A Moral Dilemma

Madison Cook


192 Dartmouth Place


 Penticton, B.C.


V2A 7S4


 March 31, 2011





Inspector Clouseau


Chief of Police


123 Rue Justice


Paris, France


1A2 R3T

 

Dear Inspector Clouseau:

      To save an innocent life or to save a priceless portrait this was a decision hardly difficult to make. The reason I chose to save 92 year old Ada Artlover was because alike her I have a family and if anything would happen to them it would be devastating. When the smoke started filling the gallery room I knew how Adas' family would feel if they lost her so I wasn't going to be the reason she passed away. I couldn't live with myself knowing that I just let someone with a family and a home suffer a horrible death. Maybe it was selfish to those who would have chosen differently but never will I second guess or regret my decision.

     I do know that I have destroyed the priceless Mona Lisa and I am sorry but it's not like she's gone forever. The painting was just an inanimate object that attracted people to a museum. Fortunately the Internet has exploded allowing so many pictures of the Mona Lisa to pop up so she's not that hard to find. On the other hand Ada Artlover is a not going to show up everywhere and how am I suppose to let someone go who is irreplaceable.

   Every day the human race is faced with a tragedy and not only the humane thing to do is to help but it's  also the right thing. Today I saved a life for no reward or because I was forced to I did it because it was the right thing to do. Inspector Clouseau I hope you see this as a great decision on my behalf and do not regret it just as I do.

Sincerely,


Madison Cook


Madison Cook


 

Tomorrow and Today

Close your eyes and imagine you're sitting in a hospital waiting room. How are you feeling? Are you nervous? This morning, I was going through a stack of papers on my desk when I came across a wrinkled sheet from an old notepad. At the very top I had scribbled, "One hour in the hospital is like a full day anyplace else." The remainder of the page was filled with observations I jotted down while my 12 year old son John was in an intensive care unit for so many days I lost track. There was just a continuous clock that never ended. Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick I feel tired. For many years I have spoken with scared families camped out in the pale waiting rooms of hospitals, surrounded by blankets, empty drink containers, and the taste of  hideous stale odours that never leave my tongue. At times it looked just as a war zone would after all the battle.  I tend to associate hospital waiting rooms with the aroma of fresh coffee and disinfectant. Suddenly I heard my name being called and my heart beats hard like a drum in a marching band. My stomach sunk, the room started spinning and all I could hear are muffled echoes in the halls of painful cries from other families. They could only say one thing. He won’t make it. My baby boy will not graduate, become a engineer, or even dance at his wedding. In that very moment all I wanted more than my son to be healthy was to scream. However I just stood there deep in my thoughts and looked around the waiting room. Families from all over simply bowed their heads. The important yet difficult decision still waits for me as I enter his dark, grim room. Even the bright blue curtains couldn’t cheer me up today. Softly the doctor whispers "have you come up with a decision?" It shot through my ear and I think do I let him go or should I keep waiting? The problem with waiting is it may never end. So I tell them 'pull the foul plug."  Close your eyes and imagine you're sitting in a hospital waiting room. How are you feeling? Are you nervous?