\n<\/p>\n
When she was only 18, a few months into an undergraduate degree in classics at Warwick University, Maddie Cowey was diagnosed with a rare cancer called sarcoma. She had gone to the GP about a lump on her shoulder that had been growing for 18 months. Soon after, she learned that the cancer had spread and was incurable.<\/p>\n
As there are no approved treatments in this country for Cowey\u2019s type of cancer, it has been managed so far through a mix of clinical trials and compassionate-use (individual, rather than group trial) drugs. \u201cThe cancer is not completely stable,\u201d she says. \u201cThe aim is to slow it down. If it shrinks, that\u2019s great.\u201d Now, aged 27, she isn\u2019t experiencing any symptoms from the cancer itself. \u201cI\u2019m in reasonably good health. Most of the issues I\u2019ve had have been side-effects from the treatment.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ve definitely had times where I feel like my young adult years have been taken away from me and I felt more bitter about it,\u201d Cowey says. \u201cI\u2019ve had to process a lot of different things, but I\u2019m in quite a good space now, where I feel accepting of it.\u201d She has just returned from a two-week trip to visit her sister in Vietnam and currently works four days a week for a disabled persons\u2019 charity.<\/p>\n \u201cI know the biggest opponents to assisted dying are the disability rights activists,\u201d Cowey says. \u201cAs someone living with a life-limiting health condition who will have to rely on the state at some point, I completely get the perspective of a disabled person. But the assisted dying bill is specifically for dying people.<\/p>\n \u201cCancer can be so uncertain, especially when it spreads to your organs, and you don\u2019t know which one it\u2019s going to decide to destroy and how painful it\u2019s going to be,\u201d she says. \u201cKnowing there might be an alternative brings a lot of relief and hope. We deserve the right at the end of life to say how it\u2019s going to go.\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Miranda Ashitey died of metastatic breast cancer on 26\u00a0June, less than three weeks after her 43rd birthday. A former administrator and VW camper van driver, she is seen here in South Norwood Lake in south London, close to where she lived.<\/p>\n Ashitey was first diagnosed with stage two breast cancer in 2014. She went into remission for about three years before learning that the cancer had spread in February 2019. \u201cWhat I thought was a seasonal cold lasted a long time, so I eventually went to the doctor,\u201d she later recalled. \u201cThey said I had a chest infection, to take some antibiotics, it\u2019ll be fine. It wasn\u2019t fine.\u201d<\/p>\n Throughout her illness, Ashitey campaigned to raise awareness and improve treatment for those with secondary breast cancer, focusing in particular on the experiences of Black and LGBTQ+ people. Fundraising efforts for cancer charities included the Great North Run, which she completed five times, and a skydive in 2022.<\/p>\n On assisted dying, Ashitey said she could \u201csee both parts\u201d, especially why disabled people might \u201cfeel under more pressure to make a decision that might not be in their interest\u201d. Coming from a west African background also made discussing the possibility of an assisted death with some members of her family \u201ca bit difficult\u201d.<\/p>\n \u201cBut then people need to be able to have that choice if they want to end their lives,\u201d she said. \u201cIt\u2019s like I\u2019m saying, \u2018I\u2019m giving up\u2019 \u2013 but I\u2019m not giving up: I\u2019m facing reality. Being matter-of-fact rather than emotional is how I deal with things, and how this should be dealt with.\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Sophie Blake, 52 (in pink), with her mother Christine (left), daughter Maya (second right) and sister Lucy (right)<\/p>\n<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n <\/span><\/p>\n \u201cI have a family with a lot of cancer in it, and I\u2019ve known people to suffer as they die since I was a teenager,\u201d says Sophie Blake, 52, a former TV presenter and prominent campaigner for assisted dying. \u201cSo I\u2019ve always 100% believed in the right to choose. When I was diagnosed myself, it seemed natural to help campaign for it, whether it happens in my lifetime or\u00a0not.