AS a nation with an ageing population, how we treat people at the end of their lives is an issue of great importance - but one which, perhaps understandably, many of us prefer not to have to think about.

But we should. Not just for ourselves (again, understandably, contemplating our own mortality is something most of us would rather not do) but for the people we love who reach the end of their lives before we do.

Cumbrian woman Louise Broughton has prompted a debate in the national press over the past week, following a letter to the Daily Telegraph in which she described in heartbreaking detail the suffering of an elderly woman in the last days of her life. The woman, a friend of Louise's mother, was in "end-of-life care" in her nursing home, having opted for no medical intervention. Such an option is becoming increasingly common for the elderly, many of whom wish to "go gently into that good night", rather than be carted off to hospital, hooked up to all manner of tubes and monitors and be subjected to costly, potentially distressing, possibly invasive and ultimately futile treatment. I know I would opt for the former.

Or at least I thought I would, until I read Louise's letter. In it she told of the distress of seeing the 96-year-old lying unable to move or speak. But she knew she could hear her, because "when I spoke to her she clutched my hand," wrote Louise. "I told her to squeeze my hand if she was in pain or frightened - and she did so. It could be a number of days before her death."

In these days of advanced medical treatment (as currently evidenced by the awe-inspiring BBC series Surgeons: At the Edge of Life ), it is difficult to contemplate that many, mainly elderly, people are approaching their final moments not at all gently - but in pain, distress and fear.

When someone opts for "no medical intervention", they may not understand that this also means the withdrawal of food and fluids. Care and nursing staff are under no obligation (legally, if not perhaps morally) to do so much as moisten a dying person's parched mouth.

"We wouldn't treat our pets like this," Louise, who lives in Bowness, told me - and I wholeheartedly agree. As a nation of animal lovers we go to great pains and expense to make sure that, when it comes to letting them go, we do so in the most humane and stress-free way possible.

It seems unthinkable that some humans are being denied the same stress-free end to their lives as we afford to our pets.

Palliative, end of life care is just as important as the care and treatment we expect to be given when illness and injury befalls us. Then, recovery and rehabilitation are the aims; but so, always, should the aims of end of life care be to ensure maximum dignity and comfort, and minimum pain and distress.

John Duddington, secretary of the Medical Ethics Alliance, has joined the call for a rethink regarding end of life care in terms of withdrawal of medical intervention.

He said: "Louise Broughton is right: 'no medical intervention' does mean withdrawal of food and fluid, as the Tony Bland case in 1992 decided that food and fluid count as medical treatment.

"Nursing staff who provide these are acting humanely, but there is no legal obligation to do so where medical intervention is withdrawn. It is time the law was changed."

End of life care in a modern, enlightened society should be practised in as humane and ethical a way as is possible. Our hospices lead the way in this field, providing superlative care and support for their patients - and, just as importantly, for the patients' loved ones.

Outside of the charitably-funded sector, however, end of life care is not always provided to the standards we might expect; and that is to the wider detriment of a modern society.

Leaving an elderly person to die in dehydrated distress, fright and pain cannot be right in this day and age. As Louise Broughton says, we would not let our pets suffer in the same way. The law on withdrawal of medical intervention needs reviewing - and it needs reviewing soon.