You Are Not Alone

We receive hundreds of letters and e-mails each year from supporters who want to share their special stories with us -- and with you. These are stories of courage, pain, joy, fear, sadness and hope -- and yet they each share a common message: "You are not alone."

We hope that after reading the stories below, you may wish to share your own story of dignity.

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	Thank you God she went fast and painless by karyn, nv, 5/11/2006 Seven months ago, my mother died of pnuemonia, she was 63. She had bypass surgery 2 years before that, copd, diabetes, high blood pressure and emphysema. She was a long time smoker and could never really quit. She had just come back from a three week vacation with my dad exploring America and was home for only three days before she was put into ICU and intubated. She was extubated and re-intubated before I made it up to Oregon. I was by her side for three days, and finally convinced the doctor she would not want to die like this in a hospital. After she woke up from all the medication, she told us she wanted to go home and be with her family and dog. She passed within 37 hours of coming home. I know she is happy with all our pets, but I still miss her so much!!!! This mothers day is going to be a very hard one, as are all the other holidays, but I know she is still with me and loves us all. Thank you for letting me share this.
	A Long Time To Die by Sallie Cwik, MD, 3/1/2006 My mother was nearly 90 and had been in failing health for several years, finally reaching a point that she could no longer live on her own. Working with her a decision was made that she would go to a nursing home where my brother's oldest daughter was head of nursing and in the town where he and his family all live. Mom was there for 16 months and was clearly unhappy with her life in a nursing home, although multiple family members were there nearly every day. About 6 or 7 months before her death she made an advance directive. In July her kidneys began to fail, she refused medical care and ultimately lapsed into unconsciousness and was rushed to the hospital. According to her advance directive, she was to receive no food, no water, no IV’s no medication at all. For the first 24 hours the hospital did not have the directive and they flushed her system and there was slight improvement, however dialysis would have been necessary and she was obviously in pain and was unable to speak. My 17 year old daughter and I arrived during the first night that she was in the hospital and there was no recognition. The next morning she recognized us but drifted away again quickly. That afternoon, my brother and I gave the advance directive to the doctors and mom was transferred back to the nursing home for hospice care. And, it was awful! So many of us think that once medical care, food and water are withdrawn for one so seriously ill, the end is quick. We watched Mom’s body fill with fluid because her kidneys didn’t function, her eyes and face turn yellow, listened to her scream out in pain when she was turned and cleaned (even though she was supposedly “unconscious”). After 4 days I had to return home, some one was with Mom nearly every minute of the 7 days it took her to die. My sister in law was holding her hand at the end and her death was peaceful. But the guilt has become overwhelming for me, it is obvious that her body was stronger than we all thought and maybe her will to live took over at the end, I don’t know. What I do know is that while I believe in advance directives, and even have one myself, the case is not always clear cut for family members. When it isn’t an accident causing brain death, when it isn’t a terminal disease and when the family is left to call the shots – it can be shear hell. My brother and I were treated as if we were murderers by the hospital and some of the nursing home staff, others were kind and supportive. I have not yet been able to come to grip the reality that I chose to let my Mother die, at that time and on that day. Her directive was clear and we followed to the letter, her suffering was brief and we did what she wanted. But the pain continues for me.
	Proud Daughter by Karen Loving, TN, 1/21/2006 I believe in one's right to have the freedom of choice in making their personal choices to be aheard to. My father's request was upheld with Pride and Dignity. It was his choice, and we all supported that and have no ill-regrets. He served and survived the havoc of WWII. The least we all could do is honor his wishes until the end.
	My Husband by Anna, California, 12/7/2005 Not long ago, my husband had lung cancer, which metastacized to his brain. He was very aware of his future. His main worry was he would turn to a mindless state and wanted no one to experience that horror, not to mention the physical and mental pain we all witnessed. He panicked too early because he had no death with dignity protection, so he stopped eating and drinking liquids when he was told he had a month or so to live. He passed away at home in the arms of his family, fully lucid - the way he wantd to be remembered - refusing to go to a hospital. Hospice helped us enormously. It was five years ago, and I still can't get over the horror and love of that needlessly horrible ending of a wonderful person and the guilt and helplessness of his family. He was afraid of medical procedures and help.
	Oregon Law Allowed Dignified Death by Dan Jaggers, Oregon, 10/18/2005 This story was in my local paper. It deeply touched my heart: Oregon law allowed a dignified death: My friend Joe has passed away. Lung cancer. He was 78. Joe was a thoughtful man. He read widely, seeking wisdom in the insights of shamans as well as the findings of scientists. He was a kind man, tapping his deep knowledge and wide experience to offer suggestions about life's trials and triumphs, never pronouncements. Listening as carefully as he spoke, he earned the respect and affection of his many friends. As his end became certain, though sick and easily tired, he gave those who loved him time to visit and to sadly, but gently, accept his exit from their lives. Joe was a handsome man, tall and straight, a dignified presence in any gathering. He chose to leave the world at his good time with his family at his side. I write to thank those citizens who voted for Oregon's Death with Dignity law. Because of them my friend Joe finished life with his self-control and dignity unspoiled. HERB MATTHEWS - Eugene, Or.
