Two years ago, Linda Pieters-Gorissen (39) and her brother bought a large bouquet of roses for father and mother on December 20. It was a regular routine, she does it every year on that specific day – it is her parents’ wedding anniversary. Only this December 20th was different than usual. Not only was it the day her parents celebrated their wedding anniversary, it was also the day her father (73) and her mother (65) would die together.
“You don’t want it to happen, and on the other hand you really want it to happen.”
Linda and her brother Rob, who is three years younger, grew up in Kerkrade, Limburg. The nest she came from was warm, full of love, but also full of fear. Linda was 4 when her father suffered a massive heart attack. He survived, but always remained ill afterwards. Heart attack after heart attack followed. “Chronic hypotension,” the doctor said. In layman’s terms: problems with blood pressure. Linda’s father was always tired. Bedridden. Struggled with diabetes, developed kidney problems. “My mother took care of him half her life. With love, oh, I saw so much love between those two.”
Her parents were “kind of hippies” when they met, Linda says. Her father had long hair, they were open-minded, big music lovers, often went to concerts when her father was still mobile and could dance together for hours. Blues music was their favorite, especially the band Cuby + Blizzards.
And even after her father became ill, they remained a team. “She prepared the food, he put it on the stove or set the table. My mother did much more, but my father remained involved. They remained so attuned to each other. And we also received an overkill of love as children. Because my father could no longer work, he was always waiting for us after school with a cup of tea.”
Linda left home early because she wanted to escape the fear, but she came there every day. After her father suffered a cerebral infarction a few years ago, intensive care began. At home, with family around him, just like he wanted. He became the time bomb that started ticking louder and faster. And yet it was her mother, that strong woman who was still teaching gymnastics at the age of 60, with whom Linda first spoke about euthanasia.
‘Alzheimer’ was the diagnosis that Linda’s mother had received from the neurologist. “Then I want an injection,” her mother had replied. “She was very clear about this from the start. Her firm wish was: not to go to the hospital or nursing home, no suffering.”
“Okay, Mom,” Linda said. “If that’s what you want, then I’ve got your back.”
Linda printed out a care and advance directive. Her mother filled it out by hand and submitted this form to the doctor every year. “I wanted people who needed to know to know that it was my mother who wanted this. And I didn’t want to have to beg for her death.” In the last months before her death she was referred to it Euthanasia Expertise Center, which the family said was very helpful. “My mother was so relieved that she was listened to.”
The procedure was initiated and discussions followed. “The doctor spoke to my mother for the first time and was visibly shocked when he heard that there was another sick person in the flat: my father was one room away.” Linda’s father was also spoken to. “We were all worried. What will happen to Dad if Mom dies? He can’t take care of himself. He knew that too, he was in good shape, a smart, very smart man. And what if, with his weak heart, dies of heartbreak?”
‘It’s difficult timing’
As a general practitioner, Constance de Vries has been associated with the Euthanasia Expertise Center for about twelve years and has been to the euthanasia of a married couple three times. She calls this ‘grateful customization’, but it is also sometimes complicated. “The timing is especially difficult,” she says. “The suffering must be unbearable for both partners at around the same time. Sometimes one of the two dies suddenly, or one of the two deteriorates in a short time.”
“We also say this very clearly in advance to people who want something like this: it may not happen in time.”
There are many rules involved in a euthanasia process, on the government website they are explained. And for duo euthanasia, one doctor may euthanize two patients, but the patients must be assessed and seen in advance by two so-called SCEN doctors: general practitioners who are trained to provide independent advice to fellow doctors.
“Just saying that you only want to live to be 90 together is not enough,” says De Vries. What is also important is that the decision is made individually. “There should be no mutual influence. And of course you talk to each other, if you have been married for so long, but the choice must be personal. The conversations with the doctor are also conducted separately.”
“My father thought about it very, very carefully, on his own. About what he wanted. I can tell you: that man struggled with many life dilemmas in those weeks.”
