Table 1.
Case 1 | When we did the second assessment, the guards were in the room, and that's something that now that I have a few more gray hairs I would have done differently. I would have asked them to step aside at the beginning. The patient was handcuffed, and he asked during his assessments to be released from his handcuffs. Like I said, it was a difficult assessment, we were concentrated on other issues [including how being in prison affected eligibility and navigating provincial billing and approvals for a federal patient] so it didn't blow up in our faces. -Physician 1 |
Case 2 | “Basically, the institution was his family” and the patient only requested the presence of his closest friend from the prison and his favorite nurse from the unit: |
They were both there, he was very close to them, he had a sunny bright room to die in, and everything in his room was organized the way he wanted it to. When he was ready, he said he was ready, and that's when we gave the medications. -Physician 2 | |
Case 3 |
The MAiD provision was described as the most difficult case that the providing physician had ever been involved with:
because there was no one that loved this man that was in that room. There was me, and the nurse, and a (police) officer—randomly—and two (CSC) guards. And everybody was uncomfortable. And it was just a different level of sad. Essentially, he wasn't dying alone, it was even worse. He was dying with his captors present. And I didn't understand why they needed to be in the room. He asked for music to be playing: some Johnny Cash. So, I'm playing Johnny Cash on my cell phone, trying not to cry, stroking his hand, because no one else was touching him, and pushing medication with the other. -Physician 3 |
CSC, Correctional Service of Canada; MAiD, medical assistance in dying.