	Courage and Dignity: A Family's Pride by Steve Harding, Florida, 10/14/2005 Imagine “living” a life where your mind is clear and active but your body is deteriorating and you are simply waiting for it to quit. My mother Edna decided not to “live” that way and fortunately she did not have to, she had options. Mom was born in July of 1924 on a farm in Illinois. She was the oldest of five children and life was difficult. According to her this was the time she decided that she could create her own destiny if she chose to do so. She left the farm when she was sixteen and moved to Chicago to live with relatives. This was also the time she started smoking, a decision that would ultimately end her ability to create her own destiny. After a marriage and divorce, a tough decision in those times but one she felt compelled to make, she rejoined her folks who had moved to Seattle to help them run a small grocery store. And there she met “dear old Dad”. Dad was just home from World War II and looked “very dashing in his uniform” according to Mom. You should see the picture she kept by her bed until her death. They married and took off to create their own life together. Dad’s background was in road construction and he and Mom started their own company. My Dad was quick to tell you that Mom was the brains behind the outfit and he just provided the labor. Mom ran the business. She made the financial decisions and started preparing for our future. She invested in rental property and built a very substantial rental income which provided security for her and Dad. Mom passed away financially independent. Oh, by the way, during this time she raised two successful children, kept a comfortable home, went to school and became a Registered Nurse. Dad developed Alzheimer’s shortly after his retirement and Mom was his primary care giver until his death many years later. Mom’s foresight in developing the rental business made life for them comfortable. Dad passed away at home with my Mom in 1993. The thing for which I am most proud of my Mom and perhaps her most important lesson to us was that after Dad died she was able to regroup and continue to live a life of her own choosing. She sold all her rental property, relocated to Salem to be near my Sister and built four new rental homes. She took computer lessons, kept the books on the rental business, helped out at the assisted living facility (she said “old” people were so much fun), traveled and continued to drive, much to the chagrin of my Sister. Mom was completely self sufficient. However at 80 years old her decision to smoke got her. She had quit smoking at 75 but it was too late. She developed pneumonia and went to the hospital. Mom, ever making her own decisions, convinced the Doctors to let her come home. We got Hospice involved and when they explained the Physician Assisted Dying option to her it was an easy decision for my Mom. It gave her a chance to create her own destiny to the end. The misery my Mom would have suffered without that option is unthinkable as her physical independence was completely gone. On September 22 after complying with all the laws requirements my Mom made her last decision and died with dignity in her own home with her family present. My Sister, brother in law and I agree that to have not supported Mom in exercising that option would have been totally and unbelievably selfish. The Physician Assisted Dying option is not for everyone, as a matter of fact, few people exercise it. But to take it away is denying the ones for whom it makes sense the opportunity to live life on their own terms.
	Letting My Father Go by Daniel Sapon-Borson, Oregon, 9/15/2005 Last month, my father in Los Angeles unexpectedly stopped breathing during the night. My mother called the paramedics immediately, but by the time they arrived, his brain had been without oxygen for several minutes. By the time I got down there, he was on life support in the respiratory intensive care unit. We waited all weekend for the prognosis from the doctors, and when we finally got it after three days, it was not good. They said that he might live, but he would never be "all there" (my words, not theirs). My mother, brother and I were faced with the decision of whether or not to disconnect life support. Fortunately, my parents had drafted living wills, and when I read my father's, it was obvious that we needed to discontinue life support. His body expired less than 2 hours later, and he was given ample doses of pain medication, just in case he should have enough brain activity to experience pain. I still grieve, and it is very painful to be without him. However, it would have been far more painful to watch him "hanging on", even though there was virtually no hope of him ever being able to talk to us again.
	my loving father by kimberly, missouri, 9/7/2005 it was in 1992 when my dad's hand started shaking. not knowing what to do, he went to the doc. they ran test after test. until later on they detected why his hand was shaking. it was als. i had to watch my 6'2' tall dad being fed, bathed and taken to the bathroom. on that morning in april of 1994 i had been awoken up by my mom. she said the ambulance had taken dad to the hospital. we went there. he was not conscious. i talked to him, held his hand. docs gave him about 48 hrs. he make that. on the afternoon of that day, my dad passed away. it was the saddest day of my life. i never wish that disease on my worst enemy. it took my dad away from my family. at least i know that he is looking down with the lord. and that makes me feel better.
	My Brother's Tribute by Salvador Bishop, Australia, 8/17/2005 At the age of eight I lost a friend I know there isn’t another like him He was kind and we loved each other I still can’t believe a dope attic took my brother He was only six and on his birth day, the city police found his body in the worst way I try to think sometimes it’s not true But ignoring your brothers’ death is too hard to do Sometimes I sit and cry and reminisce I ask myself why did he have to die like this? But I know one day ill see him again Inside my heart is where I keep my kin I love my brother and still love him to this day I just wish on this earth is were he stayed Never do things always go good But now heaven is his hood I remember the days were we played around We used to play wrestle until we both hit the ground Those days are over and I wish I had them again This poetry is dedicated to my brother My brother who is my best friend.
	If I only knew... by Yomery Santana, New York, 6/27/2005 If I only knew chemotherapy would be in vain, I would have never allowed it. If I only knew Radiation was just going to burn her, I would have prohibited. If I only knew there would be no miracle for her, I would have stopped hoping. If there have only been Assisted Suicide laws in the New York States, we would have known what to do. If I only knew my mom would endure so much pain before she parted, I would opted to move to Oregon to exercise her right to die in peace. My 39-year-old mom had terminal cancer and endured the slowest, most devastating painful dying process I have ever seen. She would ask God to take her, that’s how bad it had gotten. We felt helpless and hopeless!
