Seòmar agus comataidhean

To ask the First Minister, in light of the reported rise in protests and rhetoric aimed at immigrants and minority groups, what action any future Scottish administration can take to restore kindness, decency and tolerance to politics. (S6F-04786)

I associate myself with those words. In asking what is potentially my final question, I wish all members across the chamber the very best in the future.

The reality is that, in recent times, we have seen a rise in antisemitic abuse and far-right protests. There are people who aspire to become members of the Scottish Parliament who are spouting Islamophobic bile on social media and cracking jokes at the expense of gay people.

When I joined this place a decade ago, there was genuine desire to find common ground on some difficult societal issues on Gypsy Travellers, migrants, refugees and transgender people—people who are our friends, our neighbours and our fellow Scots.

Ten years on, I am utterly saddened to hear politicians use language that reduces people to adjectives such as “dangerous”, “unwanted” and “unwelcome”. I challenge not just the First Minister but the leaders of all the political parties that hope to return members to this place to commit their parties in the next parliamentary session to using their privilege of platform wisely, to debating with decency and to remembering that the language that is used in here affects people out there. I hope that we can do politics better, and that we can all agree that hatred will never, ever have a place in this Parliament.

I thank Lorna Slater for that speech—that was beautiful. I think that, tonight, we have heard some of the most profound and powerful speeches I have ever heard in this place, and I thank all members for that.

On a more positive note, friends, I celebrate another year alive this week, but I do so while also remembering those we have all loved and lost. It is bittersweet to end my time here discussing death. I voted to pass this bill at stage 1, like others, to let it run its course, and I have said little since. I think that we have done it justice. Half of the amendments that passed came from those who opposed the bill. I wish that we made more laws like this.

The debate ranged from fears of the worst of humanity on one side to well-meaning compassion on the other. I think that I sit somewhere in the middle, because there is always risk when making law. Our task is to weigh up that risk and mitigate it where we can. No bill is perfect, so the question we must ask ourselves is not an abstract one. If I or someone I love want that choice at the end, will it be there?

I want to speak plainly and from the heart, because I was deeply conflicted by this subject. Although every one of us will die, few of us will have a choice about the timing or manner of our death, and some argue that that is how it should be.

Truth be told, I do not want to die. I am afraid of it. After some recent ill health, I have spent many moments thinking about my own mortality. Will my death be quiet and peaceful, or accidental and sudden? Will it be painless or painful? In reality, our end-of-life choices are not always truly choices—do not resuscitate, nil by mouth, morphine, let nature take its course—but the one thing I cannot get out of my head is this: what if? What if palliative care can do nothing more for me? What if, in excruciating pain, I lose my dignity and control? What if I wish the end would come sooner and in a manner of my choosing? What if I would rather say my goodbyes with a smile on my face and perhaps a tear in my eye—not when I can neither see nor hear my loved ones? What if my body is spent but my mind is staunch and I decide that my time has come?

Regulated assisted dying already exists, but, disgracefully, only for those with the means to access it. Unregulated, unassisted dying exists by way of suicide, and that cannot be right. How is that in any way a choice?

I fear a painful death more than death itself, so the dilemma that I have grappled with is simple. God forbid the day ever comes when I need that choice, but would I rather it was there or not? Members must ask themselves the same question—there or not?

If I want that choice at the very end, I must offer that choice to others. I have no privilege in death. If we vote to deny people that choice tonight, we deny everyone that choice, including ourselves and including people out there who one day might need it—and who am I to deny someone that most final of decisions in life?

Dignity in death is not just a slogan—it is a right. When it comes to assisted dying, I believe, in my heart of hearts, that more people would be harmed by its absence than by its presence. If we vote against the bill and it falls, I believe that I would wake up tomorrow and regret it, and I think that others in the chamber might, too. I could not look someone in their eyes in their dying days and tell them that I denied them that choice.

I will sum up in the words of Diane, who wrote to us all on Saturday afternoon. She simply says this:

“It is better to have it and not need it than to need it and not have it. It is my body, my life and my death. Only I will know when enough is enough. Please grant me the choice to fulfil my dying wish .”