\u201d<\/p>\n Blake, who lives in Brighton with her 18-year-old daughter Maya, received her initial primary breast cancer diagnosis in December 2020. Despite her family history, she was mistakenly told that she had a low risk of recurrence. But as soon as she finished treatment, she started feeling unwell. In May 2022, Blake learned the cancer had metastasised \u2013 to her lungs, liver, pelvic bone and abdominal lymph node. There was also new cancer on the skin where she\u2019d had her lumpectomy.<\/p>\n While the cancer is incurable, Blake has responded well to treatment and there is currently no evidence of active disease in her body \u2013 though the drug holding it at bay comes with challenging side-effects, including fatigue, cornea damage and bone and joint problems. But she\u2019s happy to put up with all of it to stay alive: to keep \u201cmaking memories with friends and family, travelling, adventures, being a mum\u201d.<\/p>\n Blake recognises the \u201cirony\u201d of this focus on extending life alongside campaigning for \u201cthe right to\u00a0have a peaceful and dignified death\u201d. But she required\u00a0multiple surgeries after Maya\u2019s birth, and learned then that she is allergic to opioid painkillers. \u201cThey couldn\u2019t manage my pain properly,\u201d she recalls. \u201cIt was awful.\u201d<\/p>\n The idea of going through a \u201cpotentially excruciating death\u201d with unrelieved pain terrifies Blake but, even more, she doesn\u2019t want her daughter to see her in that state. \u201cI don\u2019t want that to be her final memory of me,\u201d she says. Last year, Maya, who is studying music performance at college in Brighton, joined her mother in campaigning for the assisted dying bill. \u201cIf more people who were against it read up on it,\u201d Maya says, \u201cthey wouldn\u2019t be against it as much.\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Mother and daughter were in the House of Commons, along with Blake\u2019s mother and sister, when MPs passed the bill in June. \u201cThe relief was overwhelming,\u201d Blake says. \u201cCampaigning and discussing my potential death so publicly over the last 18 months has been an intense process, and I was so worried it would have all been for nothing. When the result was read out, I burst out crying \u2013 which isn\u2019t like me at all.\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Barbara Tingey died of bowel cancer at the age of 76, in July 2023. She was diagnosed two years earlier, six months after her daughter Heidi\u2019s husband John had died of the same disease. A former deputy headteacher at a secondary school in Norfolk, Tingey had taught chemistry since the 1960s. After taking early retirement, she and her husband Richard went on holidays, mostly to France, and spent time with family: Heidi, their other daughter Katie, and their three grandchildren.<\/p>\n \u201cShe was so determined to stay alive and beat the odds,\u201d Heidi says. Her mother had three rounds of chemotherapy \u2013 \u201cThen the treatment stopped working.\u201d From early 2023, her condition deteriorated rapidly. Although her family didn\u2019t know it at the time, Tingey decided to stockpile pain medication.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u201cShe didn\u2019t talk about the pain much, because she was trying to not draw attention to the fact she was stockpiling morphine,\u201d Heidi says. But Richard recalls \u201cmonths of sheer agony\u201d, despite good palliative care. At the beginning of July, she attempted to overdose. She was transferred to a hospice and died just over a week later.<\/p>\n \u201cI think Mum did what she did because she was suffering and she couldn\u2019t control when she was going to die,\u201d Heidi says. The experience has convinced Richard to support the right to an assisted death \u201cwith safeguards in place \u2026 I don\u2019t want my two daughters to suffer what we went through with Barbara,\u201d he says.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Lucy Davenport\u2019s husband Tom, a musician and music teacher in Scarborough, died of complications caused by bile duct cancer in August 2023 at the age of 48. He received his diagnosis just a year earlier \u2013 the first sign was the whites of his eyes turning yellow \u2013 and was given 11-12 months to live.<\/p>\n Throughout Davenport\u2019s illness, the couple discussed whether Lucy should help him die \u201cif he got to the point where it was too much\u201d. But they knew she couldn\u2019t risk being arrested and leaving their son Joss, now 10, alone. Lucy\u00a0recalls that at one stage her husband asked a doctor \u00a0\u201cfor something to just make him go to sleep so he didn\u2019t wake up again. The doctor\u2019s response was, \u2018Not unless you grow another two legs and a tail\u2019 \u2013 a\u00a0really blunt statement that I think sums the situation\u00a0up,\u201d says Lucy.