	My Dad's Strength and Endurance Became His Curse by Teresa Boze, Illinois, 6/12/2005 My dad was an ox: strong, bull-necked, undwindling physical energy, compact and deceptively hardy. The kind of guy that, once you knew him, you might suspect of being able to pull a train with a rope in his teeth. He was no wimp or stranger to pain, as a previous Golden Gloves boxer with his share of injuries arthritis. My father died this week. It was a long death, drawn out by the usually desirable trait of having the constitution of an ox turning against him to keep him alive long beyond endurance. The finally cruel strength of his 77-year-old body forced him into unnecessary months of excruciating pain with only the hope of death for release. Even while in hospice the philosophy of “conservative pain medication” over-rode any opportunity for a few pain-free or much-pain-reduced moments before he left this world. It reduced him to a state of every moment pain involvement. This was the kind of pain described as 9 to 10 on the top of the pain scale. For the last year his muscles contracted so hard he was constantly over heated and sweating from the effort and his joints fused; he was unable to swallow for the last six months; the slightest adjustment to clean him or turn him or dress his wounds on his 90 lbs skeletal frame causing grimaces of nightmarish torture on his face. His bull-neck tendons became whipcords, popping out in gross exaggeration in the strain to endure. The disease that took him was at first misdiagnosed, as is very common for the disease: Diffuse Lewy Body. It looks like Alzheimers at first, but has the added components of a schizophrenic aspect--blessedly benign in manifestation—and Parkinsonism—shaking and loss of muscle control. This disease has the especially ugly trait of non-treatment as well; try to treat either the physical aspects or the mental, and it exacerbates the other. By the last months, my mother fought frantically and impotently, to ease him. There was no answer to providing that ease, and no dignity; clipping his nails was too painful for the nurses to justify. When Dad was first diagnosed, I was living in Portland and campaigned for a mass, family move, knowing by experience that a more progressive attitude about pain, therapy, care, and hospice existed in Oregon. While my father had spent time in California and knew that there was a huge difference between what passed for compassionate medical Illinois and the West Coast, the rest of the family had no exposure to the world beyond Central Illinois and its standards and morals. Also, grievously, Dad’s insurance—considered the top-line corporate group insurance provided in Central Illinois—lost most of its benefit options and deductibles outside of Illinois. In Dad’s depleting condition, he did not have the support of the rest of those around him, his supposedly-expansion insurance, or the medical community to make the move to a better environment in Portland. I knew from conversations with my father that he lived enough to be able to accept inevitable death, and preferred not to expose himself, his family, or the long-and-hard-earned nest egg he created from his life’s work to a ravaging end. His end was not his choice or how he wanted to die. When Dad died, I could feel his serenity at release. No one is overly mournful. We celebrate his freedom from the unrelenting torture.
	My Mother by Lynda L., Pennsylvania, 5/31/2005 Two days ago we (siblings and I) watched my 81 year old mother die from pancreatic cancer. We were told she would die peacefully by hospice. It took over a day for her to stop breathing which was unbearable to us. The "death rattle" was scary and seemed painful. Why can't we simply administer an injection to a terminally ill person who begs to end their suffering??
	Mother's Love by Cassie, Texas, 4/25/2005 In June of last year my mother, 52 years old, passed away of kidney cancer. Her death is something I will always remember. I was fortunate enough to care for her the last 3 years of her life. After 3 surgeries, and every medicine the doctors could get their hands on didn’t work, we realized there was nothing we could do but give her all the support and love possible. She was in a nursing home for a week and they made her lay in her own vomit and urine. When she was admitted to the hospital we were so blessed that we got a hospice nurse who was very sympathetic to what was going on. She gave my mom so many pain killers that deep down I could all most swear that she did of a drug over dose. That’s okay with me though because I saw more pain in her eyes then I had ever seen before. She would look at me at nights and just repeat "I'm ready to go, I'm sick of fighting" I wish that DWD was legal everywhere but my family was lucky enough that we experienced a very peaceful last few days and the only way I would change it is if she could have died at home. I know that the last night of my mothers life was peaceful and my entire family got to share it.
	Pain in the Eyes of a Child by Danielle Rhodes, Ohio, 4/17/2005 When I was only 10 years old, I watched the slow death of my 29-year-old mother. It's hard for me to talk about it even now, and I still haven't heard all of the stories six years later. She died at a hospital in Cleveland, tubes and wires coming out of her like a 'battery', as I remember putting it once. She suffered for many years before this last visit and permanent stay. My aunt told me that because of one of her problems she would sometimes have sores that nearly went through her feet. In the end, she had a hole in her lung the size of a baseball, and most of her organs were in failure. She went into the operating room for a procedure that they thought would help her. The only thing it did was put her in a coma-like state. I never really got to say good-bye to her, even when I was there to watch her die. A piece of me still wishes I could have had one last kiss, one last hug, one last 'I love you' before she went into surgery - one last anything. My aunt said that the only thing my mother wanted more than to live was to see me going to my first school dance, but she never did. It would have meant a lot to me if she would have had the choice to die without pain. Instead, the ventilator was pulled out, and she was starved of air. It's the hardest thing in the world for a child to watch and lose a parent in such a way. It's just as bad as losing them to a car crash. I hope the people in Ohio, the 'Christians' as they are so called, who are willing to shoot a horse if it has a broken leg or put down the family dog, will eventually see through their god complexes and let these people die with the peace of mind that they were able to say goodbye, that they were in no pain, and that their families were comforted or at least at peace. Every time the argument comes up in class, I'm never quieted. From years of pain we must rise above and protect those we love. RIGHT TO LIVE, CHOICE TO DIE!!!