I say to Diane that, tonight, I will do just that. I make this plea to others: it is not too late to change your mind. No one will judge you for that. Vote to give me that choice. Vote to give yourselves that choice. Vote to give everyone that choice.

20:37

I thank Lorna Slater for that speech—that was beautiful. I think that, tonight, we have heard some of the most profound and powerful speeches I have ever heard in this place, and I thank all members for that.

On a more positive note, friends, I celebrate another year alive this week, but I do so while also remembering those we have all loved and lost. It is bittersweet to end my time here discussing death. I voted to pass this bill at stage 1, like others, to let it run its course, and I have said little since. I think that we have done it justice. Half of the amendments that passed came from those who opposed the bill. I wish that we made more laws like this.

The debate ranged from fears of the worst of humanity on one side to well-meaning compassion on the other. I think that I sit somewhere in the middle, because there is always risk when making law. Our task is to weigh up that risk and mitigate it where we can. No bill is perfect, so the question we must ask ourselves is not an abstract one. If I or someone I love want that choice at the end, will it be there?

I want to speak plainly and from the heart, because I was deeply conflicted by this subject. Although every one of us will die, few of us will have a choice about the timing or manner of our death, and some argue that that is how it should be.

Truth be told, I do not want to die. I am afraid of it. After some recent ill health, I have spent many moments thinking about my own mortality. Will my death be quiet and peaceful, or accidental and sudden? Will it be painless or painful? In reality, our end-of-life choices are not always truly choices—do not resuscitate, nil by mouth, morphine, let nature take its course—but the one thing I cannot get out of my head is this: what if? What if palliative care can do nothing more for me? What if, in excruciating pain, I lose my dignity and control? What if I wish the end would come sooner and in a manner of my choosing? What if I would rather say my goodbyes with a smile on my face and perhaps a tear in my eye—not when I can neither see nor hear my loved ones? What if my body is spent but my mind is staunch and I decide that my time has come?

Regulated assisted dying already exists, but, disgracefully, only for those with the means to access it. Unregulated, unassisted dying exists by way of suicide, and that cannot be right. How is that in any way a choice?

I fear a painful death more than death itself, so the dilemma that I have grappled with is simple. God forbid the day ever comes when I need that choice, but would I rather it was there or not? Members must ask themselves the same question—there or not?

If I want that choice at the very end, I must offer that choice to others. I have no privilege in death. If we vote to deny people that choice tonight, we deny everyone that choice, including ourselves and including people out there who one day might need it—and who am I to deny someone that most final of decisions in life?

Dignity in death is not just a slogan—it is a right. When it comes to assisted dying, I believe, in my heart of hearts, that more people would be harmed by its absence than by its presence. If we vote against the bill and it falls, I believe that I would wake up tomorrow and regret it, and I think that others in the chamber might, too. I could not look someone in their eyes in their dying days and tell them that I denied them that choice.

I will sum up in the words of Diane, who wrote to us all on Saturday afternoon. She simply says this:

“It is better to have it and not need it than to need it and not have it. It is my body, my life and my death. Only I will know when enough is enough. Please grant me the choice to fulfil my dying wish .”

I say to Diane that, tonight, I will do just that. I make this plea to others: it is not too late to change your mind. No one will judge you for that. Vote to give me that choice. Vote to give yourselves that choice. Vote to give everyone that choice.

20:37

I thank Lorna Slater for that speech—that was beautiful. I think that, tonight, we have heard some of the most profound and powerful speeches I have ever heard in this place, and I thank all members for that.

On a more positive note, friends, I celebrate another year alive this week, but I do so while also remembering those we have all loved and lost. It is bittersweet to end my time here discussing death. I voted to pass this bill at stage 1, like others, to let it run its course, and I have said little since. I think that we have done it justice. Half of the amendments that passed came from those who opposed the bill. I wish that we made more laws like this.

The debate ranged from fears of the worst of humanity on one side to well-meaning compassion on the other. I think that I sit somewhere in the middle, because there is always risk when making law. Our task is to weigh up that risk and mitigate it where we can. No bill is perfect, so the question we must ask ourselves is not an abstract one. If I or someone I love want that choice at the end, will it be there?