<\/p>\n \u201cThat year that we had together we really did it well. We went to Disneyland. Tom and Joss saw Kiss and met them.\u201d They organised a fundraising gig with performances by many of Davenport\u2019s students, friends and bandmates past and present. \u201cIt was beautiful \u2013 like a living wake.\u201d<\/p>\n And in June 2023, the couple \u2013 who had met on a dating site 10 years earlier \u2013 had a surprise wedding (people thought they were going to Lucy\u2019s 40th birthday\u00a0party).<\/p>\n <\/p>\n During his second round of chemotherapy, Davenport became too ill to continue. In hospice, he was made as comfortable as possible. But the cancer had spread to his bowels, causing an obstruction that resulted in faecal vomiting for five hours. Eventually he choked and died.<\/p>\n \u201cIt was very, very traumatic. I have PTSD,\u201d Lucy\u00a0says.\u00a0\u201cHe would be horrified that we went through\u00a0that.\u201d<\/p>\n Lucy and Joss now live with her friend Alice, whom she met many years ago through Davenport. She continues to feel his presence. \u201cHe\u2019s definitely still around. I was listening to a playlist, really silly pop stuff. Then Working Man by Rush came on \u2013 one of Tom\u2019s favourite bands. So I just went, \u2018All right, I\u2019ll leave it on for you.\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Nathaniel Dye , a 39-year-old music teacher living in Essex, started running about a decade ago with what he calls \u201cthe zeal of a late convert\u201d. With hindsight, the first sign that there was something wrong with his health was probably a \u201csmall deterioration in training\u201d. In October 2022, he was diagnosed with stage four bowel cancer. Soon it was discovered to have spread to his lymph nodes. The five-year survival odds were 10%.<\/p>\n In the face of this prognosis, Dye set about cramming as much life in as possible. A year after his diagnosis, he completed a 100-mile run from Essex to London \u2013 possibly the farthest distance anyone has undertaken with a stoma. In April 2024, he did the London marathon while playing the trombone, and that summer embarked on a 60-day, 1,200km walk from John O\u2019Groats in Scotland to Land\u2019s End in Cornwall. \u201cIt just feels like the biggest gift that my body let me do that,\u201d Dye says.<\/p>\n In February, with mounting health issues, he was told he probably had one year to live. \u201cThis may well be my last July. Try getting your head around that,\u201d he says. He saw running the London marathon this past April as a \u201clast chance\u201d and completed it in just under eight hours (although, as a former ultramarathon runner, he admits he \u201cfound it difficult to accept any praise for the achievement\u201d). Since diagnosis, Dye has also raised more than \u00a340,000 (and counting) for Macmillan Cancer Support, receiving an MBE at the end of last year for his efforts.<\/p>\n Less than a month after the marathon, Dye was taken to hospital with a near-fatal pulmonary embolism. He is less and less mobile, which, \u201cas someone formerly so active, is very hard to deal with\u201d, and has decided to take early retirement this summer, after being signed off work sick for most of the past two years. He hopes soon to be able to go on a long-discussed canal holiday with a small group of friends. \u201cIt\u2019s just a case of constantly reassessing expectations based on what my body can do and getting the most out of every day, week, month, whatever timescale it is.\u201d<\/p>\n It\u2019s important for Dye to emphasise how much he wants to keep living while also supporting assisted dying. \u201cThe notion of \u2018assisted suicide\u2019 really, really gets to me, because if there\u2019s anything I\u2019m not, it\u2019s suicidal,\u201d he says. He has in the past struggled with suicidal ideation but since getting his diagnosis \u201cit\u2019s been the total opposite \u2026 That intent to keep going is not, for me, mutually exclusive with the concept of assisted dying at the point where there isn\u2019t any light at the end of the tunnel.