People have been committing suicide when terminally ill or in terrible pain for a long long time, and it’s sad and troubling although understandable. But health care institutions and the state haven’t usually been involved until more recently. When they are, it seems that nightmare scenarios turn up with some frequency.

Consider the case of 83-year-old Brigitte Stegemann, whose assisted suicide under Canada’s MAiD program sounds more like it may have been a murder. It’s necessary to read the whole thing to understand the story, but the gist of it is that the elderly grandmother seemed to have lacked the ability to understand what MAiD was intending to do, and she was nowhere near the point of agreeing anyway:

… [A]ccording to [her granddaughter and primary caregiver] Kranendonk, her grandmother still had a good appetite even following a stomach cancer diagnosis, and rejected the idea of using MAiD when it was presented as an option.

Everything changed, however, in June when Kranendonk left to go on a 10-day road trip with her husband.

… [O]n July 3, near the end of her trip, Kranendonk said she received a call informing her that the home planned to arrange a MAiD assessment for Stegemann, despite her grandmother previously telling her that she did not want an assisted death.

Kranendonk said, according to The Daily Mail, that when she returned, she asked a nurse at The Pearl about who had initiated the MAiD conversation. …

When Kranendonk interjected and said, “She doesn’t understand what you’re saying,” the doctor allegedly looked at Stegemann and said, “We’re going to make sure you won’t have any more pain.”

According to a doctor, Stegemann was “deemed fit for MAID, and we’re going to proceed,” The Daily Mail reported.

It’s a chilling story, one of many under such programs. It has a special resonance for me at the moment because, although the details were very very different from that of Brigette Stegemann, I have recently experienced what it is like to feel that a hospital gave up on an older patient prematurely and to have nearly all my input and all my requests fall on deaf ears.

The distinct impression I got was that, once my ex-husband became very ill (at least in part because of what I consider to have been doctor negligence), many of the doctors seemed to ignore the fact that I kept telling them that his quality of life prior to this surgery had been pretty decent despite his Parkinson’s, and that he had been living completely independently.

I never got the impression they believed me. They didn’t seem to be able to adapt by changing interventions. Their concern seemed fake and unctuous, and it was combined with a condescension and early pessimism that were infuriating.

The hospital has a good reputation. Would another have been better? I’m not at all sure, and at any rate I didn’t know how to find that hospital or how to accomplish a transfer. The hospitalist system, in which doctors (some of whom don’t have particularly good English skills) rotate constantly, is extremely frustrating as well. The doctors didn’t take much time with my ex, and I’m virtually sure they didn’t read the bulk of the notes on his case. With a long hospital stay (three and a half weeks from relatively good health to death), the number of notes became enormous and would have taken hours to plow through.

No hospitalist was going to do that, and therefore in my opinion they missed what was really going on. Nor did they particularly care about a patient whom they barely saw – and would not be likely to see again after their days or week on that floor ended and they rotated out again. My distinct impression was that they wrote him off very early on and spent a great deal of time sending palliative care doctors to speak to me and try to convince me to write him off, too.

If I sound angry, it’s because I am.