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I’m in palliative psychiatric care at Sunnybrook Hospital in Toronto. I was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder over thirty-three years ago. I have disordered eating, substance use disorder, and PTSD. Mental illness’s greatest hits, if you will.
Dying With Dignity Canada, John Scully, [Paliare Roland] and myself are complainants in a federal lawsuit. Medical assistance in dying for those whose sole underlying medical condition is a mental disorder (MAID MI-SUMC) is currently illegal in Canada, which is a violation of the Charter of Rights and Freedoms. This discriminatory legislation was to change years ago, but to no one’s surprise, the government has not lived up to their promise. I’m clinging to life by my fingernails to get through it.
I’m also a practicing Catholic, so all things considered, the jokes write themselves.
I believe in body autonomy and body integrity. I believe in the Holy Trinity, and I’m pro-choice. Please don’t tell God. You may question my piety, but don’t question my faith or devotion. Please don’t question my pain, and not to worry- I shall ask The Good Thief what he thinks of heaven when I die.
The debate surrounding MAID MI-SUMC incites a war of opinions and ideas about ethics, self-determination, income inequality and accessible mental health care. For me, it's a matter of basic human dignity. I believe there are valid reasons for opposing MAID MI-SUMC, but none good enough to deny me my constitutional right.
The master-narrative surrounding MAID MI-SUMC often ignores the reality of living with mental illness, reducing it to a simplistic view of suicide prevention versus assisted dying. The dichotomy fails to capture the nuances of our experiences. I don’t want you to put yourself in my position. I’m only asking you to consider it. If you want to make honest and informed decisions or opinions, you need honest and accurate information. You deserve to see the entire picture, which heavily includes lived experience. I have first-hand knowledge of severe and persistent mental illness (SPMI).
Bipolar Disorder is associated with unbearable human suffering.
From April until August, I underwent thorough assessments to ascertain the severity of my condition. I’ve done hours of interviews. Loved ones, family, and doctors were contacted for context and verification. Details of my life, and decades of medical records have been vetted meticulously. For nearly thirty-four years, I’ve been treated for SPMI in Montreal, Toronto, New York, and Los Angeles. I’ve been to psychiatrists, psychologists, councillors, priests, and nuns. I’ve been in and out of psychiatric hospitals, wards, and rehabs. I’ve been in seclusion, four-point restraints, and chemically restrained.
Living below the poverty line compounds my struggles, but even in times of financial prosperity, it never leaves me. It’s always there. My and my menacing shadow.
I’ve done rounds and rounds of electroconvulsive therapy. Antidepressants. Antipsychotics. Mood stabilizers. Benzodiazepines. Adderall. Modafinil. Psychedelics. I haven’t tried Ketamine remedially, but I often did it for fun (it was my favourite drug to do before going out to do drugs). I’ve done cognitive and dialectical behavioural therapy. Group, family, music, and art therapy. Tai Chi. Sensory Deprivation Tank Therapy. Sound baths. Sobriety. Meditation. Veganism. I went to Church until I couldn’t. I’ve had access to everything there is, and here we are.
My presence, as well as my absence, has always been a relief. Nothing applies to me anymore, but punchlines and diagnosis.
Dr. Sonu Gaind, the chief of psychiatry at Sunnybrook hospital- who sounds more and more like a conspiracy theorist- repeatedly declares that MAID MI-SUMC is an “easy way out”. It’s beyond insulting; it is a gross misunderstanding of the complexities of mental illness. Make no mistake, there is nothing easy about dying. It’s a deeply painful decision made in the face of relentless torment. I am trapped in a body that refuses to cooperate. I’ve exhausted every avenue of relief. The idea that doctors and providers will “entice patients to die” is absurd. It perpetuates stereotypes not only of the sick, but psychiatrists. Doctors don’t administer MAID to a non-dying person, monsters do. It's a misconception that undermines the fundamental, sacred nature of medicine; doctors swore an oath to society to be agents of mercy, not the law. Where will it end, indeed!