\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n In written evidence submitted to parliament, Dye described the passage of the assisted dying bill as his \u201cdying wish\u201d. Now, he says, he \u201cwon\u2019t quite believe it\u2019s real until it becomes law. I don\u2019t speak for all dying \u00adpeople, but I know a change in the law would bring me the greatest comfort as I try to settle into my last weeks and months.\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u201cI grew up knowing I was at risk of Huntington\u2019s and that my mum had it,\u201d says Josh Cook, a 34-year-old rugby coach from Huddersfield. Children have a 50\/50 chance of inheriting the gene that causes the fatal neurodegenerative disorder. The disease \u2013 which shares symptoms with Parkinson\u2019s, dementia and ALS \u2013 goes back generations in Cook\u2019s family. At 18, he learned he had the gene, too. \u201cWe\u2019ve just been unlucky at every coin toss, but I\u2019m not going to have children, so it will stop there,\u201d he says.<\/p>\n Cook\u2019s mum, Lisa, took her own life last year at the age of 57. Her symptoms had begun several years earlier: slurring of speech, involuntary muscle movements, loss of balance. The prognosis was unpredictable; patients usually live for 10-30 years after symptom onset.<\/p>\n \u201cI knew she would never go through with the illness,\u201d Cook says. \u201cMy mum watched my great-grandma go through every stage of it at home. One thing that sticks with me was that Mum saw her wear a hole through the carpet in front of her chair from twitching her legs. My\u00a0mum didn\u2019t want that for herself.\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Cook with his mum at a wedding in 1993 (above, top right) and after she gained her degree from the University of London (above, right bottom). His mum had long been a campaigner for assisted dying \u2013 she is seen (above left, back right) delivering a petition to No 10 with others in 2002<\/p>\n<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n <\/span><\/p>\n Cook, who so far hasn\u2019t had any symptoms, believes he would make the same decision as his mother. That\u2019s\u00a0why a change in the law is so important to him: \u201cSo that people can stop the generational trauma.\u201d He wouldn\u2019t qualify for assisted dying under the law currently being proposed, as in the final stages of \u00a0Huntington\u2019s mental competency is affected. But he is hopeful that the law would give people with this disease a basis to go to court and express their wishes in advance.<\/p>\n \u201cWe are still afraid of death in this country,\u201d he says. \u201cFor a very small group of us, this is something we think about because we have to. The end of my life is going to matter to me as much as the rest of it.\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n A married couple living in Derbyshire, Mick Murray and Carol Taylor have spent the past decade campaigning for assisted dying in memory of their longtime friends, husband and wife Bob Cole and Ann Hall.<\/p>\n In 2013 Hall, a social worker and activist, was diagnosed with a rare terminal neurological condition called progressive supranuclear palsy. Quickly deteriorating, she decided to travel to Dignitas while she was still able in February 2014 \u2013 she was 68. Just over a year later Cole, a former town councillor, learned he had mesothelioma, an aggressive form of lung cancer likely caused by him working with asbestos as an apprentice carpenter in his teens. In August 2015, he, too, made the journey to Dignitas, aged 68.<\/p>\n \u201cThey actually had a choice over the way that they died, and they wanted to die in a way that was dignified,\u201d says Taylor. Murray adds: \u201cThe opponents call it assisted suicide. But the root of suicide is loneliness, despair and depression. This is due to illness. It was almost life-affirming, being there for the actual event. It was really sad, but it certainly wasn\u2019t suicide.\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n But Murray and Taylor are adamant people shouldn\u2019t have to go to Dignitas. \u201cBob and Ann didn\u2019t have any children. They didn\u2019t have any parents alive. When you\u2019ve got family, making that decision, to go and die before you need to, is more difficult,\u201d says Taylor. And beside the often-prohibitive cost, there are bureaucratic challenges, because medical services don\u2019t always cooperate in providing the necessary records. \u201cNo ill person could navigate this system, so other people have to navigate it for them. And in so doing, you become complicit,\u201d says Murray.<\/p>\n On the prospect of the law changing in the not-too-distant future, Taylor says: \u201cIt\u2019s got to be time, hasn\u2019t it?