I am thinking about this question: what is dignity? Is it privacy? A boundary that you agentfully assert, an adult thing, that keeps things quiet that should be kept quiet. Is it an intact body, no leakages, or untended hair, washed clean, no effluvia. Is it keeping your own counsel out of self respect, and respect for others. Is it self sufficiency, taking care of your own, cleaning up after yourself. Taking responsibility. Is it stoicism and fortitude in the face of the unbearable. Is it something clean instead of dirty, concealed instead of splattered indiscriminately, is it discernment and pride and self actualisation.
I can’t answer this question any more. I can’t tell what is worst because all of it is so terrible. But loss of dignity is part of it. My inclination is to withdraw, so no one sees me this way. G disagrees. He thinks I shouldn’t cut people off. I find embarrassment difficult. He doesn’t see that I have anything to be embarrassed about. But there it is. I am embarrassed by the bag of bones I have become, by the way I choke on my own saliva and that racking awful cough that gets provoked when I do. I am embarrassed by the difficulty talking. By the interminable decline that doesn’t just end as it should. I think G is coming to see that it needs to end.