she waved to us all to have a seat, I noticed her bony index finger pointing toward the Duralex glass on her bedside table. She would drink, but not yet.
First she wanted to thank us all for coming, emphasizing how humbled and happy she was that we all could be there. Then nothing she said could be a surprise any more. “My father time has come with his scythe and wants to take me home to his pig farm in Indiana. I’m gonna surprise him though, gonna put on my slippers now and shuffle off the diving board. When he comes you can tell him I’ve already jumped off the deep end, into the deep blue waters of the San Francisco Bay, that there’s no point in lookin after me, cause I'll be sunk like a rock to the bottom.”
She then picked up a little foil packet and sprinkled its content into her glass. I knew then that the water in her glass wasn’t as fresh and pure as it appeared. It seemed clear enough, but became saturated with cowbane as the flakes fell like snow on wet Stockholm streets at this time of year, I recognized the bulk medium, the tiny seed-coats that can absorb so much moisture. You had to swallow it fast before it solidified. I knew that Mago would therefore empty the glass immediately, in one fell swoop, and so I left the room alone.
I took a seat in the corridor of the hospital and waited. After a few minutes the doctor came out to inform me that you had passed.

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Apropå den svenska debatten om aktiv dödshjälp i livets slutskede, undrar jag varför Sverige inte uppmuntrar något som i USA kallas "Medical Power of Attorney" där en vuxen, klart medveten människa får uttrycka sin vilja om huruvida livsuppehållande åtgärder ska tillämpas i olika situationer medan hon är mentalt frisk. Beträffande livsuppehållande åtgärder i livets början, bör ingen enskild läkare behöva fatta ett sådant beslut eller agera ensamt, utan efter diskussion och gemensamt beslut med ytterligare en medicinsk kunnig samt minst en förälder tycker jag.