As the Assisted dying Bill returns to Commons, The Mirror’s Fran Bowden shares just how tough providing end of life care really is, and why she can’t support the law change
Stepping through the door on December 17, 2017, Norman and I knew he was coming home to die. Nearly 96, it had taken a year and many visits to A&E for his advanced heart failure to be diagnosed.
It seemed to me that over-stretched NHS staff were simply too busy to get to the bottom of elderly patients’ problems. Still, this was no time for recriminations.
And Norman was lucky. He had me and his devoted adult children to fight for him. My job now was to make every single moment Norman and I shared as good as it possibly could be.
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Ours was an extraordinary romance. We’d fallen in love at first sight when we got talking, after his dog ate my sandwich on our local common – despite him being 79 to my 36.
If you’d met him, you’d understand. Age didn’t matter. He was simply amazing and I loved him very deeply – everybody did. His last year was one of the most precious of my entire life. It was an incredible privilege to be the person he chose to rely on.
Together with his family, some wonderful carers, friends, the local hospice – and not forgetting my pet house rabbits who brought us both great joy – we shared a lot of laughter as well as tears. Every moment counted.
But getting everything Norman needed for a dignified death was a monumental battle and, at times, it nearly broke me. I fought it willingly because he was the love of my life. And that is exactly why I can’t support assisted dying.
I know how tough providing end of life care really is. And the fear that people who are lonely, unsupported or feel they have become a burden could be coerced into letting go keeps nagging at me.
Of course, I empathise with people experiencing extreme suffering, who feel they have a right to choose when to die. But Norman would have given anything for one more day of life – as would I to have spent a moment longer with him.
In my darkest hours since losing him, I recall how often he told me: “I love living.” I can just see him saying it and it spurs me on.
Norman Greville Pelluet was six weeks off 97 when he died peacefully on December 27, 2018, holding my hand and surrounded by his children, after just one day in the hospice. The staff there were simply incredible.
They made Norman comfortable, relieved his pain and gave us all a safe and private space to say goodbye. Norman and I spent 17-and-a-half wonderful years together. He taught me the true value of love and life.