Death has been very present in my life, and perhaps for that reason I do not think I fear it. My husband, the jazz singer and writer George Melly, died of lung cancer and dementia in 2007. My daughter Candy died of breast cancer six years ago. My son Patrick died of a heroin overdose aged 24.
These experiences have made me look at death and accept it. And I feel a sense of calm and control in the face of the Covid-19 pandemic. I am 82 years old with underlying health conditions, and have documentation in place stating that if I become critically ill, I do not want to receive treatment aimed at saving or prolonging my life, such as resuscitation if my heart stopped or ventilation if I could no longer breathe unaided.
Instead, I would much rather be allowed to die at home and be kept comfortable, just like George, who refused all treatment when he was given a terminal prognosis of cancer. This was a perfectly sensible decision for him to make, and so it is for me. When I asked recently how else I can ensure my wishes are followed on Radio 4’s Any Questions, a response was sidestepped and it turned into a conversation about isolation measures. I was called “brave” more than once; neither true nor appropriate.
I have been ruminating on this reaction ever since. Perhaps my question was dodged because the experts on the panel were embarrassed by it. It seemed to surprise them that I have a “Do Not Attempt CPR” notice and a Living Will to refuse life-prolonging treatment in place. My priority is not holding off death at all costs but ensuring that it is as good a death as George had, when it inevitably comes.
It should not be “brave” or unusual to take a frank look at the end of your life and record your wishes, a process known as advance care planning. This is the speciality of the charity Compassion in Dying, of which I am a great supporter. They help people translate their priorities, fears and concerns for the end of life into, if appropriate, a Living Will to refuse treatment, an Advance Statement to record preferences for care, and a Lasting Power of Attorney for Health and Welfare to appoint a trusted person to make healthcare decisions on their behalf if they become unable to.
While life-saving or -prolonging measures are certainly right for some people if they have a reasonable chance of success, they are torture for others. It shouldn’t be shocking or morbid to want to put plans in place to refuse these treatments. Planning for the end enabled me to get on with living in the here and now, knowing I have done what is right for me and hopefully will have more control over my future.
Over 80% of people also have strong feelings about their treatment, but only 4% have made either a Living Will or Lasting Power of Attorney, meaning decisions will ultimately fall to doctors (YouGov, 2014). The healthcare system can be paternalistic at the best of times, and now more than ever it can feel as though important decisions are being made for us, not with us. Fortunately, by ‘having the conversation’ with our family, our friends and our GP and, most importantly, recording our wishes, we can tip the power imbalance back in our favour and ensure we remain central in decisions about the end of our lives.
As a patron of Dignity in Dying, Compassion’s sister organisation which campaigns to allow assisted dying as a choice for terminally ill, mentally competent adults, I also recognise that no amount of advance care planning or palliative care is sufficient to ensure everyone dies on their terms. The problems with dying in the UK have not gone away in light of the new ones the pandemic brings; terminally ill people are still forced to endure unbearable suffering against their wishes or take matters into their own hands, at home or abroad. If we are serious about improving end-of-life care for everyone, assisted dying has to be part of the conversation, and 84% of the British public agree (Populus, 2019).
Facing death and dying head on and planning for it is essential to give us all the best chance of a good death. Those who have already done so should not be patted patronisingly on the head. It is not brave; it is the right and sensible thing to do.
Diana Melly is an author and patron of Dignity in Dying.