Because it kept running through his mind: could he cope with his children if they lost their mother and father in one fell swoop? Linda didn’t say, “I’m not going to be sad.” She also didn’t say, “I like losing both my parents at the same time.” She did say, “Dad, you did what you could. Love is also letting go.”
After a few weeks, and after a few of those intense conversations, he was out. ‘If my wife goes, I want to go too. Together. On our wedding day’.
Wedding day and death day
And that became ‘a thing’ in terms of timing. “My mother was already further along in the procedure. We were afraid that time would catch up with us. That, when my father finally got permission, my mother would be so far ‘gone’ that she herself would say ‘no’ to the day of euthanasia.”
Indeed, her mother received permission before her father. His request was granted only a few days before the wedding day. “We were relieved, at first, that we had the green light for both of them. But then we also realized: this is bizarre. Their wedding day will also be their death anniversary.”
But, as said, love sometimes also means letting go, so Linda and her brother went to the market for the most beautiful roses they could find. In the days before that there was delicious food, lots of cuddling, especially with the grandchildren, lots of talking, and also silence. “Because a lot had already been said.”
‘Lots of love’
GP De Vries sees a lot of sadness, but also – and above all – a lot of love. Once, with the children’s permission, she took a photo of two wrinkled hands holding each other. “Such a moving image.”
Whoever stayed with her: the man who had always taken care of his wife. “He had cancer, she had dementia. He had been caring for her for years, and wanted to continue doing so until she was asleep. So she got the injection earlier. Only when she was asleep did he get the injection, and he too fell asleep within 10 seconds. So he could still care for her until her end. That was such a loving thing.”
On December 22, just after two, Linda softly turned on her parents’ wedding music in their living room. She lit candles. Closed the curtains. Her parents had indicated that they wanted to go at a quarter past three in the afternoon, exactly the time when they married each other 48 years ago. “My father’s doctor and my mother’s doctor both said: ‘We are doing our best, but it will be difficult to plan’. Of course, every body reacts differently, some take longer than others.”
Linda and her brother sat there and watched it. How their parents gave each other another kiss. Grabbing each other’s hands. How the sleeping pill was administered by both doctors. How they fell asleep. First mom, soon after dad. “And then” – Linda says it a little softer, as if she is there again – “so they went at the same time. A quarter past three. Really. A quarter past three.”
Shocking
She chuckles. “Do you know what I discovered at that moment? That you cannot look at two people at the same time, that is practically impossible. I saw my father die, my brother my mother.” She took a step back and saw her parents lying there, just alive, now suddenly dead, but still holding hands. “Rationally you can say: this is what they wanted. They were spared a lot of suffering. They would not get better and were now in control. Their choice was respected. But then I only felt the ground sinking under my feet. lost half my family. It was shocking.”
That feeling, that panic: it has now, more than a year later, faded away. What remains is love, for her parents, relief that they could go together. She therefore also shares their story, for people who experience the same thing as her and her family. “I want to show how loving it can be, but also how important it is that you seek out the right experts, talk about it with others, read up carefully, know what you are talking about, and also know what the consequences are of so-called duo -euthanasia.”
Complicated, that mourning
It is, Linda says, something that should not be taken lightly. Even now that this form of euthanasia has been in the news due to the death of former politician Dries van Agt, Linda would like to say again: “You don’t just do something like that. My parents didn’t do it overnight. And then I have to say not about what happens to those left behind.”
The grief that followed was layered. Complicated. Still, by the way. There is sadness, anger – ‘my parents didn’t live to be that old’ – pain, loss, relief that things turned out their way, and also, what she feels very strongly: pride.
“I found their choice painful but brave. It seems so scary to me to choose your own death.” And while Linda says so, she actually wants to improve herself. Because yes, of course: her parents made a very conscious, well-considered choice for death. But actually, when she thinks back on it now, it was mainly a choice for love.
2024-02-14 06:06:25
#Lindas #parents #left #lives #hand #hand #Ultimate #love #shocking