\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u201cHe was very anxious about what was going to happen to him,\u201d says Pauline McLeod, whose husband, Ian, died of motor neurone disease at the age of 76 in 2023. Life expectancy for someone with MND sufferer is typically one to five years \u2013 McLeod had been diagnosed two years earlier. Over the course of the disease, McLeod lost his mobility and his speech and experienced difficulties with swallowing and breathing. \u201cNot having control was terrifying for him,\u201d Pauline says.<\/p>\n Pauline is pictured here in the home she and Ian, a management consultant, shared in North Yorkshire. But they spent a lot of time travelling as well \u2013 to Singapore, Indonesia, Australia. \u201cHe had a very, very full life: travelled a lot, liked fast cars and was pretty fearless, really,\u201d Pauline recalls.<\/p>\n \u201cAnd then the diagnosis was just so devastating \u2013 he couldn\u2019t cope with the restrictions that brought for him. He knew that all he had to look forward to was a steady decline.\u201d McLeod would wake up at night with panic attacks that required sedation. An especially difficult milestone was selling their collection of classic cars. \u201cI caught him in the garage crying. They were his passion; he lost everything he cared about,\u201d says Pauline.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n In June 2022, McLeod attempted to take his own life. Eventually, after he stopped eating and drinking, he was admitted to a hospice where he could die peacefully. \u201cWe were very lucky that they took him, because it\u2019s not the same everywhere,\u201d Pauline says. The prospect of legalised assisted dying would, she thinks, be a form of \u201cclosure \u2026 nobody else has to go through what Ian and I had to go through\u201d.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Anil Douglas, photographed in Golders Hill park, Golders Green, London, where he used to visit with his father<\/p>\n<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n <\/span><\/p>\n Anil is the son of Ian Douglas, who took his own life in February 2019, the day before his 60th birthday. Douglas was suffering from secondary progressive multiple sclerosis, having been diagnosed with the neurodegenerative disease in the 1980s. While MS is incurable, it is not usually considered a terminal illness. However, Douglas\u2019s GP had confirmed that his condition was terminal due to the progressive weakening of his immune system. Largely paralysed and in increasing pain, he decided to end his own life while he was still physically able. In a letter to be read at his funeral, he wrote, \u201cThis was not a cry for help, and I end my life not distraught or depressed, but as happy as I can be in the circumstances.\u201d<\/p>\n However, the circumstances of his death were \u201cdeeply traumatic\u201d, says Anil, who found his father as he was dying. \u201cNothing can prepare you for that experience of grief in real time, like watching a car crash unfold before your eyes.\u201d It later became apparent that Douglas had already made two attempts on his life in the previous weeks. \u201cHis death was a really lonely, dangerous one. He obviously couldn\u2019t tell any of us about his decision.\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Anil as a baby with his dad Ian (top); with his sister Anjili, 34 (ahove), on Hampstead Heath near Kenwood House, where they used to take their dad in his wheelchair<\/p>\n<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n <\/span><\/p>\n The trauma was compounded by a police investigation, which saw five police cars show up at the family home. Anil and his sister\u2019s phones and their father\u2019s electronic devices were confiscated, and the siblings later had to give formal interviews. The investigation \u201chung over our heads for months\u201d.<\/p>\n Afterwards Anil, who also went through the death of his mother Reena from cancer in 2008, began to campaign for changes to the law. \u201cBad deaths scar you for ever,\u201d he says. \u201cWhereas the law currently being proposed would lead to so many more good deaths, where people have the chance to come to terms with the reality of their death.