‘I probably won’t get the chance to die in my favorite place’: Esther Rantzen on the right to choose a good death

TYears ago there were three deaths in my family. We lost my mother, my husband and our rescue dog in a few months. Looking back, now that I have been diagnosed with stage 4 lung cancer and have to face the reality of my own mortality, the most peaceful, pain-free, and easiest death was that of our dog, who was gently laid down surrounded by his loving family. I’m jealous of him. The current state of our criminal justice system means that I am being denied a merciful end. I know we love our dogs in this country, but why do we treat pets so much better than humans at the end of our lives?

I am told that assisted dying inspires more letters to newspapers than any other issue. A recent one The Westminster Hall Debate was attended by so many MPs that they had to look for extra seats. The speeches were passionate and moving. Many described witnessing the painful death of someone close to them. But it was just a debate, with no possibility of a vote at the end, or any change in the law. It came out of a petition I helped lead with the campaigning charity Dignity in dying. For their own good and for those they love, 200,000 signatories called for a change in the law to legalize assisted dying under carefully regulated conditions for terminally ill people with six months or less to live. I believe the time for that change has come.

Personally, I have been aware of this problem for decades. Both my late husband, documentary maker Desmond Wilcox, and I have made programs about it over the years. We both wanted to be able to choose a good death instead of spending our last days in acute pain and fear. When I was diagnosed a year ago, it was natural for me to join Dignitas. If I decide that my life is no longer worth living, I will have to travel to Zurich to die, which will cost at least £15,000, so it is not a solution for everyone. Going to Switzerland is the only way, given our current law criminalizing assisted death, that I can face my own death with the confidence that it will be pain-free, knowing that I can decide whether my life has become unbearable and I want that too. end. But I cannot ask my immediate family to come to Switzerland to support me, as I would like, because then they would in principle be open to investigation by the British police on charges of possible manslaughter. That’s what happened to grieving partners and grieving families. That is why I have described the law as it currently stands as a cruel mess.

Since making my decision public, I have received many messages of support from people describing how helpless they felt as they watched someone they loved die painfully. Not because palliative care was not available, but because even the best care cannot always guarantee a peaceful, pain-free death. One of the speakers in the Westminster Hall debate suggested that doctors could once discreetly and compassionately end the life of a suffering patient without risking prosecution or suspension. But since the murders committed by Harold Shipman in the mid-1990s, medical regulations have become stricter and this has become impossible. Even doctors can feel helpless when confronted with the unbearable suffering of a patient. That may be one of the reasons that the medical profession no longer opposes every change in the law.

While every survey shows that the public supports the legalization of assisted dying, I believe everyone has the right to oppose the change. No doctor should be forced to kill me if it goes against their beliefs. But I’m relieved the British Medical Association has withdrawn its opposition to a change in the law since the last Commons debate in 2015, and members can now make their own choice. I also understand the opposition of some people with religious beliefs who would forbid this, but I think they should be honest and state that this is the reason, and not impose their beliefs on others. I do not understand the opposition of some people with disabilities who feel that their lives would be threatened by a change in the law. I guess they think there is a slippery slope, that the law might be extended to people with disabilities. But that hasn’t happened elsewhere, and the reform Dignity in Dying is proposing in this country would legalize assisted dying only for patients with has a terminal illness and has six months or less to live, who ask for an end to their suffering. This will not affect people with disabilities unless they become terminally ill and are in so much pain and fear that they ask for help to die. In which case should they not have the right to choose? Just as I should?

My own cancer seems to be responding to one of the new targeted drugs, so I’m about to celebrate an 84th birthday I never thought I’d reach. But the oncologist has made it clear that this is a delay and not a cure. Only the next scan will tell me if the medicine is still working. So in the background of my life is the knowledge that I may not be as lucky as my dog. Almost every obituary claims that someone “died peacefully at home.” I would like to believe them. All surveys show that the vast majority of the public wants that. I would also like to die at home, surrounded by my family. With Jersey and the Isle of Man having already introduced new laws, this feels like a turning point: Sir Keir Starmer and Rishi Sunak have both agreed to set aside time for a debate in the House of Commons after the election. Even if that leads to a change in the law, it seems that it will come too late for me. I probably won’t get the chance to die in my favorite place, my cottage in the New Forest. Forget it. Even if that choice is not possible for me in my lifetime, I hope it will be possible for you in yours. It’s our life. It will be our death. It should be our choice.