Portrait picture of Dorrit. She has dark brown hair and smiles at the camera.

Assisted dying: a personal view

Dorrit Pritchard, Convenor, Glasgow Humanists

May 6, 2025

Our Charity

In a new guest blog marking Demystifying Death Week, Glasgow Humanists convenor Dorrit Pritchard shares her story and her support for assisted dying.

My mother didn’t get the death she wanted when she wanted it.

I come from a Jewish family. I mean that in the sense that my family and I were “officially” Jewish. However, none of us followed the religion or believed in any god. I have been an atheist all my life. In fact, I’ve been a humanist all my life. But I didn’t realise that until a few years ago, when I went to a humanist wedding. It was the loveliest, most personal and appropriate ceremony I had ever been to. Talking to the celebrant afterwards lead me to joining Humanist Society of Scotland.

I absolutely believe in freedom of choice, whether you have faith or not. We humanists say “freedom of religion, freedom from religion”. We have no choice in how we enter this world. But I believe we should have a choice in how we leave it. If you believe there is something beyond this life, I respect that and your choices. But humanists believe there is only this life. So please, respect my choices and the choices of the majority who support assisted dying.

I absolutely believe in freedom of choice, whether you have faith or not. We humanists say “freedom of religion, freedom from religion”. We have no choice in how we enter this world. But I believe we should have a choice in how we leave it.

On a personal note, I didn’t have a great relationship with my mum, for various reasons. But I want to talk about her death, not her life: what happened and why, my part in it, and how it has affected my views on assisted dying.

When I knew my mum was dying, I made a point of spending time with her, first in her care home, and then in a hospice. I made sure that this time with her was as positive and enjoyable for both of us as it could be. I didn’t want to have any regrets or for our relationship to end on a bad note. In this sense, the knowledge that she only had a few months to live made this possible, for which I am extremely grateful.

I particularly remember one afternoon I spent with her. I talked to her about my childhood, we shared some happy memories and I recalled the songs and nursery rhymes she used to sing to me. I got her to sing them to me again so I could learn the words. Some of them were in Polish as she was born in Poland. I was pregnant at the time and hoped to sing some of them to my child. It was such a lovely experience. I still well up when I think about it. I’m so grateful I was able to give that special time to both of us.

I would have done everything in my power to make sure my mum got the death that she wanted when she wanted it and to have been there with her.

Some time later, I got a call to say my mum had collapsed at her care home and been taken to hospital. I rushed to A&E to arrive and hear her berating the doctor for reviving her. She was angry, saying he should have let her go, not revived her. I apologised to the doctor, he was only doing his job as specified by the health service, the law and his belief in the best care for her. Soon after, she told me she wanted a Do Not Resuscitate notice. She actually said she wanted it in her will! I tried a couple of times to explain why this wouldn’t work. Then I gave up and agreed to get it set up. I was happy to do this for her, as that’s what she wanted. It was a relief for me to know she would not suffer unduly and would have the death that she wanted.

A few months later, I had a call from the hospice saying that I should think about getting there soon. As ever, we use euphemisms when it comes to death. An hour or two later, while I was making plans to travel from Glasgow to London to say goodbye to my mum, there was another call to say she had died. The nurse told me her last words, which mum had asked her to pass on. Her last words were “tell Dorrit not to worry”. That was such a typical thing for her to say. She was a born worrier, or possibly learnt to worry due to being Jewish and a child at the start of the Second World War. Anyway, it was a poignant, touching and reassuring thing to hear.

If assisted dying had then been an option, I’m sure we would have been able to discuss it and agree what she wanted. I would have done everything in my power to make sure my mum got the death that she wanted when she wanted it, and to have been there with her. It is so important to have those difficult conversations. We should not force people to endure great physical or emotional suffering at the end of their life. If we want assistance top ensure a dignified, pain-free, and timely end, then assisted dying legislation is essential.