Enh, not really. I've said on here before how it would certainly be a nice parting gesture if I could somehow take the illness of someone who desperately wants to live in a sort of one use only John Coffey-esque way, but, truth be told, it's just me pissing in the wind. Even if the opportunity were actually there, I'd probably just back out like the yellow bellied wimp I know I am. Picture Robert Carlyle's character from the opening scene of 28 Weeks Later and there you have it.
The only real, tangible thing that appeals to me about a terminal illness is the inescapable nature of it. It doesn't matter how weak, cowardly, or squeamish I am. I'm going to die and there's not a single god damned thing I can do about it. Thus, my craven nature would be left powerless in the face of such a predicament. Whereas in a traditional suicide scenario I'd be doomed to failure, a terminal illness would essentially seal my fate without me having to lift a finger or overcome anything. For someone like me, who's far too weak/afraid to die by my own hand, there's massive appeal in that. Now does that mean I want to run sprinting out the door to go and contract some deadly diseases? Hell, No. In many ways, choosing to contract a deadly illness is the same thing as pulling the trigger on a double barreled shotgun. In both cases, you've decided to go beyond the point of no return. Something I know I'll never be able to do, barring the most extreme circumstances and perhaps not even then. Frankly, if one is capable of crossing such an insurmountable threshold in the first place then, even I have to admit, that they'd be far better off picking a method more immediate & final, then willfully choosing a slow demise by some horrible sickness withering them away piece by piece. Having said all that, does the idea of me potentially being diagnosed with a fatal illness at some point in my life fill me with grim hope? Absolutely. In fact the sooner the better, since the faster it comes the less time I have to spend rotting away here. Would it probably be excruciating? Of course. Would I be wrapped in dread & panic? No doubt. Would there be some semblance of comfort in the finality of it all? Well, I'd like to think so. It wouldn't be ideal obviously, but beggars can't be choosers and at least it'd be a guaranteed end. The difference is that I'd be stricken with it out of the blue, with no action necessary on my part. If that's someone's idea of a "free lunch" when it comes to suicide, well then so be it. Let shame forever rain down on the rest of us for not being able to pull ourselves up by our suicidal boot straps. I guess we must just not want to die hard enough and must therefore secretly want to live, amirite? Give me a fucking break, sheesh. If you happen to have it in yourself to sit down and do what you need to do by your own hand in a more "proper way" then fucking wonderful. More power to you. Although, my apologies if for some here this comes as a shock to discover (regardless of whether they find it to be personally disagreeable to them), but people like me can't, despite how much it is we want to. Some of us here have no choice, but to continue to rot in torment, as if we were undying hollows from Dark Souls made manifest, until god knows when, with no hope of escape, unless maybe, just maybe, things somehow get bad enough for the impossible to become briefly possible, or we win the lottery and die a natural, early death. Desperate plans & ideas make perfect sense when all the familiar exits out of this hell hole are blocked off, even the one manned by the reaper itself (at least for now, anyway). Then again, it's easy to dismiss what you can't, or don't want to, see though. isn't it? But whatever. Everybody's entitled to their high horse, I guess
EDIT: Not sure why I started arguing with myself near the end there. I guess I just got suddenly annoyed at the idea, among other things, of someone disapproving of an "easy path" to suicide if it were available out of some vain, misguided self-superiority. On top of that, I also got a little carried away ranting about the spurious notion that if someone is too afraid/weak to commit suicide, then surely that must mean they really want to live because otherwise they would have no fear/reservations about it. Be that as it may and outside of my inane tangents, I'd tend to agree that for the vast majority of us here, there are no shortcuts to suicide. Unless you're willing to knuckle down and do the deed yourself in the most direct & efficient manner, you're pretty much shit out of luck barring acts of extreme chance like a piano falling on your head or a random homicidal maniac gunning you down with an assault rifle. It's tragic, but it's true.
