Spi, I didn't want any of this to be about me, but I need to preface what I am going to say. When this latest bout of ill-health started for Rags, I sent him a private-message, telling him that I might beat him to heaven, because I had just been diagnosed with advanced throat-cancer. I had chemo and radi at the same time, and the cancer is gone now, but I had alot of misery, and alot of time and motivation to ponder these existential-issues. If I had been in the position of knowing I was not going to get better, I would have ended my suffering while I still had agency-enough to do so, rather than risk getting in a position where I wanted to die, but couldn't. I also have a strong memory, of my great-grandmother, on her 90th-birthday, confiding to me in a private-moment, "Food doesn't taste good any more. I am ready to die." My dad had dementia, and died in a nursing-home, a terrified animal, who they kept alive until he forgot how to swallow, and drowned in his own saliva. When Ragnar says he is ready to go, you need to believe him, because it's him. The last thing he wants to ever be is helpless.
