James Johnson
My Mum was a nurse for 40 years and had seen terrible suffering at the end of life. So when at just 67 years old she became terminally ill with vasculitis, she knew that she didn’t want that for herself. She wanted to die with dignity.
The palliative care she received was focused on pain relief, but the medication she was prescribed had side effects like bleeding gums and nails, significant swelling to the face, and tremors so uncontrollable she couldn’t hold a cup of tea.
In 2019, I waved my Mum off to die alone at Dignitas. I had no other choice.
She spent her life savings, and in agonising pain she travelled alone to protect her family from the risk of criminal investigation, so that she could have a dignified end to her life.
Because of my job with the police, and the UK’s law on assisted dying — I couldn’t hold her hand when she died.
I wanted nothing more than to help and support her, but Mum insisted that I didn’t go with her to Dignitas, that I didn’t risk my career and my livelihood which supports my young family.
This was the most painful conversation and decision I have ever had to make.
Mum received the ‘green light’ from Dignitas and we spent our final days together, visiting her favourite spots in the New Forest and sharing family jokes and memories.
She told me how relieved she was to finally be going. She told me to look after my wife and children and that she loved me forever.
After a tear filled goodbye, I watched as she walked towards the station, turning around to wave goodbye and blow us kisses.
When she was almost out of sight, she waved for a final time and turned with an exaggerated skip down the road, fist to the sky.
The bravery it took her to walk further than she’d been able to in months, get to the airport and endure a flight alone, to me will always be the most incredible example of courage.
I am so proud of the strength she showed, but I have to live with the regret of not being with her for her final days.