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Death With Dignity
By Barry Yeoman, March-April 2003
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For the last months of her life, Colleen Rice lived at her daughter's house in a makeshift bedroom adorned with a miniature statue of an angel, a Lakota Indian prayer, and a rosary an ancestor had brought over during the Irish potato famine. At night Scott lay awake, listening to his wife's breathing in the hospital bed a foot away, and hearing Jasmine, their German shorthaired pointer, snoring on his other side. He synchronized his breathing with Colleen's. Sometimes, when her respiration slowed, he'd take two breaths for every one of hers. Other times Colleen would wake up, angry at still being alive, worried that if she waited too long she would no longer be able to swallow the medication by herself. If that happened, anyone who assisted her would be breaking the law.
On the final morning, at 5 a.m., there was a knock at the door. Standing outside was George Eighmey, executive director of Compassion in Dying of Oregon. Since the passage of the law, Eighmey and his volunteers have visited families, located sympathetic doctors and pharmacists, and stood at bedsides at the end when asked.
"Here's Mr. Death," Colleen said, deadpan, as he walked through the door, then broke into laughter.
Colleen had put on her makeup that morning. She wanted to look good on her final day. She took an anti-nausea medication to ensure that she wouldn't vomit the bitter-tasting barbiturates later in the morning. Eighmey explained the procedure to the family, then helped them crush the 90 barbiturates and mix their contents with orange juice to make swallowing easier.
Finally, after the anti-nausea drug had taken effect, the family gathered around. Outside, it was still black. "I remember walking into the bedroom," says Eighmey. "It might sound strange, but there was a softness in the air, a feeling of warmth. Colleen was such a warm, reassuring woman, she gave others permission to feel sad and to participate."
When the time came, Eighmey asked Colleen her wishes one last time. "Are you absolutely sure you want to do this?"
"Yep, let's do it," Colleen replied matter-of-factly.
"Colleen, it's not too late to back out," Eighmey said. "If you have any hesitation, we can dump this down the toilet."
"Nope," she responded. "I'm ready."
After a quick toast, she lifted the glass and drank. Almost immediately she began to doze. Cathy started reciting the Lakota prayer that would fill the room for the next two hours:
"O Great Spirit,
whose voice I hear in the winds,
and whose breath gives
life to all the world, hear me!
I am small and weak.
I need your strength and wisdom."
Between each verse, her relatives chanted. "We let you go," they said. "Go to the light. We love you. Find the light." Then, one by one, her family recited the next verses, broken up by more chanting, until finally…
"Make me always ready
to come to you with clean hands
and straight eyes, so when life fades,
as the fading sunset, my spirit
will come to you without shame."
Within minutes Colleen had slipped into a coma. The dawn broke bright and warm, a startling contrast to the usual rain of December mornings. The family kept up their prayer, punctuated by exhortations: "We release you. Find the light."
Two hours after she took the medicine, Colleen Rice was gone. Everyone left the room except Cathy, who sat with her mother for a few minutes before waking her children. Eighmey dialed the hospice to report an "expected death." The death certificate cited the cause as lung cancer.
Two years later, Cathy still breaks down when she recalls her mother's illness and hastened death. Sometimes she imagines what her mother would be doing if the cancer had gone away. Then she remembers the Ashcroft directive, and knows exactly what Colleen would be up to. "If she had been cured," Cathy says, "she would be standing on some steps in Washington, D.C., shouting, 'How dare you take away our right to die in dignity? You don't have that right.' "
Barry Yeoman previously wrote about prescription drugs for AARP Modern Maturity. Colleen Rice's novel, In the Midst of Darkness, is available on Amazon.com.
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