My mother didn’t get the death she wanted, when she wanted it.
I come from a Jewish family, in the sense that my family and I were ‘officially’ Jewish, but none of us followed the religion or believed in any god. I have been an atheist all my life, and in fact a humanist all my life, although I didn’t realise that until a few years ago when I went to a humanist wedding. It was the loveliest, most personal and appropriate ceremony I had ever been to, and talking to the celebrant afterwards led me to join Humanist Society of Scotland.
I absolutely believe in freedom of choice, whether that is a faith, or a lack of faith. We humanists say: “freedom of religion, freedom from religion”. We have no choice in how we enter this world, but I believe we should have a choice in how we leave it, if we wish, with appropriate safeguards in place. As humanists we believe there is only this life. If you believe there is something beyond this life, I respect that and your choices. So please respect my choices and the choices of the majority who support assisted dying.
My views on assisted dying
On a personal note, I didn’t have a great relationship with my mum, for various reasons, but I want to talk about her death, not her life – what happened and why, my part in it, and how it has affected my views on assisted dying.
I found out that my mum was terminally ill, and she was told this too. She was in a care home and then a hospice. As I knew she was dying I made a point of spending time with her and made sure, as best I could, that this time with her was positive and enjoyable for both of us. I didn’t want to have any regrets or for our relationship to end on a bad note. The knowledge that she only had a few months to live made this possible, for which I am extremely grateful.
I particularly remember one afternoon I spent with her when she was in hospital. I talked to her about my childhood, some happy memories I had and in particular the songs and nursery rhymes she used to sing to me. I got her to sing them to me again so I could learn the words, as some of them were in Polish as she was born in Poland. I was pregnant at the time and hoped to sing some of them to my child. It was such a lovely experience. I still well up when I think about it. I’m so grateful I was able to give that special time to both of us.
Do not resuscitate notice (DNR)
Sometime later I got a call to say she had collapsed at the care home and been taken to hospital. I rushed to A&E to arrive and hear her berating the doctor for reviving her. She was angry, saying he should have let her go, not revived her. I apologised to the doctor. He was only doing his job as specified by the health service, the law and his belief in the best care for her. Soon after she told me she wanted a DNR notice. She actually said she wanted it in her will! I tried a couple of times to explain why this wouldn’t work, then gave up and agreed to get it set up. I did, and was happy to do this for her as that’s what she wanted. It was a relief for me to know she would not suffer unduly and would have the death that she wanted, as she had so clearly voiced her preference.
A few months later I had a call from the hospice saying that I should maybe think about getting there soon. I took this to mean that she didn’t have long. As ever we use euphemisms when it comes to death. An hour or two later while I was making plans to travel from Glasgow to London to say goodbye to her and be with her in her last moments there was another call to say she had died. The nurse told me her last words which mum had asked her to pass on. Her last words were: “tell Dorrit not to worry”. That was such a typical thing for her to say. She was a born worrier or possibly learnt to worry due to being Jewish and a child at the start of the Second World War. Anyway, it was a poignant, touching and reassuring thing to hear.
Getting better at talking about death
If assisted dying had then been an option, I’m sure we would have been able to discuss it and agree what she wanted. I would have done everything in my power to make sure she got the death that she wanted, when she wanted it, and I could have been there. It is so important to have those difficult conversations with the people around us so that they can state what their wishes are around illness, death and funerals. We need to get better at talking about death and dying. After all it’s one of the certainties in life that we will all experience and we should not force people to endure great physical or emotional suffering at the end of their life if that is not what they want. If we wish to have some assistance with that to ensure it is a dignified, reasonably painless and timely end then assisted dying legislation is essential. It will hopefully facilitate those difficult conversations.
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