Counterpoint: People disabled like me deserve freedom of choice at life's end

Opinion editor's note : Star Tribune Opinion publishes a mix of national and local commentaries online and in print each day. To contribute, click here . ••• Along with thousands of advocates across Minnesota. I am hopeful that the End of Life Options Act will receive a hearing and a vote in the Minnesota Legislature this year.

This legislation would allow medical aid in dying for people with incurable diseases who have been diagnosed with less than six months to live. Some individuals advocating for people living with disabilities have opposed this bill, including Jesse Bethke Gomez, executive director of the Metropolitan Center for Independent Living ("Aid in dying would worsen health care inequities," Jan.

1 ). As a person living with a disability, I am wary of people and organizations that, under the banner of protecting me, aim to deny me choices. Too often, when my demographic does garner attention in public debates, it is as an emotional pawn serving someone else's agenda. I suspect that something like this might be happening in this case.

The experience of people living with disabilities is being invoked to defeat legislation that would allow the choice of medical aid in dying. I object. I disagree with this position for many reasons. But underneath them all, I don't feel protected by someone who is trying to restrict my autonomy and the autonomy of others.

My uneasiness runs even deeper. It feels like my experience is being employed to stop legislation that, as proposed, is not focused on people living with ongoing, persistent disabilities. The legislation is about choices surrounding the process of dying. Simply put, I don't want my experience to be used to restrict the choices of people who are suffering worse than I am.

For the past 45 years, since the age of 13, I have lived permanently and completely paralyzed from the chest down. I use a wheelchair. As you might imagine, I have had my share of health issues. I can tell you categorically that I would not be here without the guidance, support and knowledge of dedicated health care professionals.

In my years of living with overt disability, I have also taken a slightly alternative path. I have studied and practiced yoga for 32 years. In 2002, I started a nonprofit that has helped thousands of people transform trauma, loss and disability into hope and potential. My experience shows me first hand that people with disabilities are a very diverse group.

This is a crucial point. There is not one category of disability, no singular policy that applies to the diversity of our collective experience. There are visible and invisible disabilities, physical and mental disabilities, cognitive and learning disabilities, trauma related disabilities, disabilities related to aging, disease and on and on.

Yes, some of us are exceptionally vulnerable and need societal protection. And yes, we are faced with profound inequities in access to health care support and resources. Yes, it makes us feel bad. But the vast majority of people living under the expanding tent of disability are not extremely vulnerable and fragile.

In fact, we are some of the wisest, life capable and resilient human beings you will ever meet. Allowing medical aid in dying does not pass a value judgment on my life as a disabled person, implying that I might be better off dead. To the contrary, it honors and respects my autonomy, my ability to make choices.

I agree that there are important issues involved in allowing medical aid in dying. We need to be careful. I believe the proposed bill does just that. It carefully and narrowly defines who would qualify and what the process would be. So why is the experience with disability being used in this debate? I suspect it might be well intended emotional misdirection.

I believe that the opponents of this legislation do actually care about people living with disabilities. I suspect that, underneath it all, opponents to this bill hold a certain notion of what it means to honor the sanctity of life. My conception is likely different. For me, dying well — whatever that means to someone — is part of living well.

To be honest, if I am diagnosed with an incurable disease and have six months to live, I do not know what I would choose. I just know that I want the choice. Matthew Sanford lives in Long Lake..