	Losing the Love of My Life by Susan C., California, 3/22/2005 Nine years ago, my husband was on a list for a heart transplant. While waiting, he suffered a massive heart attack. He was taken to the hospital and he was unable to speak, but he knew I was there. I would squeeze his hand and he would squeeze my back. I asked the doctors what the chances for his recovery were and they told me that he had suffered permanent damage. I then had to do the hardest thing I had ever done, and that was to give the doctors his Advanced Care Directive. I told them that he was to be kept pain free, but that they were to let him go peacefully. I held his hand and kissed him goodbye as he closed his eyes for the last time. I too have health issues and my family has my Advanced Care Directive.
	For Sherrill by Beau B., Louisiana, 3/14/2005 I wholeheartedly support death with dignity especially after watching my beautiful 47 year old wife slowly die from cancer in the hospital for five long agonizing days, watching and waiting as her breathing got shallower and her heartbeat and pulse weakened and her poor body soaked in sweat. As I watched the last carotid pulse in her neck take its final beat, in that last moment her left hand that I had been holding for hours moved and brought my hand toward her heart. Her death was not easy to watch but at that moment I was relieved. Anyone who would have witnessed the way she died and been there the entire time could not possibly want themselves or any loved one to go that way. Keep up the fight for all of us.
	Dad Had to Fight to Die by Pamela H., Wyoming, 11/21/2004 In October of 2004, my loving father developed an ishchemic leg condition, he was 72, had an A-Fib heart condition, high blood pressure and was a heavy smoker. He was a retired farmer, his hands were rough and calloused from the work he did throughout his life, he was intelligent and had a mean streak. He retired to Oregon, he loved the coast, to crab, boat, fish and take walks along the beach with his dog Sam. When he was rushed to the E.R. at a hospital in Portland with advanced vascular disease, I drove 22 hours to meet him there. When I arrived, he was on a ventilator to empty the fluid in his lungs, heavily sedated, with tubes coming from everywhere. Then we decided to let them amputate one half of his left leg. It developed an infection. He told me repeatedly that he wanted to just go home and die. After fighting the ethics committee and the vascular team, he was finally discharged to a hospice. It was a horrible thing, my dad wanted to die peacefully, his quality of life was not going to be as he wanted it, we knew dad, his legs were his livelihood. Thank God for the Hopewell House staff in Portland, they made his last day and a half comfortable. I will have nightmares of his 3 week suffering forever, he was in so much pain. I have since made out my advance directive, word for word, nothing general. These young interns want to save you even if they have to kill you in the process! Keep up the good work. P.S.: I am a Christian, and God made life and death, they were created to be equally beautiful.
	Comforted by Oregon's Law by Adrienne D., New Mexico, 11/20/2004 In 2002, my Mother at 90 years of age, was one of 38 people to take advantage of Oregon’s Death with Dignity law. Because physician-assisted suicide is legal in Oregon, the process of dealing with death was made easier because we could talk about end-of-life care issues with the doctors. I went to be with my mother in December 2001, when her younger sister was dying, I learned then that Mom had cancer. In July 2002, we learned that the cancer was terminal. As a palliative measure Mom started chemotherapy to try to relieve the pain caused by the tumor. However the pain was so great that Mom wanted to stop chemotherapy. We then visited a pain specialist at which time Mom made her first verbal request for a prescription under the DWD law and immediately started on hospice. Mom was a very private person who didn’t talk about her feelings. However she had spent the previous year with her dying sister and I knew that Mom didn’t want to be bedridden and filled with pain drugs as her sister had been. So, for her to make this request really signified that she was ready - she had been healthy all her life until the last year. Mom was able to write some farewell letters to her friends. She helped to plan her memorial service with her minister. My brother and his wife were able to come to Oregon too. I cherish those last two months I shared with Mom. The night before her death, I was at her bedside the entire night. At one point I put my head down and she said, “Adrienne, don’t cry, I am alright”. I also heard her say in her semi sleep state, “I love you all”. I guessed correctly that she was practicing for the next morning when she planned to take the dose of drugs. On September 5, 2002, surrounded by her two children and their spouses, her minister and two Compassion in Dying volunteers she said. “I love you all” before taking that final bit of medication. Within a few minutes she was unconscious. And, within 15 minutes she was pronounced dead. This was a profound experience for her family and minister. The family was comforted by the doctors. The fact that this was a legal procedure made this a very positive experience instead of a lonely, scary one. Looking back I realize that this was one of the very few times that Mom really did something for herself. She was always caring for others. I miss her, but I am so glad that she lived in Oregon and had the choice of death with dignity.
	This is the People's Law! by Christopher H., Oregon, 11/9/2004 One year ago, on September 20th, 2003, my big sister, Amie, died of terminal breast cancer. I come from a family of twelve children; I am the ninth of twelve, she was the seventh. I thought that seven was supposed to be a lucky number, however, as it was, her number came up. My family and I watched my sister die a very painful death -- her chest rising as she took her final breath. It is a huge loss when a family looses someone they love so dear, the emptiness is not easily filled. However, there is luck in death if one is mercilously in agonizing pain. That luck -- for terminally ill Oregonians -- comes in the form of our popularly supported Death with Dignity law. This law, if lost, will be a grave loss for those suffering and wanting the right to choose their destiny with this essential humane legislative option. My sister didn`t choose to utilize DWD, but the option was ever present on her mind as she pondered her last moments, from her death bed. The luck in my sister`s death was that Oregonians saw it necessary to grant her the peace of mind in knowing that DWD was there for her in the event she so chose to use it. Throughout our state, others -- like my sister -- should have the luck not to lose our Death with Dignity law. While Ashcroft is resigning (with hopefully others to follow) and it seems as though we have `em on the run, we should remain vigilant and on task, we don`t know that this fight is over. Please, Take a moment to oppose the Attorney General`s DWD intrusions and affirm that this is our law!
