Last weekend the Washington Post ran a piece titled, “What does it cost to die in America? Search your Zip code.” The subhead read, “Calculate how much you should set aside for the final years of life.”

There’s definite value to the research, information, and advice presented in the article. It’s good for people—especially those at, past, or near retirement age—to have an idea how they should plan financially for what comes to all of us, sooner or later.

But there was something about the piece that nagged at me after I read it, and it took me a day or to realize what it was. It’s the way that the article (and “calculator”) characterized all the various expenses included as “the cost of dying”.

That’s perfectly appropriate when, for instance, it’s talking about funeral expenses — “Americans can expect to need about $7,726 for funeral costs on average.” Estate and inheritance taxes are also a reality that many people should take into consideration when planning, to minimize what their heirs will have to pay for out of their estates.

But the biggest part of the article’s “cost of dying”—an average of $187,775—is “elderly care”—long-term care in particular. This is where the problem is.

It’s not that such expenses don’t diminish the size of whatever inheritance one leaves behind. It’s that this lumps together things that do not belong together and assumes a worldview or ethical position that the author and editor either were unconscious of or hope the reader doesn’t notice. It calls that part of one’s life when one is weakest, most vulnerable, and most in need of care from other people dying.

It’s important to appreciate the moral, psychological, and spiritual shift that this represents. Instead of valuing the elderly in this situation—which, as the article points out, can last for years—as human beings with life and worth because they are, in fact, living human beings, this puts them on the other side of the ledger: they are dying, on their way out, inevitably losing that which formerly gave them inestimable value.

It’s not hard to imagine the effect that this way of thinking or speaking, if or as it becomes more common, will have on people. The aged, when their health declines past a certain point and need more care, will think or be encouraged to think, “Well, I guess that’s it; I’m dying now, so what’s the point of the nursing home, the therapy, or the medications?” —when they may actually still have many years left to live and to share their lives with their loved ones and others. And families and heirs will be inclined to say, “The doctors say Grandma Jill can’t live on her own anymore and needs round-the-clock care; since she’s already dying, then, what’s the point of wasting her estate paying for a facility or aide?” —even though it’s possible for Grandma to have years of a very good life under long-term care.

If you don’t think this is likely, you should consider what has already been happening in places where assisted suicide (the form of euthanasia euphemistically referred to as “Medical Assistance in Dying” (MAID)) is legal. There are many documented cases of people with conditions that are not going to result in imminent death choosing MAID not so much because they want “to die with dignity” or "on their own terms" but because they feel it is incumbent on them not to “waste” money by remaining alive and under medical care.

That’s not how things are supposed to be. All life is precious; every human being has value. That worth should be honored, not discounted. Neither nearing the end of life nor declining health changes this: as long as anyone is still alive, they should be considered to be living, with all the worth that anyone living merits, not “on the way to being dead”*. 

If long-term care, a stay in a skilled nursing facility, extended therapies, or perennial prescriptions allow someone to remain alive in this world, this should be celebrated as living. Not coldly calculated as just another cost of dying.

*My phrasing, not a quote from the article.