At the intimate stage of the Bus Stop Theatre in Halifax, Nova Scotia, 39-year-old April Hubbard readies herself for her last performance, this time not as a dancer, but as a woman saying farewell on her terms.
April is not dying from a terminal illness; she was born with spina bifida and was later diagnosed with spinal tumors. Although she could potentially live for decades, the quality of her everyday life is plagued by extreme pain that no medical intervention has lessened.
In 2023, she received approval under Canada’s assisted dying legislation, a thoughtful, deliberate choice that she is making not out of hopelessness but determination.
“I want to die in a big comfy bed, surrounded by the people I love, holding me. That’s how I want to go,” she tells BBC News, illuminated by a single spotlight on the same stage from which she once danced.
April’s story is a profoundly personal one, but also a significant flashpoint in a growing national and increasingly global discussion about the path forward with Canada’s assisted dying law.
Canada’s assisted dying law, known as Medical Assistance in Dying (MAiD), has ranked among the world’s most liberal since it was enacted in 2016. Originally limited to deadly illnesses, the law was amended in 2021 to include persons like April, who suffers from an incurable condition that is not terminal. By 2027, the law may cover persons who are mentally ill alone.
The statistics are startling: more than 15,000 Canadians choose to pass away from MAiD in 2023, which is around one in every 20 fatalities nationwide. Some see it as an indication of advancement.
For others, it’s alarming. Critics contend that MAiD is becoming the default “treatment” for people with chronic illness and disabilities who feel they have not been provided adequate support. “It’s easier in Canada to get help to die than to get help to live,” said Andrew Gurza, a disability rights advocate and a friend of April’s.
The system has stringent protections in place: two doctors must sign off, evaluations are required, and alternatives have to be explored.
April went through months of assessments before she got approval herself. However, when told about patients feeling pressured (even offered MAiD simply for basic medical support), I understood the alarm. Dr. Ramona Coelho, a family doctor in Ontario, describes what is happening as “out of control.” She’s worried that suffering, which potentialily could have been addressed with care and compassion, is instead being met with death. She even notes, “Canada hasn’t just slid down a slope; we’ve fallen off a cliff.”
April acknowledges that her decision is divisive. But the choice is a reestablishment of peace and power in a life where little of either has existed.”We’re good at hiding pain,” she said. “But there are days I can’t even lift my head or eat. I don’t want to live like that for another 30 years.”
As discussions of parallel legislation occur in the UK, Canada’s growing experience with assisted dying represents a cautionary tale as much as it is a model. But how do we navigate autonomy versus protection versus dignity versus life?