	My Journey by Antoinette L., New York, 11/1/2004 I am a widow, and have seen what cancer and AIDS can do to a person first hand. I have lost my husband and several members of my family to terminal illnesses. It is a heart-breaking and difficult thing to watch your loved one's body, mind, and spirit slowly taken away from them. There are many things they no longer have control of, but being able to choose to die with dignity should be something they can control. There comes a point when you no longer have a life, forget about quality of life. When hospitals, doctors, medications, tests, and treatments is your life. When all you have is constant pain and misery, and machines keeping you alive just to suffer through another day, is that a life? I believe that anyone who is against allowing people death with dignity should have to spend time with the terminally ill - so that they can see first-hand the amount of pain and suffering that they must endure.
	I Believe in Your Law by Harriet S., Pennsylvania, 10/22/2004 My brother-in-law is dying from pulmonary fibrosis. He is now under hospice care. He states he feels like he is "being smothered, and if he had the nerve he would get his gun and kill himself." I believe in your law and this should be available throughout this country. To see this man suffer, kills me.
	A Tribute to My Mother by Betty C., Oregon, 10/21/2004 Ten years ago, my mother was a dialysis patient. She knew that without a kidney transplant she would die. When the death with dignity law was on the ballot, she voted for it and urged her adult children to do the same. We did. She died shortly after its passage. I will fight to keep this one on the books.
	My Husband Rick by Nora M., Oregon, 10/13/2004 I always believed that my husband was one in a million. But in 1999, he was one in 27. That year 30,000 people died in Oregon. Of those 30,000 people, twenty-seven—less than one-tenth of one percent—chose a quiet death in the company of their families after taking a legal, lethal dose of drugs permitted by Oregon’s Death with Dignity Law. Rick was a gentle, practical person, very private, very family oriented. When we found out in April of 1999 that he had inoperable lung cancer, he knew he faced a slow, debilitating decline, possibly ending up totally dependent and incoherent. He immediately stated his intention to exercise his right to die under the law. I supported his decision. During a summer of chemotherapy, he lost one battle after another. His voice dropped to a whisper from a tumor near his throat. The treatments left him nauseated and listless. His days, once spent working hard in the woods, now focused on the few creature comforts he had left. He grew thin, and bony, and his Irish red hair came out in handfuls. In the fall, we found that this sad effort had been for nothing—the cancer spread voraciously. The doctor suggested hospice—“why beat yourself up any more” he asked. A final defeat in a summer full of them. By the time the rains started in October, Rick felt he had had enough. He asked his doctor to write the prescription. The doctor agreed, saying that he considered Rick an appropriate candidate for Death with Dignity—not depressed, well supported by his family, with well-managed pain and solid financial resources. And unequivocally terminal. With the prescription in hand, we talked about when and how and whether to make the decision. A growing brain tumor had begun to interfere with his selection of words, but Rick made it clear that he still wanted to choose the time of his death for himself. One night in early November, he told me to go buy some applesauce. I understood what he meant—in those days; the prescription involved 90 Seconal tablets mixed with applesauce to make it somewhat palatable. He meant he was ready to go. I resisted, at first, but when I listened honestly to his words and looked objectively at his face, I knew he had made his decision and that it was the right one for him. He was calm and more relaxed than I had seen him in weeks. With his loving family around him for support, he took the bowl and emptied it in a few quick bites. The medication flooded his system so quickly that I had to take the spoon from his fingers. His breathing grew deep and slow. It took about an hour. When I knew he was gone, I felt a wash of emotions— love, loss, relief, emptiness. But I also found comfort and even satisfaction in the knowledge that I had helped my husband when he needed it most. I saw our experience as a difficult but loving last gift to each other. Frankly, the point here is not that a man died. His death was inevitable. The point is that he died a Good Death. Once you accept the fact of death, you can move on to address the quality of that death. It can be hard or easy, good or bad. For some, it makes all the difference to have the choice. My mother didn’t have a choice. She lived in Vermont at the time of her death. She could not choose to end her life while she still recognized her daughters around her. She could only wait for death to come to her, without even the comfort of the morphine pills she could no longer swallow. If she were dying today, she still would not have a choice, unless Vermonters decide to follow Oregon’s lead and secure this choice for their loved ones. My sister didn’t have a choice. She lived in Florida when she fell victim to esophageal cancer. In a mere six weeks, she slid into a state of confusion and weakness aggravated by weight loss and morphine. She didn’t know her children were there, holding her hands as she took her last breath. Florida can prevent this kind of sad death, and make painful court battles like the one over Terri Schiavo unnecessary. They can pass a law like Oregon’s and secure this choice for the people who need it. My husband did have a choice. Because he lived in Oregon, he died when he was ready to, with little pain and in the loving embrace of his family. If Rick could speak to you, I believe that he would tell you that Oregon’s Death with Dignity law WORKS for the people who need it. It represents the best American ideals of individual liberty and personal responsibility. Speak for him now and work to affirm this right in your state and for people all across the country.
