N°36 – Choosing death

Canton of Neuchâtel, 30th October,
Suzanne died on a Monday. She had chosen that day.

I met her in the morning, at 9 o’clock sharp. I’m always very punctual for this kind of appointment. When I arrived at her retirement home, her husband, son and daughter were already there. Suzanne was sitting on her bed, looking peaceful. She was wearing a beautiful blouse.

I greeted her, asked how she was, and then asked her the same question I’d asked every time we’d met: “Are you sure of your decision?”

I had met Suzanne and her husband for the first time two months earlier in that same room. She had contacted me, via my association Exit (which helps people who want assisted suicide in Switzerland, ed.), because she had made up her mind that she wanted to die. Suzanne was 72, like me, but unlike me she suffered from multiple illnesses.

Over two hours, she retraced the past 20 years of her life to me. She recounted her rapidly progressing Parkinson’s disease, terrifying knee replacement problems that caused unbearable pain, her stenosis that caused abdominal pain and three operations… When I raised the possibility of palliative care, Suzanne was unequivocal: “I don’t want to unnecessarily prolong the end of my life that I know is irremediable. I no longer see any reason to add days to my existence.” For her, those days had lost all meaning.

She and her husband also told me about their children, a daughter and son who hadn’t seen each other for many years. These family rifts were taking up a lot of space in their minds.

Two weeks later, she called me again. At Exit, we always let people get back in touch with us, everything has to be their initiative from start to finish. She suggested we meet again the following Monday, in the presence of her children. After our last meeting, she had called them. For the first time in years, they agreed to meet again to support their mother in her decision to end her life. It’s a beautiful act of love to give someone you love the choice to die.

At our second appointment, I explained to the whole family, in detail, what was going to happen. It was like a rehearsal, so that everyone knew what was going to happen on the day, and so that I could make sure Suzanne was capable of drinking on her own. This is a prerequisite for us, because otherwise someone else has to do it for her, which is no longer suicide, but euthanasia, which is illegal in Switzerland.

Two weeks later, I received a call from Suzanne: “My husband and I have decided on the date.” Once the final appointment had been made, she was completely liberated and was reassured to know I was there.

She wasn’t depressed at all. Suicide is never an act of convenience. And for Suzanne, asking to die represented absolute deliverance.

On Suzanne’s last day, everything went according to plan. I put the 15 grams of pentobarbital in a glass of water, and had a piece of chocolate ready to wash down the bitter taste of the potion. I handed her the glass, repeating one last time, “Are you still sure of your decision?”

She said, “Goodbye, I love you”, and drank the potion in three gulps. I laid her down on her bed. Her husband was holding her hand, and her children were on the other side of the bed. Her daughter was crying. I left the room so the family could be alone. In five minutes, Suzanne passed away very peacefully.

Ten minutes later, I came back to take her pulse; their mother, their wife, was gone. I called a doctor to come and certify the death, followed by the police, who have to investigate. I handed them Suzanne’s letter, her medical file and the prescription for the barbiturate. Then the funeral home took over.

At the end of the morning, I said goodbye to the family, who thanked me. I left them a note and went home. I felt full and very grateful to Suzanne for trusting me. In the afternoon, I went for a walk in the forest. I nearly always do this after an assisted suicide. Every time, it’s a moving experience for me, but not a traumatic one. It feels good to help someone carry out their last wishes.

In a few days’ time, I’m going to meet a new person who has requested assistance. It’s a coincidence, because like with Suzanne, it will be on a Monday.

Jean-Jacques

Over the past twenty years, Jean-Jacques has accompanied around twenty people in their suicides through the Swiss association Exit, which he has been a member of since 2000 and co-president since 2018. For him, helping people like Suzanne to “leave a life that no longer resembles life” is an obvious choice, and an experience that has made him more serene and attentive to others.

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