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“In my time of dying
Want nobody to mourn
All I want for you to do
Is take my body home

Well, well, well, so I can die easy”

Led Zeppelin

Henry

We had to say goodbye to our dog Henry last week.  He was Paula’s fifth rescue, sixth if you count me.  I still remember adopting our first dog Alberta from a woman’s home in Mississauga when she was just a puppy.  The woman’s granddaughter had moved home with a boyfriend and a dog, and the dog was ruining her gardens.

I found the whole experience overwhelming with Alberta so crazy with excitement to see us.  I told Paula that “I don’t think we can adopt this dog” to which she replied, “We are not leaving here without this dog”.  Those that know Paula know that she really isn’t a ‘bossy pants’ so when she says something is final, best to just agree.

I couldn’t possibly have known that the life journey of dogs in the home would be so wonderful.  Also, there were ancillary benefits of getting me out of my desk chair every day to walk and to help manage my endless anxiety that I had mistaken as ‘drive’.  For both children and dogs alike, the joys far outweigh the sacrifices as well as moments of frustration and disappointment.  No regrets whatsoever.

Cocker Spaniels are expected to live 11 to 14 years.  Henry was 17, had lost weight in the last few months, was frail, fell frequently and was unable to get up.  Just a few months ago he was still chugging along – although slowly – and his final months saw a very visible decline.

Paula and I have been on watch for several years and we have unanimously agreed that Henry wasn’t ready to go – and our vet agreed.  That was until about a week ago when Henry stopped eating and spent virtually the entire 24-hour cycle sleeping.  Paula had the courage to say it first – “it’s time”. 

If you have ever had a dog in your home, you know the heartbreak that comes with this decision and none of the men in our family are embarrassed to cry about it.  Our vet, Dr. Jim is a sucker for dogs and in particular Cocker Spaniels as the breed of his own.  The ending was compassionate and respectful, which is all you can hope for when your number is called.

We will miss him forever, just like we miss Alberta, Jenny, Molly, Ruby, Daisy, and Sammy.  But we have had Cooper since December to lead the way and as a special treat we have Michael and Emily’s dog Maya for a couple weeks while they travel to visit her grandparents.

Mom

My siblings and I had to say goodbye to our mom a few years ago – she was 90.  Mom had Alzheimer’s and like Henry it was a long slow decline.  She outlived my dad by 25 years, and his departure was a short three weeks between a diagnosis of terminal cancer and a heart attack.  Neither version of losing a parent is easy.

Mom’s decline was more mental than physical in the beginning.  Forgetting small details that were not that important gave way to not remembering the names of her grandchildren.  At later stages she recognized me but would guess that my name was Ferdinand – I am sure I look a little like my dad, so all is forgiven. 

When mom moved into one of Ontario’s long-term care homes (where she received excellent care) we saw many women resting in wheelchairs with very little mobility or cognitive engagement.  I am in no way saying these individuals didn’t deserve to continue to live or receive great care – but it is a sad ending to what otherwise was probably a vibrant life.

As mom’s chapter came to a close, I am not sure how much she recognized us because she could no longer talk so there was nothing she could tell us.  Mom’s final weeks were not full of life – but we were lucky that her final days were not filled with pain.

I am not telling this story for sympathy.  In the end, my relationship with my mom was excellent and my siblings were outstanding partners in co-managing this final stage.  Never a disagreement on mom’s health care needs or costs and never a fight to be cheap to maximize the estate left to us.  We all agreed that the ideal outcome was for the money to run out around the same time as mom – and we would jointly insure any excess cost of care.  I know it sounds very actuarial, but that is how our father raised us.  I wish for anyone reading this that still has one or more parents to have such good relationships with their siblings – it makes a huge difference when the time comes.

MAID

Medical Assistance in Dying (MAID) is new to Canada.  By new, I mean since 2016.  New laws permitting MAID came about due to the fight Sue Rodriguez took all the way to the Supreme Court of Canada in the 1990s.  She lost in court but won in the hearts of Canadians and our governments took notice and ultimately changes were made.

Although there are concerns that some of the most vulnerable in our society maybe being nudged to MAID, the general sentiment is that it’s a needed tool for Canadians to make their own end of life choices commensurate to their pain and prognosis thus “Ensuring access to quality end-of-life choice and care through advocacy, education, and support.”

My university pals are a group of 6 that talk every week through a group chat.  Occasionally we get a zoom call together and once a year we travel somewhere in Ontario to play cards face to face.  The group of us are in the ‘4^th Quarter’ and we talk about the time that is left and the limit on healthy years remaining. 

Making a decision to end your life before it has expired through natural forces must be a difficult decision.  One of Shawn’s friends was just diagnosed with terminal cancer and has elected MAID in the coming months.

I am 100% positive that my dad would have elected MAID if it was available in 1998.  I don’t know what my mom would have wanted but the question was irrelevant because unlike Henry, as guardians (power of attorney for health care) MAID was not a decision we could make on mom’s behalf – the rules of the road are that you have to make these decisions for yourself in the moment (although Quebec allows advance directives).

* * * * *

How does all this tie together?  I think there is a point for all of us where there is so little life left and what is left might be painful or at a minimum lacking any cognitive pleasure.  I don’t know how you know if someone can’t tell you what they are experiencing.

For me anyway, I would be happy to sign a form today that said if I can’t make my own end of life decision, that the person I have granted my power of attorney for health care can make it for me.  I think Henry was afforded the dignified ending that we should all want, whether we can communicate it clearly or not.