Reflections on a Final Farewell
A wave of guilt washed over me when I realized I hadn’t brought a farewell gift for Mrs. MacNeil. Maybe I should’ve thought of flowers or a small teddy bear. It felt like a missed opportunity to express my sentiments, especially since this was our last goodbye.
I was visiting my 93-year-old patient at her seniors’ home in Toronto. Over the years, our connection felt more like a friendship than just a professional relationship.
We shared laughs and conversations about life’s beauty, discussing the wonderful places we’d both experienced and the lovely people we’d met. Nova Scotia often came up, as it was our shared home.
This would be our last meeting. Mrs. MacNeil was set to receive medical assistance in dying, known as MAID in Canada.
It’s common to consider euthanasia for our pets when they’re suffering; we want them to pass peacefully. The term comes from the Greek word “euthanatos,” meaning “good death.” We do this out of love, wishing for dignity in their final moments.
In 2016, Canada legalized MAID, allowing adults who meet certain criteria to seek an end to their suffering. The law enabled individuals to choose a dignified end to life, reflecting our understanding that death is a natural part of existence. It encourages conversations around mortality, allowing people to reject the notion of battling against death.
Mrs. MacNeil, a proud and independent woman, wanted to maintain control over her life. She had become aware of her declining health and wished for a graceful exit on her terms. Her medical condition was worsening, and after enduring considerable suffering, she decided she had enough support from her caregivers, friends, and family.
“She had no regrets whatsoever and was ready to disembark from her fantastic journey on this earth.”
She expressed that she had led a fulfilling life, traveling the world and forming deep friendships. Though her husband had passed away and she had no children, her nieces and nephews cherished her. She truly had no regrets and was prepared to conclude her journey. She proved her ability to make such a significant choice.
How could I possibly say no?
Though I felt honored, I couldn’t shake my own nerves. I was apprehensive; this was unfamiliar territory for me. The thought of witnessing such an intimate moment scared me, but I knew I wanted to be there for her.
As I nervously entered her suite, I took a deep breath. There she stood—polished and radiant. Her presence filled the room, and as soon as she saw me, her face lit up with a warm smile. It was clear that my role here was significant.
Mrs. MacNeil appeared genuinely happy—almost triumphant. After a warm hug, she thanked me for being there amidst family members and the physician who would perform the procedure. I introduced myself to everyone and felt relieved by their calmness and kindness.
Then, in a delightful twist, Mrs. MacNeil presented me with a gift—a wooden seagull wearing rubber boots she had held onto for many years.
“I thought you were the one I wanted to give this to,” she said with a sparkle in her eyes.
I felt a rush of emotions, hugging the seagull while cringing at my lack of a farewell gift. Despite my initial surprise, I assured her I’d treasure it and remember her fondly.
As the doctor prepared the medications, I was left wondering how she would feel in those final moments. She appeared nervous yet relieved, all emotions swirling together.
When the family gathered around her bed for the last time, a serene atmosphere enveloped the room. It felt surreal, much like a child brimming with curiosity before a grand adventure.
The process of MAID was reiterated for the last time as she was asked, “Are you certain? There’s no turning back.”
“Yes,” she replied with a clarity that left no room for doubt.
Her mind was made up, and she radiated acceptance. I took my place beside her, holding her hand and gazing deeply into her eyes.
Whispering softly, I said, “I have a gift for you—it’s not a physical one, but you might recognize it…”
I began to sing “Farewell to Nova Scotia,” a beloved song from our homeland.
The sun was setting in the west
The birds were singing on every tree
All nature seemed inclined for rest
But still, there was no rest for meSo farewell to Nova Scotia, the seabound coast
Let your mountains dark and dreary be
For when I’m far away on the briny ocean tossed
Will you ever heave a sigh or a wish for me?
A serene smile blossomed on Mrs. MacNeil’s face, her eyes pinned on me throughout my song. I felt this was perhaps the most fitting tribute I could offer her.
The medications gradually flowed into her IV. With her eyes closed and that beautiful smile still present, she gently transitioned into eternal peace.
The room fell into silence as we all absorbed the profound moment that just unfolded. I found myself reaching for a tissue to catch the tears that had begun to form. Odd yet somehow right.
Some believe it’s wrong for healthcare professionals to determine who lives or dies. Yet, perhaps the conversation goes beyond morality. It’s about respecting individual autonomy and recognizing the choices each person makes regarding their own life. Ultimately, the perspective that matters most belongs to the one facing their own end—a sacred viewpoint.
Mrs. MacNeil knew what her body was enduring and took a thoughtful, autonomous decision. She recognized her desires and her limits, finding immense relief in seizing control in a situation marked by suffering.
It made me ponder my own eventual departure from this life. Would I resist the inevitable? How long? I’d likely hope for comfort, but if that fell short, might I also choose to take charge? Observing Mrs. MacNeil’s experience has certainly shifted my comfort level with that idea.
From my first experience with MAID, I not only received a wooden seagull from a remarkable woman, but also gained a new understanding of what it means to have a good death.
Mrs. MacNeil enjoyed a dignified farewell, surrounded by love. It was her choice, and it was a beautiful send-off.
Note: Names and details have been altered to protect the privacy of individuals involved.