Gaind is also intent on revoking doctors’ right to conscientious objection. In Canada, doctors can refuse to provide certain medical care based on their personal beliefs and values (abortion, for ex.). I can’t speak to the limits of his idealized moral order, but his zealous bias has already caused potentially life-threatening damage. To clear up any confusion, MAID is not a substitute for therapy, medication, or support groups. Nor will there be rubber-stamped MAID MI-SUMC applications. It’s kind of like, anyone can get a driver's licence, but not everyone does.
Not to brag, but I spend a significant amount of time in Sunnybrook’s psychiatric ward, and not just because I’m in palliative. I’ve been an in-patient, in the intensive psychiatric care unit (IPCU), I did out-patient electroconvulsive therapy (ECT), and in the new year I’m starting repetitive transcranial magnetic stimulation (rTMS).
I believe psychiatrists have the most difficult job in the world, full stop. I have an infinite amount of respect for those nerds- especially the many who’ve treated me at Sunnybrook. In my Yelp review, I rated Sunnybrook Hospital number four out of my top three favourite places in Toronto to get ECT. I’ve been so lucky at that hospital.
I’ve asked my doctors to be with me, at the end.
There is now another federal lawsuit regarding MAID filed by “disability activists”. The complainants’ remonstration is to deny MAID to people with disabilities, which completely undermines my human value and identity because I’m disabled. It’s muddying the waters I’m drowning in. Their message is extremely harmful. It encourages stereotypes by reaffirming we don’t know how to think for ourselves. Let everyone else decide for us.
This isn’t about hurt feelings, maybes, and what ifs.
This is about equal rights. Do you believe in them, or not? Do you see me as your equal, or not? Do the mentally ill belong over here, and you all belong over there? Do I deserve a dignified death, or not? Is my human value less than people whose “sole underlying medical condition” is cancer or ALS? My argument calls on the government for safety and civil rights, not the revocation of them. I’m asking for justification of the pain they are forcing me to endure, beyond my inevitable violent death. I want them to legitimize their reasons and decisions to my parents and my loved ones who can’t bear to watch me suffer anymore.
When someone imposes their moral code on others, it quells openness and objectivity, and it never ends well. Morality is as rational as it is emotional, but morality is not justice. It ebbs and flows with the political tide; it’s ever-changing, and it suits us. Morality fluctuates with experience and we evolve. Morality is complicated. Equality is not.
I’ve been debilitated and confined for years. There are no phone calls, emails, texts. No coffees, no dinners or movies, no going to the store… I am not even alive. I speak to no one but my mother and one of my sisters, doctors, lawyers and reporters.
I always wonder where the obstructionists who spread misinformation (not conscientious objectors) go when they’re finished talking about MAID MI-SUMC. Are they leaving a job? In a car? To eat a normal meal? Maybe even with a person? Do they go home to their partner and kids? Go to a store? Text their friends or make plans? Are they able to touch, or even look at their own body in the shower?
Maybe someone even tells them they love them. Maybe even every day.
Should the legislation stay the same for 2 and a half more years, my end will be as violent and destructive as a murder. The waves of collateral trauma ripple for generations. All I want is to be surrounded by love when I go. No questions left unanswered, nothing left unsaid. I am drowning. What more would you have me do? For how long? MAID is an option to not suffer like a wounded animal at the end of your life. It is the option for a dignified death. You might need it. Someone you love might need it.
Isaac Newton once said that he could calculate the motion of heavenly bodies, but not the madness of people. I won’t pretend that the issue of MAID for those who suffer solely from mental disorders is simple; life and death never is. Equality is simple. I would be different if I could- in what I know, how I feel, and what I do. If I only had a brain, a heart, the nerve.
This is not merely a matter of legislation; it is a matter of humanity. Please find it in your heart to show me some.