\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Steve Gibson, a 67-year-old former coach driver from south London, was diagnosed with motor neurone disease (MND) in January 2023. Timelines vary for the terminal illness, also known as ALS, but there is no cure or treatment. Gibson, who lives with his daughter Emma and two of his grandchildren, seems to be a slow progressor. But MND will take away his ability to walk, talk, eat and eventually breathe. He has noticed his already deep voice getting \u201ccroakier\u201d due to increased difficulty clearing his throat. As a sociable person, losing the ability to communicate is especially scary; he recently started using a voice-banking app suggested by the NHS. \u201cMy big concern was: am I still going to sound like a south Londoner? And, secondly, can I swear? The answer to both was yes.\u201d<\/p>\n Life-extending options for MND include a feeding tube and a tracheostomy to assist breathing. \u201cInitially, I said, \u2018Yeah, I want everything\u2019, because you want to live for ever,\u201d Gibson says. But he\u2019s since changed his mind. After \u201ca long discussion\u201d with his neurologist, he signed a do not resuscitate order. He remembers taking care of his dad, who died from a different neurological disorder, in the last years of his life. \u201cMy mum couldn\u2019t deal with it. Emotionally, it wrecks you. I don\u2019t want to be like that.\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Gibson wishes he could afford to go to Dignitas, and hopes changes to the law will happen soon enough for him to benefit. He wants to be able to decide when to call it quits. \u201cI\u2019m very happy with the life I\u2019ve had. People ask if I\u2019ve got any regrets. Well, yeah, maybe, but you can\u2019t do anything about it. So we move forward as we are. That\u2019s good enough for me.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" \u2018Knowing there might be an alternative brings relief and hope\u2019 When she was only 18, a few months into an undergraduate degree in classics at Warwick University, Maddie Cowey was diagnosed with a rare cancer called sarcoma. She had gone to the GP about a lump on her shoulder that had been growing for 18<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":12341,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[51],"tags":[140,1295,314,141,2932,4008,364,5911,5912],"class_list":{"0":"post-12340","1":"post","2":"type-post","3":"status-publish","4":"format-standard","5":"has-post-thumbnail","7":"category-health","8":"tag-assisted","9":"tag-bad","10":"tag-deaths","11":"tag-dying","12":"tag-families","13":"tag-ill","14":"tag-people","15":"tag-scar","16":"tag-terminally"},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/naijaglobalnews.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/12340","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/naijaglobalnews.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/naijaglobalnews.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/naijaglobalnews.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/naijaglobalnews.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=12340"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/naijaglobalnews.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/12340\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/naijaglobalnews.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/12341"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/naijaglobalnews.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=12340"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/naijaglobalnews.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=12340"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/naijaglobalnews.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=12340"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}\u2018<\/strong>I\u2019m not giving up<\/strong> \u2013 I\u2019m facing reality\u2019<\/strong><\/h2>\n
\u2018<\/strong>Discussing my potential death so publicly over the last <\/strong>18 months has been intense\u2019<\/strong><\/h2>\n
\n
\u2018She was determined to stay alive \u2013 then the treatment stopped working\u2019<\/strong><\/h2>\n
\u2018He would be horrified to know I have PTSD from seeing him die\u2019<\/strong><\/h2>\n
\u2018A change in the law would bring the greatest comfort as I try to settle into my last weeks\u2019<\/strong><\/h2>\n
\u2018The end of my life is going to matter to me as much as the rest of it\u2019<\/strong><\/h2>\n
\n
\u2018They wanted to die in a dignified way\u2019<\/strong><\/h2>\n
\u2018He had a full life and was fearless\u2019<\/strong><\/h2>\n
\u2018<\/strong>His death was a lonely, dangerous one\u2019<\/strong><\/h2>\n
\n
\n
\u2018I\u2019m very happy with the life I\u2019ve had\u2019<\/strong><\/h2>\n