Exactly, my mother's best friend got into a car crash and was in a coma. She wasn't brain dead but she was so severely brain damaged that she wouldn't really have any self awareness anymore, she would need a feeding tube, she wouldn't be able to speak or understand speech, she would basically be a shell. Her parents turned off her life support and let her go in the end but where is the cutoff point for personhood? I have a good understanding of biology and brain development but my subject is psychology so ethics and morals are my tea.
In the case above you have a moral quandary that goes beyond the realm of personhood. Leaving the issue of whether your mother’s best friend was “still there” in whatever battered state she might’ve woken up in aside, it’s worth asking the question if this was a life she’d want to live. There’s something to be said about protecting human life, but if this life would’ve had no value to her, why should you value it more? To cause her more pain and suffering? That doesn’t seem like something a friend would do.
Since we’re being honest (yay!) and telling stories, we all have experiences of grief. I recently lost my fiancée’s father, and it was not an easy departure by any means. He had diabetes and advanced leukaemia, he also suffered multiple brain bleeds over the course of several months. We watched the man turn from his usual self into somebody else, a more spiteful, resentful and aggressive person. Eventually he became unmanageable and we had no choice but to have him taken to the hospital as neither her nor I had the time to keep him under constant supervision. We have our own home, our own jobs and our own lives, we couldn’t be there all day, every day. The progressively worsening brain damage he suffered affected his ability to function and multiple brain surgeries only preserved his life, really. He became unsteady and would fall frequently, becoming a danger to himself - in hospital someone could at least keep an eye on him at all times. The stay, while safer, only accelerated his decline, but we tried to be there for him the best we could when we received the call that “it will be any day now”. We had to set our differences aside and hold a vigil for him because, no matter how much bad blood was between us at that point, nobody should be alone on their death bed. He wasn’t himself anymore - he became a shell of a human, to the point that he didn’t recognise my better half most of the time. Every couple of hours, for a minute or two, something clicked in his brain and he was “there”, however briefly, and we knew he was afraid. She kept telling him that she loved him, hoping that he’d understand and remember, but his dementia was really advanced at that stage. One day we came in to see him and the nurse took us to a separate room. I knew what it meant, she didn’t. I was, sadly, correct.
Sappy, I know, but the story has a point. Throughout his life her father had always said that if he is ever in a state like this, he just wants to be kept comfortable. He saw his relatives pass after trials and tribulations and chose a dignified end rather than fighting at a point when all hope is lost. Those are the wishes we relayed to the staff and that’s what was administered, to the best of their abilities. As difficult as those conversations can be, I strongly suggest that everyone has them with their loved ones, so there’s no question on what to do when the time comes. He was an inconsiderate ass most of his life, but in that one regard, he wanted to spare everyone a heartbreak. That was nice of him - I don’t think she’d be able to bear it much longer.