	Tribute to Patients' Rights Advocate Myrtle Brickman by Noreen Marcus7/9/2004 Myrtle Brickman, a retired government economist and stockbroker who wielded a mighty pen for the rights of sick and dying people, died Friday of cancer at her Pompano Beach home. She was 85. Her name should be familiar to readers of letters to newspaper editors, with whom she maintained a lively, if one-sided, correspondence. She was an editor herself, of The Beacon, the newsletter of the group End of Life Choices (formerly the Hemlock Society). And she didn't mince words. "The prohibition of medical marijuana is the stupidest thing since the Spanish Inquisition," she wrote to The Miami Herald in October 2002. In private life she was a non-aggressive, warm and generous person, said Harry Brickman, her husband of 55 years. "She had a heart that was easily touched," he said. "She couldn't tolerate the notion that people lying in bed dying of cancer were denied this mild type of painkiller." She was born Myrtle Singer in Atlantic City, N.J. In 1936, when she was 17, she moved to Washington, D.C., to take a job as a stenographer and typist with the federal government. She knew education would improve her position and worked hard to get it, according to her husband. "The thing she was proudest of was the fact that she put herself through college, nobody helped her, and she did it at night, all the way through to a master's degree," he said. Mrs. Brickman earned her bachelor's degree from George Washington University and received her master's degree in economics from American University in Washington, D.C. During World War II she worked for the war agency that controlled exports, "making sure the enemy didn't get any," her husband said. Afterward she joined the international trade section of the Department of Commerce, where she rose to the second-highest professional rank, he said. Also after the war she met Harry Brickman, a fellow government employee. She was divorced at the time. "She was not happy being a single lady," he said, "so when we met she thought I was the cat's meow." They settled in Virginia but established a snowbird relationship with Florida. Eventually Mrs. Brickman switched to the private sector. For many years, until her 1984 retirement, she was a stockbroker with the Dean Witter firm. In 1990, when the Brickmans moved to Pompano Beach, Mrs. Brickman went looking for something meaningful to do. "She wasn't about to sit around and let things happen around her," her husband said. She had read Final Exit by Derek Humphry, founder of the Hemlock Society, and was inspired to champion the right of terminally ill, mentally competent adults to hasten death with assistance. She zestfully took on pundits and columnists who held opposing views. "Columnist Cal Thomas did not do his homework regarding doctor-assisted suicide," she wrote in a letter to the South Florida Sun-Sentinel published Nov. 27, 1994. "Talking about the Dutch experience, he quotes some obviously false numbers from a book so obscure that the main Fort Lauderdale library could find no record of it." Starting at the Hemlock Society's state level, Mrs. Brickman became active in the national organization, where she served on the board and was treasurer until illness forced her to resign early this year. In addition to her husband, she is survived by a brother, Allen Singer, of Potomac, Md., and two sisters, Gloria Schwartz of Bethesda, Md., and Claire Shinderman of Pompano Beach. There were no services.
	So Glad I Know Now... by Jen, New York, 12/11/2003 I am a social work student in New York and chose to write a research paper on physician assisted suicide. It was not long after I began my research that I realized the growing need for this law to be legalized throughout our country. After working with ill individuals and the research I have done, I believe that this legislation should be implemented in our society. We live in a society that fears death and plays with life so obviously this issue sparks much debate. The simple way to look at this issue is to truly understand suffering and compassion for those in need. Physicians need to be made aware of their options to help their patients (in a legal manner)and stop helping themselves to attempts to continuously "save" individuals who do not want to be. In time I believe knowledge of pain & suffering, PAS, and changing laws will allow many good souls to rest peacefully in a manner they chose.
	Diane's Story of Living Life with Breast Cancer by Lyn B., New York, 10/27/2003 I lost my dear sister Diane to breast cancer on July 18, 2002, at the age of 52. Before Diane died she wanted so much to share her story with the world in hopes that her experiences with breast cancer would help others. She spent many weeks in her bed at home and later at hospice typing on an old laptop and always said "that if no one wants it that’s fine too, but it could be very therapeutic just to put it all down for once in a human experience sort of way." I sincerely believe, that even in death, Diane is helping so many people dealing with this dreaded disease through her last thoughts and words: June of 2002 - and I have had another recurrence of the breast cancer. This time it is in my bones and my organs and in the bones in my face. It has not entered the brain as best they can see and that may or may not mean some time for me, but whatever happens I am going to go out of this life the way that I came in, with dignity. I have been informed that there is no way to know how long I will have to fight this in the terminal stages. It could be months and it could be longer, but I have to accept whatever God has prepared for me now and prepare my family and friends for my passing. July of 2002 - There are many things I would have liked to have seen before I die and do before then also, but I am not physically able to do much of anything anymore so I focus on leaving my family in a place with some comfort zone in it when I can no longer be here to make that for them. Thank you for listening and my very best to you and all of your visitors. Very Sincerely, Diane's brother
	My Dad's Ordeal in 1983 by Sue M., Washington, 10/25/2003 My dad was diagnosed with prostate cancer in 1979. They didn't have much in the way of treatment back then. He had surgery, radiation and chemo. The cancer exacerbated and ended up in his lungs by 1983. There was nothing else to be done, there wasn't the technology or medical knowledge that has been developed since then for early diagnosis and care. My mother called all four of us children and told us the doctor had released him from care as there was nothing more he could do for him. He told him to go home and prepare to die. My dad deteriorated rapidly after that. My brother and I live in Washington and my two sisters live in Oregon. We all went home to help mother with the care of my dad. I quit my job and left my children in the care of my husband and cousins to stay with my dad until the end. We had no idea when that would be. It took about six weeks. We were on our own. We did have hospice help, but all the nurse could do was show us how to administer the pain shots and tell us how to care for his physical needs such as bathing and keeping him as comfortable as possible. She ordered an oxygen tank and a hospital bed for us. I didn't know it at the time but the procedure that we were coping with is described in your fact and fiction section. Now I know it is called terminal sedation and dehydration. We didn't know anything about that and it wasn't explained to us. My sister and I went to the doctor and begged him to put a feeding tube in so our dad wouldn't starve to death. All the doctor said was that would just prolong his death. He didn't explain about the dehydration and terminal sedation. By this time he was not responding or drinking liquids. I think we were in denial at that point. He was semi-conscious at this point and we knew he was suffering. We had no clue if we were giving him enough pain medication or too much. We were all scared and upset. I kept calling the nurse and asking her "how do we know if we are over-dosing him or not?" She told us to use our judgment. We were not qualified to use our judgment. If only we had been given more information and reassurance that we were not doing anything wrong. If only there had been the openness and information we needed available. It was the hardest thing I have ever been through. For months after he died, I would be driving around just wishing there was someone to talk to about what happened to us. I had a very hard time coming to terms with feeling guilty and wondering if we had done things right. I am glad that Oregon is the first state to deal with this problem openly. I wish it would have been different for us.
