Compassion of assisted death

I regret the defeat of the bill that would have allowed a terminally ill adult to have an assisted death (News, 19 September). Perhaps the story of my 88-year-old mother, who took her own life this year, will explain why.

As a former nurse, I have witnessed first hand the pain and horror of undignified, unnecessarily protracted deaths. Having also studied assisted dying during my training, I know the profound ethical weight of this issue.

My mother was a devout Christian, a regular church attendee, and a woman who treated everyone with respect, love and forgiveness. She lived her life firmly believing that every action we take is sculpting our soul for its next journey. Her soul was heavily tied to her fierce independence and her 67-year marriage to my father, who now lives with dementia.

Despite her own failing health, she visited him in his care home every day, facing the heartbreak of his decline with immense love. When age and chronic illness finally cost my mother her driving licence, she decided her journey in this world was complete.

She had jokingly warned me she’d do this, but of course I didn’t believe it. She took her own life secretly using alcohol and medication – in contrast to my daughter’s mother-in-law in Sydney, where after a long battle with cancer she was allowed to terminate her life and did so with her family’s consent and love. She died surrounded by her family.

After my mother’s passing, her closest friend revealed they had discussed suicide for years, viewing it as a rational choice for when the time was right. This friend’s own mother had chosen the same path after lovingly discussing it with her children.

Yet, because of the legal and religious prohibition, my family is left fractured by trauma, silence and a terrible, lingering sense of guilt. We feel as though we let her down. The stigma forces me to lie to people, telling them she died of a TIA because the truth is deemed too shameful for the wider community. We are also enduring the acute anxiety of a police investigation.

There is a beautiful value in the younger generation witnessing the full cycle of life: I understand that. Learning that life can be tough, particularly in later life, and that the elderly must be respected regardless of their vulnerabilities. But the status quo has replaced that sacred lesson with overwhelming guilt, shock and embarrassment for me, my siblings and her grandchildren.

If a compassionate and thorough framework were permitted, my family could have known their grandmother wanted to depart; we would have rallied to give her a happy, warm send-off, taken her to a West End play, a trip to her beloved Lake District or overseas.

We could have held her hand and sent her on her next journey with love, acceptance, and peace. Forcing families into a regime of secrets, lies and police statements does not honour the sanctity of life or the core Christian values of truth and compassion.

NAME AND ADDRESS SUPPLIED

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