There it was: zero days, seven hours. Another seven hours. To kill some time, she went for a stroll along the canals of Leiden. This will be my last time here, she thought to herself. Her original choice had been the 18th, for the symbolic significance of the number. With the one, she was putting herself first; with the eight, the infinity sign on its side, she was doing so for all eternity. When the psychiatrist called to say that her euthanasia would be happening a day later, she had an 18 tattooed on her neck.
A black hearse nosed out of the alleyway leading to the garden. She stopped in her tracks: this hearse was here for her. The coffin was inside the vehicle. White, because her life had been dark enough. She lay down on the bed, facing the window that she had covered in photos.
It was a small collage of happy memories: her first parachute jump, Barcelona with her mum, Zeeland with her gran, the beach with a friend. Everybody gathered round the bed. Evelien was standing at the head. The psychiatrist ran through everything one last time, step by step. She was afraid that she would still be conscious when her breathing stopped. She smoked a cigarette, went for a stroll with the psychiatrist and, with Evelien, listened to the piano music they had selected for the funeral.
My apologies for any panic that I may have caused. According to figures from the Dutch Regional Euthanasia Review Committees , last year people died by euthanasia for this reason. Twenty-two of these were under the age of Yet at the last minute, she had decided not to go ahead. The next day, she prised the photos off the window in her bedroom. Now that she no longer planned to die, she had to leave the hospice. But where would she go? She had no idea.
Before entering the hospice, she had lived on her own, but she had given notice on her accommodation. But now the anxiety came hurtling back like a boomerang. She was afraid. What would they make of her U-turn? And what was with the radio silence after her message yesterday? Everyday things such as showering, brushing her teeth, getting dressed and sleeping in her own bed were triggers that brought back the most awful memories, which she then would relive all over again.
