Death with Dignity: The Right to Continue to Be the Person You’ve Always Been

By Nora Miller, a volunteer for Death with Dignity. This story first appeared at

www.DeathwithDignity.org

My husband Rick and I talked about Death with Dignity in general terms in 1996 when my mother died in pain and struggling for breath, and then again during the debates and publicity around the 1997 ballot initiative on Oregon’s law. We both agreed we’d prefer to control the conditions of our own deaths.

In early 1999 Rick developed a cough that wouldn’t go away. The diagnosis of metastatic terminal lung cancer in April left no room for doubt or hope for something less final. His first words were, “Now we are going to Alaska.” (Alas, we never made it.) His next words were, “I will be using the Oregon law.” We were fortunate our son and both our families supported his decision, with some regret and a few reservations, but without argument or complaint.

By mid-October, the doctor suggested it was time for hospice. We were able to keep Rick at home. Later that month, Rick made his first oral request under the Oregon Death with Dignity Act, followed by a written request, and the final verbal request in early November. Rick’s oncologist had never received a request before—with the law only two years old, everyone was new at it—but he was reasonable and sympathetic. He agreed Rick was of sound mind, not depressed, and definitely terminal. He wrote the prescription on a cold, rainy Friday in early November, and I drove across Portland to the only pharmacy willing to fill it at the time. Rick told me he thought he’d be a lot sicker when he’d be making the decision to use the prescription. He was, in fact, a lot sicker than he thought. He was having trouble with his voice and with swallowing. He often lost words or used them seemingly at random. He woke up with blinding headaches from a growing brain tumor. He couldn’t walk on his own. He’d become emaciated.

The day he made his decision had been a hard one: he was very tired and weak, and medications had deprived him of his emotional control. He was ready to go. I challenged his intention. I told him he could sleep on it, decide the next day. He was sure. He was calmer than he’d been in weeks, almost jovial, relieved. He needed the control and the ability to choose, and he needed to know that, in the end, we’d have joy and love in the midst of our sorrow. This was a last loving gift we gave each other. I wanted nothing more than to make that possible for him. I’ve never once regretted it.

I’ve often replayed those last weeks, recalling moments where I could’ve or should’ve done something differently. It’s taken me years to understand what I did was what Rick wanted, and to have done anything different would’ve made the process about me and not about him. It was his life and it was his death—he needed the right to decide how it would happen. To provide real dignity in dying, we must unconditionally respect the unique and inherent personhood of the person at the center of the process. Nobody’s Death with Dignity story will be the same as mine.

The dignity people seek in the dying process is unique to them. For some, it’s a time to reconnect with old friends and heal old wounds. Others need a few close friends who can help them address their fears and assess their options. For others still, it means focusing on the narrowing possibility of recovery, of beating the odds. But for every single person who is dying, Death with Dignity means having the right to continue to be the person they’ve always been. I’ll be forever grateful to my fellow Oregonians for making this possible for Rick. I just hope the remaining 47 states join Oregon, Washington, and Vermont and enact similar laws soon. (June 2013 / August 2015)

Brittany Maynard

I don't watch a lot of television, but earlier this year I watched the entire Breaking Bad series in about three weeks. What made the show so initially compelling for me was Walter White's decision to not undergo chemotherapy. He wanted to die on his own terms. (And he does, but I don't want to give away any spoilers.)



Understandably, his pregnant wife was upset with that choice. Had Walt not succumbed to her wishes, Breaking Bad would have been an entirely different show. Breaking Sad?

This past weekend Brittany Maynard chose to end her life. She had a terminal diagnosis, she lived in Oregon (a state with Death with Dignity laws in place), and she didn't want to suffer. To me, that sounds perfectly reasonable. For others, it sounds downright crazy. Who is right? Who knows? I'm just grateful that this issue is finally getting national attention. We are all going to die and many of us are going to be faced with these same questions. To treat or not to treat? Quality vs. Quantity?

I know I can't change your mind with a Facebook post or an itty, bitty blog, but if you would like to know more about Death with Dignity, you can click on Brittany Maynard's name up there, or click here. I also recommend watching the wonderful documentary How to Die in Oregon. It's an excellent conversation starter.


Monday Mourning: The Death of my Aunt

Who was the person that died?  My Aunt Evelyn.

How old were you at the time?  She died on Labor day of this year, which makes me 15,722 days old.

How old was the person?  She was 88.

Was it a sudden death or did you know it was going to happen?  Her health had been declining for the past five years.  She entered hospice a few months ago.

Did you and the person talk about their death? Yes.  She told me last year, the last time I saw her, that life had lost its fun and she didn't mind the idea of dying.  She was a very spiritual person and I think she looked forward to Heaven.

Had you experienced any other deaths in your personal life before this person died?  Yes.  My grandma when I was a teenager and my mother-in-law in November of last year.  Also, Khristian Oliver and Larry Matthew Puckett.

Were people supportive of your grief or did they shy away when you were grieving? On facebook, people were supportive and said nice things, but no one really talked to me about it or how I was feeling, other than my mother.  I was glad I got to be with my mom for the funeral and the days that followed.

 Is there anything you wish you'd done differently with this person?  I wish I had called her towards the end.  My mom lived with her for three years and she would tell me "Evelyn and I are praying for you" but I never spoke with her on the phone.  I did tell my mom to tell her I'd see her on the other side.

Was she buried or cremated?  She was buried next to her husband who preceded her in death.  She died on Labor Day and he died on Mother's Day several years ago.  She was also buried next to her daughter who died at birth.

Did you learn anything about the grieving process that you'd like to share?  I'm kind of new to death happening in my personal life, but one thing I've noticed is that being with people has been very helpful.  I truly had a wonderful time hanging out with my mom and my Uncle George.  I rarely get to see my extended family with the rare exception of maybe a wedding, a graduation or a funeral so it was nice to catch up.  We talked about Evelyn and how smart she was.  She loved doing the Jumble puzzle every morning.  Two days before she died. my mom handed her the paper and it was upside down and Evelyn got the first word, which was "moron."  That cracked me up.

After the funeral, I rented "How to Die in Oregon" from the local library.  I wanted my mom to see it.  As we started watching it, I was getting all weepy.  My mom and uncle were completely riveted by it.  I thought it might make things worse, but it didn't.  It allowed us to have a deep conversation about death and what it meant to each of us.

Were any songs played at the memorial that were important to the person?

No, but Evelyn loved Frank Sinatra, so this one goes out to her.

FYI, you don't have to comment, but clicking the "like" or the "I was here" button is nice.

Thanks and have a great week!