It’s a really long story and worth reading.
There are pitfalls in the way the Canadian law is written but for certain folks it is a blessing.
I’ll start you off but please finish at the link.
The party should take up a big section of Swiss Chalet, a family-style chain restaurant on the road out of town. Shields wanted his last supper to be one he so often enjoyed on Friday nights when he was a young Catholic priest – rotisserie chicken legs with gravy.
Then, his family would take him home and he would die there in the morning, preferably in the garden. It was his favorite spot, rocky and wild. Flowering native shrubs pressed in from all sides, and a stone Buddha and birdbath peeked out from among the ferns and boulders. Before he got sick, Shields liked to sit in his old Adirondack chair and watch the bald eagles train their juveniles to soar overhead. He meditated there twice a day, among the towering Douglas firs.
“Someone once asked me how did I get to become unique,” he said that afternoon in his hospice bed. “I recommend meditation as a starting place – bringing your consciousness to bear.” Shields intended to die swiftly and peacefully by lethal injection, administered by his doctor. In June, the Canadian government legalized what it termed “medical assistance in dying” for competent adult patients who are near death and suffering intolerably from irremediable illnesses. When his doctor, Stefanie Green, informed him that he qualified, Shields felt the first hope since a doctor told him more than a year before that he had a rare and incurable disease called amyloidosis, which caused proteins to build up in his heart and painfully damage the nerves in his arms and legs.
Having control over the terms of his death made him feel empowered over the disease rather than crippled by it, a common response among Green’s patients. Shields believed that dying openly and without fear could be his most meaningful legacy – which was saying something. The man had packed five lifetimes of service into one: he had been a civil rights activist, a social worker for children, the head of British Columbia’s biggest union and, most recently, the savior of a floundering land trust that included 7,191 acres of protected wilderness and historic properties.