My mom, Jan Brackney, had a lovely common life with glimpses of the extraordinary. On Feb. 22, she died like she lived, with full intention and resolution.
In life, she desired a large family. So she had five kids with her husband, Milt, of 62 years. Other than that, she wanted travel, bridge games with friends, and time to read. Fairly common goals, yet she accomplished each with vigor: 48 states and 62 countries spanning nine decades; she started dozens of bridge groups and read an average of over 300 books a year for the last decade of her life.
I always thought Mom was terrific, but perhaps not too unlike other great moms. I never thought of her as courageous. I was wrong.
On the morning of her death, I re-read a note sent to her with love, “Jan, you’re one of the most courageous people I’ve ever met.” Until later that day, I had no idea how true that statement could be.
Even in death, at age 91, with her health deteriorating, she was intentional. Mom had very clear goals for her death: 1) she did not wish to die alone, 2) she did not wish to die in pain 3) she wanted to die in her own home of 56 years. 4) she wished to leave some assets to her children and grandchildren. Mom was clear in these goals and repeatedly told family, friends, and her doctors over decades.
When she had a severe stroke in late January, I effectively moved into my childhood room. After caring for her with the help of family, friends, and Denver Hospice, she added a fifth goal to her first four. She wished to live and die with dignity. She wished to feed herself, stand up and walk by herself, use the bathroom independently, and die on her own terms before she could no longer do those things.
She accomplished all five goals. At 3:30 p.m. on a Wednesday, she said goodbye to a dozen family members, a minister, and a close friend who had gathered to celebrate her life. She walked into her bedroom, sat down in her own bed, and without any pain or discomfort, chose to drink a doctor-prescribed overdose of medicines that ended her life under the Colorado Medical Aid in Dying law passed by voters in 2016.
My mother’s death was calm and comfortable. It was the very best way for her to die, surrounded by her family after two days of celebration, prayer, conversations, singing, and love.
She urges you to consider this option for your life and death.
I must warn you, however, that it wasn’t easy to achieve.
Currently, in Colorado, you likely need to be a voracious and steadfast advocate for your desire to die in the manner you choose. If you haven’t been resolved enough, you’ll likely not have a choice.
Americans should talk about living and dying more and better. We don’t do this well in our culture, and Jan Brackney asked me — several times — to write about her life and death so that others could live well and die with dignity. In her final days, I read her my rough draft for this column — it was her wish — and as always, she got her way despite my struggle to write about a death I was dreading.
My earliest conversations about life and death with my parents consisted of them preaching that they should control their life and their death.
We had dozens of conversations over decades, and they never wavered in their belief. When Milt died nine years ago from complications from Alzheimer’s disease, he wasn’t eligible for aid in dying because he lacked the cognitive ability to decide. And, of course, more importantly, the law had not yet been passed by Colorado voters.
Although my Mom was a dutiful and loving caregiver, her husband eventually had to be moved to a neighborhood group home and then an intensive 24-hour locked-down Alzheimer’s care facility. Although necessary for my dad, that process made Jan even more resolute in her end-of-life decisions.
When her body continued deteriorating, primarily due to congestive heart failure and related issues, she was clear with her doctors. She knew her body was giving out, and she continually asked her doctors and me to help end her life when it was time.
However, the law in Colorado is clear. A person must be of sound mind, emotionally stable, and have it certified by two medical doctors that he or she has a terminal illness with less than six months to live.
That time came shortly after my mother was forced by medical necessity to stop taking a blood thinner that had prevented strokes. We knew what that meant. In late January, Jan was playing bridge with three of her very best friends, and she had a moderate stroke. Instead of calling 911, they led her to lie down and rest on a couch. They later dropped her off at home and called me. Although slightly “off” and confused as to what happened earlier in the day she was comfortable staying alone.
I visited her again in the morning and she was better – hurray! But that afternoon with my brother, she had a major stroke.
We knew what not to do.
My brother didn’t call 911; he just kept her comfortable until I arrived. As her Medical Power of Attorney, I called Kaiser, not for treatment for her stroke or diagnosis, but for a referral for palliative care.
That stroke started a 26-day wait for the end of Mom’s life.
In addition to weakening and lack of ability to control her right arm and left leg, Mom had speech aphasia. She could hear, listen and understand, but she struggled to put even a few words together in a sentence for the last month of her life.
Would she even be eligible for Medical Aid in Dying if she could not clearly articulate her desire? What if she had other strokes that worsened her speech or cognition? The last month of her life was very stressful for me, as I worried I might fail her in her quest to die with dignity.
Mom, however, carried herself with grace, dignity, style, and humor.
I began hoping (I feel horrible by thinking this and even worse writing it) that Mom would die in her sleep rather than with me mixing and handing her a fatal dose of prescribed drugs. Wouldn’t we all like to die in our sleep?
As it turned out, that would have been unfortunate. Mom found unexpected closure in a deathbed conversation with one of her grandsons about the most painful part of her life — the death of her son, Michael.
She listened and smiled often. She laughed with some exasperation all day when her attempts at sentences turned into gibberish due to the aphasia from the stroke. She insisted on slowly dictating thank you notes to all her friends and family who had taken the time to write her letters.
The night before her death, 25 of her kids, grandkids, and their spouses celebrated with Mom and effectively gave her a living eulogy. It was kind of awkward, nice, weird, wonderful and sad. It fit the moment and our family.
The day of her death, we gathered together for the second required-by-law meeting with Dr. Miles Corkern. Dr. Corkern was extraordinarily kind and thoughtful and answered all of our family’s questions and concerns. Mom remained competent and confident, and he prescribed the overdose of medicine to be delivered later that day.
We laughed, we cried, and we prayed. When we recited the Lord’s Prayer together, Mom was able to recite it word for word. It was the only time since her stroke that she could put more than a few words together.
My mother is a lover of people but has led a private life. In death, however, she wished to share her stories to encourage you to live your life fully and to determine how you wish it to end should you be so lucky.
These conversations with family about our intentions — even if we desire to die fighting like hell with medical intervention no matter our age or prognosis — will provide great comfort to all who know us.
Jan’s death with dignity was a gift to her family and friends.
After drinking the liquid prescription herself, Jan heartily enjoyed some mostly melted orange sherbet, sat comfortably for another few minutes, then said something to the effect of “I can feel it.” She carefully lay down and peacefully died a few minutes later.
Just like she wanted.
It was beautiful.
Georgeanne (Jan) Wolever, November 8, 1931 – Ash Wednesday, February 22, 2023.
John Brackney is a former elected official, Army Officer, lifelong Coloradan, and business leader. He hosts a weekly discussion on contemporary public policy with U.S. History Professor Stephen Tootle on Facebook live and posted on Youtube and Spotify. Contact him at JohnBrackney@msn.com.
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