The choice to undergo euthanasia is one of the most intimate and complex decisions a person can make. Behind each request, there is often a long history of illnesses, failed treatments, and difficult family conversations. However, there are also mothers, fathers, partners, and children who provide support through empathy, even when accepting a loved one's wish to no longer live is painful.
María Alonso—a pseudonym to protect her identity—a 69-year-old woman, accompanied her son last summer through the process that culminated in medical aid in dying at a hospital in the Canary Islands. Today, she recalls that journey with the certainty of having done everything possible and of having been by his side until the end. "I encouraged my son to live, but I understood that he couldn't go on anymore," she states.
According to María, her son was 47 years old when he passed away. He had lived for over two decades with Crohn's disease, a condition that progressively deteriorated his health. "He went through a difficult phase and didn't take care of himself as he should have. He didn't follow the necessary monitoring, and all that had consequences," admits the mother.
For years, the patient underwent various treatments and surgeries, but complications persisted. Prolonged corticosteroid use led to severe physical deterioration, affecting his bones and progressively limiting his autonomy.
As a mother, María held onto hope for improvement, but she observed how the pathology increasingly impacted her son's life. "They offered him a new treatment, but he didn't want to try anything else. He was very tired, had mental health issues, and was a different person," she says.
For the last five years, her son lived with her, with the family being his primary support. María accompanied him to medical appointments, managed treatments, and took on much of the daily care. His three siblings also assisted, but the physical decline made everyday tasks a challenge. Pain was constant, and autonomy diminished daily. "He had a lot of pain, both day and night. He took morphine, but it wasn't enough," she comments.
It was then that the patient expressed his desire for euthanasia. "It was his idea. We made an appointment with his primary care physician, and he communicated his decision. A few days later, different professionals came to our home to support us through the process," she details.
“"The team was very good to us and even told us that if any doubts arose at any time, we could communicate them without issue, and everything would be canceled."
For María, accepting the decision was very difficult, but she understood the extent of her son's suffering. She had witnessed his decline and perfectly understood how he felt. "My son felt that the illness had taken too many things from him. He had lost independence, projects, and much of the life he wished to have. That's why he remained firm until the end," she adds.
The request was approved without significant delays, supported by numerous medical reports documenting the patient's clinical situation. "He was very brave. His desire was so great that on the day he received the injection, he went to the hospital with the same naturalness as someone going for a blood test," María remarks with admiration.
A year later, grief remains, though accompanied by the serenity of knowing she was by his side until the end and respected his will. María keeps photographs of her son at home, dedicating a few minutes to them daily, speaking of him with emotion, affection, and pride. "I don't forget him, and I feel I love him more each day," she asserts.
From this experience, she draws a message for other families facing similar situations: the importance of patience and understanding. When a person suffers and alternatives do not exist, respecting their decision to access a dignified death is another act of love.
María Dolores Fabelo, a social worker and coordinator of the Support Unit for Medical Aid in Dying at the Fuerteventura Health Services Management, explains that the multidisciplinary team supports all involved parties: the applicant, the professionals, and the families.
The goal is for no one to face the procedure alone, ensuring safety, information, and closeness. Fabelo notes that the initial contact usually occurs after a long journey marked by illness and reflection. "These are patients who have gone through many ordeals that have led them to analyze and value what they want for their lives," she points out.
Although each case is different, those who make this determination often arrive with conviction. "The person is clear about what they want to do, but they don't know the procedure or the next steps," she indicates.
The team, comprising social workers, psychologists, and nurses, is present during and after the procedure, also offering support to healthcare professionals who may experience greater emotional impact, especially during their first interventions. "We are accustomed to healing and trying to save lives. Therefore, the first times are usually more intense," warns Fabelo.
So far, the unit has supported six requests on the island of Fuerteventura, four of which were completed. The accumulated experience has led to a shared conclusion: each request holds a different story, but all require listening, support, and guidance. "This is where we truly talk about person-centered care," reflects the coordinator.
Beyond procedures and protocols, the work involves being close to those going through one of life's most significant moments. "We are talking about feelings, about a person who is leaving. And ultimately, we will all leave," she concludes.
