As we age, there are certain times of the year that trigger an encompassing sense of emotional loss and sadness. It can be one of the major family holidays, a birthday or an anniversary. It can be as simple as a song on the radio, a movie, a sentence or a slice or time remembered. The triggers are very personal and as such vary with each person. As I journey through my 70s, there is becoming an ever-increasing list of loved ones who have passed. My most overwhelming loss is my husband, Steve. My only sense of gratefulness comes from the fact that he was able to utilize the medical assistance in dying program (MAID). 

Over the years, we often joked about who would go first and why each of us didn’t want to be the one left behind. We also talked about MAID, more from my prompting than from his. Steve felt that I was a bit too enthusiastic about quality of life. He feared I may not consider that a person like himself might rally. He was, I think, more concerned than necessary that I would not be inclined to wait a suitable amount of time before deciding to (as he described it) “pull the plug.” 

I watched him suffer through the impact of an extremely painful cancer that weakened his bones and caused multiple fractures, particularly in his spine and pelvis area. Yes, he fought hard. Yes, he was determined not to admit defeat. Yes, his kindness and love of life remained strong. I never suggested MAID. My respect for him included his right to make personal decisions without my influence.   

Steve became physically weaker and emotionally drained by this insidious illness. I watched him become enveloped by a sense of loss. He needed help with personal care. Driving by himself safely was not possible. He could not lift his bass let alone play it. He could no longer hug his family without pain. Steve began to question the point of living a life that took away the joy of living. A life with no positive future. A life full of indescribable physical and emotional suffering. One day, the reality of his rapidly approaching end-of-life destiny could no longer be denied. Steve did not give up. He did not surrender to his illness. He took charge of life as he had always done. He made his own decision. 

Steve’s choice was to begin the process of proving his eligibility for services provided by MAID. With the support of his local medical team, he was assessed and found eligible. He was informed he could set a date of his choice right away. He was in total control. He had the option not only to change dates but to change his mind even at the last moment of the process. 

My husband was consistently treated with the respect he deserved. He retained his sense of dignity. He set a date for two weeks. The next day he decided it was too far away. The team facilitated moving the date closer – leaving only a couple of days to wait.    

The day of Steve’s passing was peaceful. Our daughters and I all crowded on the bed with him. Steve was calm and visibly relieved to be ending his pain. My belief is that everyone deserves to have this choice. 

Steve’s path to an assisted death was uncomplicated and he died with dignity, however there are still barriers to MAID that need addressing. For those diagnosed with capacity-diminishing conditions like dementias, we need legal advance requests for MAID. An advance request would allow an individual to describe, in writing, a future circumstance in which they would like to access an assisted death. 

You can go to the Advocacy page of the Dying With Dignity Canada website to find out more and to write a letter to your member of parliament about this very important end-of-life issue. I want to have a legal provision for an advance request for MAID. I don’t want a capacity-eroding condition to prevent me from having control over my choice of how and when to die. I am hoping by sharing Steve’s story, people will start to understand MAID and offer their acceptance and support of this very important program.