I’m in palliative psychiatric care at Sunnybrook Hospital in Toronto. I was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder over thirty-three years ago. I have disordered eating, substance use disorder, and PTSD. Mental illness’s greatest hits, if you will.
Dying With Dignity Canada, John Scully, [Paliare Roland] and myself are complainants in a federal lawsuit. Medical assistance in dying for those whose sole underlying medical condition is a mental disorder (MAID MI-SUMC) is currently illegal in Canada, which is a violation of the Charter of Rights and Freedoms. This discriminatory legislation was to change years ago, but to no one’s surprise, the government has not lived up to their promise. I’m clinging to life by my fingernails to get through it.
I’m also a practicing Catholic, so all things considered, the jokes write themselves.
I believe in body autonomy and body integrity. I believe in the Holy Trinity, and I’m pro-choice. Please don’t tell God. You may question my piety, but don’t question my faith or devotion. Please don’t question my pain, and not to worry- I shall ask The Good Thief what he thinks of heaven when I die.
The debate surrounding MAID MI-SUMC incites a war of opinions and ideas about ethics, self-determination, income inequality and accessible mental health care. For me, it's a matter of basic human dignity. I believe there are valid reasons for opposing MAID MI-SUMC, but none good enough to deny me my constitutional right.
The master-narrative surrounding MAID MI-SUMC often ignores the reality of living with mental illness, reducing it to a simplistic view of suicide prevention versus assisted dying. The dichotomy fails to capture the nuances of our experiences. I don’t want you to put yourself in my position. I’m only asking you to consider it. If you want to make honest and informed decisions or opinions, you need honest and accurate information. You deserve to see the entire picture, which heavily includes lived experience. I have first-hand knowledge of severe and persistent mental illness (SPMI).
Bipolar Disorder is associated with unbearable human suffering.
From April until August, I underwent thorough assessments to ascertain the severity of my condition. I’ve done hours of interviews. Loved ones, family, and doctors were contacted for context and verification. Details of my life, and decades of medical records have been vetted meticulously. For nearly thirty-four years, I’ve been treated for SPMI in Montreal, Toronto, New York, and Los Angeles. I’ve been to psychiatrists, psychologists, councillors, priests, and nuns. I’ve been in and out of psychiatric hospitals, wards, and rehabs. I’ve been in seclusion, four-point restraints, and chemically restrained.
Living below the poverty line compounds my struggles, but even in times of financial prosperity, it never leaves me. It’s always there. My and my menacing shadow.
I’ve done rounds and rounds of electroconvulsive therapy. Antidepressants. Antipsychotics. Mood stabilizers. Benzodiazepines. Adderall. Modafinil. Psychedelics. I haven’t tried Ketamine remedially, but I often did it for fun (it was my favourite drug to do before going out to do drugs). I’ve done cognitive and dialectical behavioural therapy. Group, family, music, and art therapy. Tai Chi. Sensory Deprivation Tank Therapy. Sound baths. Sobriety. Meditation. Veganism. I went to Church until I couldn’t. I’ve had access to everything there is, and here we are.
My presence, as well as my absence, has always been a relief. Nothing applies to me anymore, but punchlines and diagnosis.
Dr. Sonu Gaind, the chief of psychiatry at Sunnybrook hospital- who sounds more and more like a conspiracy theorist- repeatedly declares that MAID MI-SUMC is an “easy way out”. It’s beyond insulting; it is a gross misunderstanding of the complexities of mental illness. Make no mistake, there is nothing easy about dying. It’s a deeply painful decision made in the face of relentless torment. I am trapped in a body that refuses to cooperate. I’ve exhausted every avenue of relief. The idea that doctors and providers will “entice patients to die” is absurd. It perpetuates stereotypes not only of the sick, but psychiatrists. Doctors don’t administer MAID to a non-dying person, monsters do. It's a misconception that undermines the fundamental, sacred nature of medicine; doctors swore an oath to society to be agents of mercy, not the law. Where will it end, indeed!