	I Made a Difference by Erin, Indiana, 9/28/2003 I described the death of my father to a class of people who were extremely religious and very much against death with dignity. After describing what had happened to my father and how he died of ALS most of the people in the class changed their mind to support the issue. I can change minds one at a time. If I don't at least they can see the other side.
	Tribute to Jim Romney 5/14/2003 Jim Romney was a courageous man who chose to fight a very personal battle with ALS in a very public way so that his life could teach and remind others of the importance of Oregon's Death with Dignity law. From the time that our staff first met Jim and realized that as a legal defense and political organization we needed to refer him to our colleagues at Compassion In Dying for patient support, Jim was a presence that we all knew would have an impact on this movement. Once he understood how his personal struggle with terminal illness would progress, he became a public figure, joining other patient plaintiffs in one of the suits brought against Attorney General John Ashcroft's November 2001 directive. Along with the State of Oregon, and our own case on behalf of physicians and pharmacists, Jim's role was invaluable - reminding us all that no matter how nuanced the law, no matter how many procedural questions are asked in a courtroom, ultimately, the Death with Dignity law is about people. Brave people like Jim Romney. Jim understood that this law is really about having the control to live life to its fullest. He did just that and the world is a much better place for it.
	Letter from Hawai'i by La'akea, Hawai'i, 3/3/2002 The legislature is currently debating the very same topic that was the subject of a Honolulu Advertiser article some years back. The following contains quotes from that article and knowledge taught to me by my grandmother. I expand on this now and send it out so that we may be aware of this part of our culture. "If moderns knew what the ancient Hawai’ians knew, they would not be waging court battles over when a person should be allowed to die - or debating whether or not to pull the plugs on machines that perform vital functions for comatose patients. Because life-prolonging techniques have finally advanced from the humane to the grotesque, today's doctors, lawyers, judges, legislators and laymen circle warily around the question of whether or when to allow 'death with dignity.' "Meanwhile, terminal patients who are wracked with bouts of pain, others who no longer have functioning lungs or brains, and some who are permanently unconscious live for months, even years. Modern science now has the mechanical means to support such lives at any cost; and to most families the cost is shattering. The Hawai’ians managed things differently. Observers, past and present, say they literally could choose a day, say next Tuesday, and announce to their loved ones that they would expire on that day. By the following Tuesday, they would have died in peace. Some were ailing. Some were not. The living, who observed the phenomenon during the reign of Kamehameha III, had a phrase for it: 'Na kanaka oku'u wale aku no i kau uhane (The people dismissed freely their souls and died'" [The above is from the beginning of an article in the Honolulu Advertiser, dated Thursday, June 24, 1976, written by Mary Cooke]. The article went on to say that this extraordinary ability to determine one's death was well documented by early observers and that it was still being practiced in rural areas.  It quoted John Dominis Holt as saying: ”Hawai’ians did not consider this suicide. It's simply an ability to reduce the bodily functions to the lowest ebb. In yoga you take it so far and stop.” Napua Stevens said, "It is not spoken of now as openly as it was in the past. It's a private matter and the person would rather do it quietly. The family knows but they don't tell a lot of people about it because then others come in with al kinds of hang-ups: 'You should have done this, you should have done that.' Modern life doesn't allow for a lot of the old thinking. They (Hawaiians) came from a very wise people." Dr. Benjamin B.C. Young, part-Hawai’ian psychiatrist and director of the Native Hawai’ian Center of Excellence at UH's school of medicine, said he has seen cases in which mana of a patient's family helped toward recovery and this ability to slow all the bodily functions down to death may be exclusively Polynesian. There is no explanation, medically or psychologically. Science has not presented any other explanation. My grandmother, Mary Kawena Puku'i said that in our traditions, the death thought may be implanted by the aumakua; unihipili or kahuna ana'ana and the body response would be the same for all three. One would be in somewhat of a hypnotic state. The summons may come in  'akaku, or vision trance. She said that the likelihood of getting the death summons from deceased relatives is greater among Hawai’ians than Caucasians because we believe in 'ohana, the extended family, and so there is no end of family members who could summon a Hawai’ian. To us, 'ohana is 'ohana and includes all the roots and branches of the family. One would always have some aumakua. In contrast, the haole goes only so far and then he's not related anymore. There are many stories in our family, as I'm sure there are in everyone's, of this kind of thing. My great, great, great grandmother chose to die so that a nephew could live. My great grandmother was summoned by unihipili, as her last words were, “What is this place?  Where are you taking me?’ My grandmother said she felt her deceased father's presence. My grandfather Puku'i's sister had a series of stillborn children and a kahuna said a male in her family must give up his life for her to bear live children. My grandfather and his brother were young men, but an uncle, who was aged, volunteered to do so, unbeknownst to her. As she was in the hospital, giving birth to her first live child, he was also there, dying. Because of this, I have many cousins today, descended from her. These things today would seem to be, to most people, strange, coincidental, exaggerated, unbelievable, made-up stories, etc. Why would people do this thing? We must understand that for us it was a matter of going back to our people, our ancestors, and there was no resistance.  In days of old, man, Gods and nature were very close and the curtain between living and dead was woven of cobwebs. The truth is that the curtain is still cobweb thin. The fact is that there was much wisdom and the so-called "supernatural" was actually quite natural. It is when all turn their backs on things and don't believe them anymore that they have, by their own actions, made that determination. There are so many things of truth and wonder in this land of aloha. I again repeat my grandmother's words; "Some things must change, but some things never change. That's the way it's always been; that's how we grow." My fond aloha to all.
