Lonely in the middle

Four years ago this week, I returned from a year long stay in Iraq. Tikrit, Iraq, Saladin Province, to be precise — Saddam Hussein’s hometown. Our home was Contingency Operating Base Speicher, a 25-square-mile wasteland of desert, buildings and runways named after Navy Capt. Scott Speicher, the first American killed in the 1991 Gulf War.

{mosads}As I think about this milestone in my life, and the 27 people that went with us to Iraq but didn’t come home, intertwined with recent news events, I can’t help but remember two other lives — Brittany Maynard and Angela Hazlewood. Many people have heard of the first, and not the second. But fame is not what this column is about.

Brittany was sick with brain cancer and chose to die before the disease would almost certainly take her life. Angie was sick with lymphoma, fought to the end, and died when cancer got the best of her. Each was under 40, met the same fate too soon, but under different circumstances.

Apart from the obvious such as funding and research, the connection between cancer shortening lives and politics might not be obvious, but it’s there. Life and death are the ultimate extremes — you are one or the other, either dead or alive. Similarly, everything with politics today seems to be black or white, red or blue; you’re with someone or against them; and there’s no in between. That said, from where I sit, there is at least one issue that falls in between.

Keeping the government off my back is a true personal cornerstone. Let me do what I want to do, as long as it doesn’t hurt anyone else, and keep Big Brother away. I won’t vote for a candidate who doesn’t believe in this principle. Is the right to physician-assisted suicide included? In recent weeks, I’ve thought a lot about this question.

Truth be told, I don’t know if physician-assisted suicide should be legal. The principles of limited government (with a few exceptions), balanced with my belief that life should be protected and is an uncomprehendable precious gift, are in conflict on this question. I’d like to think that if I get a terminal illness, and know my time is limited, I’ll fight with every last ounce of energy to live as long as possible. But that time hasn’t come, and I don’t know how I’ll react. So the mystery is there.

I didn’t know Brittany, apart from what I read and watched. I knew Angie basically her entire life — we were neighbors and went to middle school, high school and college together, friends for 25 years. Neither should have died in the cruel and untimely way that they did. But I suppose that’s all part of the uncertainty and unfairness of life. The only thing all of us know for sure is that one day, we’ll die. When, where and how is to be determined, unless, of course, physician-assisted suicide is involved. Then there is certainty.

Thinking about Brittany Maynard’s ultimate choice, and her move from California to Oregon, reminds me of Angie. I wonder what Angie would think about the question and the role of government in this debate. Certainly her point of view would be more informed than mine, but obviously I can’t ask her opinion. I wish I could, because I’d probably adopt it as my own.

Wrestling with this issue makes me both happy and sad. Happy because I’m reminded of the times I shared with a good friend; sad because her time on earth was entirely too short. I’m sure Brittany’s family feels the same.

If physician-assisted suicide was on the ballot, I don’t know how I’d vote. My feelings are “in the middle,” which puts me totally out of step with the political realities of 2014. While figuring it out, I’ll simply enjoy the middle, cherish my time on earth, smile and laugh as much as possible, and take Bob Dylan’s advice to “keep on keepin’ on.”

Randy DeCleene is a partner at kglobal, a Washington-based communications consulting firm. He also hosts “The 202,” a politically oriented podcast. He previously worked at the White House and Pentagon, among other places.