Gaind is also intent on revoking doctors’ right to conscientious objection. In Canada, doctors can refuse to provide certain medical care based on their personal beliefs and values (abortion, for ex.). I can’t speak to the limits of his idealized moral order, but his zealous bias has already caused potentially life-threatening damage. To clear up any confusion, MAID is not a substitute for therapy, medication, or support groups. Nor will there be rubber-stamped MAID MI-SUMC applications. It’s kind of like, anyone can get a driver's licence, but not everyone does.
Not to brag, but I spend a significant amount of time in Sunnybrook’s psychiatric ward, and not just because I’m in palliative. I’ve been an in-patient, in the intensive psychiatric care unit (IPCU), I did out-patient electroconvulsive therapy (ECT), and in the new year I’m starting repetitive transcranial magnetic stimulation (rTMS).
I believe psychiatrists have the most difficult job in the world, full stop. I have an infinite amount of respect for those nerds- especially the many who’ve treated me at Sunnybrook. In my Yelp review, I rated Sunnybrook Hospital number four out of my top three favourite places in Toronto to get ECT. I’ve been so lucky at that hospital.
I’ve asked my doctors to be with me, at the end.
There is now another federal lawsuit regarding MAID filed by “disability activists”. The complainants’ remonstration is to deny MAID to people with disabilities, which completely undermines my human value and identity because I’m disabled. It’s muddying the waters I’m drowning in. Their message is extremely harmful. It encourages stereotypes by reaffirming we don’t know how to think for ourselves. Let everyone else decide for us.
This isn’t about hurt feelings, maybes, and what ifs.
This is about equal rights. Do you believe in them, or not? Do you see me as your equal, or not? Do the mentally ill belong over here, and you all belong over there? Do I deserve a dignified death, or not? Is my human value less than people whose “sole underlying medical condition” is cancer or ALS? My argument calls on the government for safety and civil rights, not the revocation of them. I’m asking for justification of the pain they are forcing me to endure, beyond my inevitable violent death. I want them to legitimize their reasons and decisions to my parents and my loved ones who can’t bear to watch me suffer anymore.
When someone imposes their moral code on others, it quells openness and objectivity, and it never ends well. Morality is as rational as it is emotional, but morality is not justice. It ebbs and flows with the political tide; it’s ever-changing, and it suits us. Morality fluctuates with experience and we evolve. Morality is complicated. Equality is not.
I’ve been debilitated and confined for years. There are no phone calls, emails, texts. No coffees, no dinners or movies, no going to the store… I am not even alive. I speak to no one but my mother and one of my sisters, doctors, lawyers and reporters.
I always wonder where the obstructionists who spread misinformation (not conscientious objectors) go when they’re finished talking about MAID MI-SUMC. Are they leaving a job? In a car? To eat a normal meal? Maybe even with a person? Do they go home to their partner and kids? Go to a store? Text their friends or make plans? Are they able to touch, or even look at their own body in the shower?
Maybe someone even tells them they love them. Maybe even every day.
Should the legislation stay the same for 2 and a half more years, my end will be as violent and destructive as a murder. The waves of collateral trauma ripple for generations. All I want is to be surrounded by love when I go. No questions left unanswered, nothing left unsaid. I am drowning. What more would you have me do? For how long? MAID is an option to not suffer like a wounded animal at the end of your life. It is the option for a dignified death. You might need it. Someone you love might need it.
Isaac Newton once said that he could calculate the motion of heavenly bodies, but not the madness of people. I won’t pretend that the issue of MAID for those who suffer solely from mental disorders is simple; life and death never is. Equality is simple. I would be different if I could- in what I know, how I feel, and what I do. If I only had a brain, a heart, the nerve.
This is not merely a matter of legislation; it is a matter of humanity. Please find it in your heart to show me some.