	The Personal and Professional Perspective by Mary C., MSW, LCSW, Louisiana, 12/13/2001 I am putting a check in the mail today because I firmly believe that your actions are extremely important for everyone in the country. I am a social worker and I have worked with many terminally ill patients. I have seen the results of physicians who are too afraid to prescribe narcotics. I have seen the pain on the faces of patients and I have felt the pain in the hearts of their families. My father, who is an 87-year-old retired surgeon, has been preaching to me about death with dignity since I was a teenager. He was even on a debate on television back in the early 1970's defending his decision to "pull the plug" on his own mother. So I have a background in this area. I am back in school working on a Ph.D. in social work and I have done extensive research on palliative care. I understand the need to allow individuals to leave this life in as little pain as possible. I honestly believe that the people making the laws to block death with dignity have never sat at the bedsides of terminally ill people or sat in the homes, holding hands with the family members while their loved ones scream in agony in the other room. And trying to explain to a patient in pain why their doctor is too afraid to write a prescription for pain medication for fear of being "busted for dealing in narcotics" would be too ludicrous to consider if it wasn't true. Please keep me informed as to anything I can do to help block Ashcroft from his intended actions. I have already emailed him and my Congressmen/women, through the "Death with Dignity" site. And I have sent a check in the mail to help fight this. Thank you for doing what you do and please keep doing it. I can only hope that my own state and others will eventually allow their terminally ill the same option. As it stands now, I do know a few brave physicians, but with the laws changing everyday, the future is uncertain.
	Ready with My Choice When My Time Comes by Katherine L., Oregon, 12/13/2001 Dear ODWD: Each time I read your letters, or respond to your requests for funding assistance, I am so very grateful to every one of you for your wisdom-guided efforts to safeguard Oregon citizens’ right to choose when and how the very personal moment of death should come to us. I was diagnosed with MS eleven years ago at the age of 38. The initial attack affected my legs, optic nerve, and worst of all, overall body strength. Alternative healing practices (stress reduction, meditation, acupuncture, removal of root canals and mercury amalgam fillings) stopped the MS attacks. Over the years I gradually regained my health and strength, to the point the last few years where I was taking 8-10 mile hikes, weight training regularly at the gym, and maintaining all home and yard work. I had my life back. I really thought I had this disease beat. However, in December of 1999, the MS struck again after a serious cold/flu, this time in the form of vertigo, severe migraines, major short-term memory and mental acuity loss, and incapacitating body fatigue and weakness. The MRI taken in April 2000 shows it is attacking the myelin in my brain this time. This has been a very sobering year, as I reconciled with once again facing this healing challenge. Under the guidance of my current doctor, during the past five months I have already made tremendous progress to regain my health. I am very fortunate to have not only a brilliant and caring physician, but the total love and support of family and friends. Although I have great hope for once again beating this latest attack of the disease, I know there are no guarantees for the future. I guess you could say the blessing of this illness has been the constant reminder to cherish each and every moment I have been given on this beautiful earth. When the MS first hit, I took full responsibility for my healing process. I intend to do the same regarding my eventual death. Since this second attack, I now understand more clearly the possible (many say inevitable) downward direction this illness may take. I understand the incapacitation may take many forms, both mental and physical. You can therefore understand the personal relevance of YOUR work. Even though I don’t know if I will utilize the law, I want to be ready, with MY choice, when the time comes. I know the level of participation in life – mentally, spiritually, physically, emotionally—that I believe I need to continue as a valuable and contributing member of earth’s family. I feel very strongly about preserving the right to make my final, very private choice of leaving this beautiful planet in peace, with dignity. Once more, thank you all for your continuing work.
	Pain Medication is Often Not Enough by Linda K., New Jersey, 12/13/2001 My siblings and I watched our mother die a horrific death from throat cancer. No one can appreciate the value of physician-assisted suicide without such an experience. Mom spent her last days begging us over and over to help her die. With a trach inserted, she silently mouthed desperate words, and her frenzied handwriting pleaded to “make it quick and easy.” She had no pain. Instead, she was terrorized by thoughts of slowly suffocating. But her death would be worse. The cancer was wrapped around her neck blood vessels, so her death was a race between her brain slowly exploding in one stroke after another when blood could not drain from her head, or her heart exploding trying to pump blood into her head. She made the choice to stop hydration and food. Because she was well nourished, she did not lose consciousness in the 2 days, nor die in the 7 days that the doctor predicted. The doctor, fearful of being jailed for causing her death, severely under-medicated her and she kept waking up in her death agony. We spent weeks hoping her body would give out before the cancer could slowly squeeze her to death. It was torture for everyone, but especially for Mom. Those who say that pain medication and psychiatric help is all that is needed to help someone facing death have it all wrong. Neither would be of any use to my mother. Modern society has already tinkered with life by inventing antibiotics and other life saving procedures. We have eradicated most of the quick killers, leaving humans with slow, torturous deaths. To help people die “quick and easy” is as important as helping them in birth.

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