I want to speak plainly and from the heart, because I was deeply conflicted by this subject. Although every one of us will die, few of us will have a choice about the timing or manner of our death, and some argue that that is how it should be.

Truth be told, I do not want to die. I am afraid of it. After some recent ill health, I have spent many moments thinking about my own mortality. Will my death be quiet and peaceful, or accidental and sudden? Will it be painless or painful? In reality, our end-of-life choices are not always truly choices—do not resuscitate, nil by mouth, morphine, let nature take its course—but the one thing I cannot get out of my head is this: what if? What if palliative care can do nothing more for me? What if, in excruciating pain, I lose my dignity and control? What if I wish the end would come sooner and in a manner of my choosing? What if I would rather say my goodbyes with a smile on my face and perhaps a tear in my eye—not when I can neither see nor hear my loved ones? What if my body is spent but my mind is staunch and I decide that my time has come?

Regulated assisted dying already exists, but, disgracefully, only for those with the means to access it. Unregulated, unassisted dying exists by way of suicide, and that cannot be right. How is that in any way a choice?

I fear a painful death more than death itself, so the dilemma that I have grappled with is simple. God forbid the day ever comes when I need that choice, but would I rather it was there or not? Members must ask themselves the same question—there or not?

If I want that choice at the very end, I must offer that choice to others. I have no privilege in death. If we vote to deny people that choice tonight, we deny everyone that choice, including ourselves and including people out there who one day might need it—and who am I to deny someone that most final of decisions in life?

Dignity in death is not just a slogan—it is a right. When it comes to assisted dying, I believe, in my heart of hearts, that more people would be harmed by its absence than by its presence. If we vote against the bill and it falls, I believe that I would wake up tomorrow and regret it, and I think that others in the chamber might, too. I could not look someone in their eyes in their dying days and tell them that I denied them that choice.

I will sum up in the words of Diane, who wrote to us all on Saturday afternoon. She simply says this:

“It is better to have it and not need it than to need it and not have it. It is my body, my life and my death. Only I will know when enough is enough. Please grant me the choice to fulfil my dying wish .”

I say to Diane that, tonight, I will do just that. I make this plea to others: it is not too late to change your mind. No one will judge you for that. Vote to give me that choice. Vote to give yourselves that choice. Vote to give everyone that choice.

20:37

I thank Lorna Slater for that speech—that was beautiful. I think that, tonight, we have heard some of the most profound and powerful speeches I have ever heard in this place, and I thank all members for that.

On a more positive note, friends, I celebrate another year alive this week, but I do so while also remembering those we have all loved and lost. It is bittersweet to end my time here discussing death. I voted to pass this bill at stage 1, like others, to let it run its course, and I have said little since. I think that we have done it justice. Half of the amendments that passed came from those who opposed the bill. I wish that we made more laws like this.

The debate ranged from fears of the worst of humanity on one side to well-meaning compassion on the other. I think that I sit somewhere in the middle, because there is always risk when making law. Our task is to weigh up that risk and mitigate it where we can. No bill is perfect, so the question we must ask ourselves is not an abstract one. If I or someone I love want that choice at the end, will it be there?

I want to speak plainly and from the heart, because I was deeply conflicted by this subject. Although every one of us will die, few of us will have a choice about the timing or manner of our death, and some argue that that is how it should be.

Truth be told, I do not want to die. I am afraid of it. After some recent ill health, I have spent many moments thinking about my own mortality. Will my death be quiet and peaceful, or accidental and sudden? Will it be painless or painful? In reality, our end-of-life choices are not always truly choices—do not resuscitate, nil by mouth, morphine, let nature take its course—but the one thing I cannot get out of my head is this: what if? What if palliative care can do nothing more for me? What if, in excruciating pain, I lose my dignity and control? What if I wish the end would come sooner and in a manner of my choosing? What if I would rather say my goodbyes with a smile on my face and perhaps a tear in my eye—not when I can neither see nor hear my loved ones? What if my body is spent but my mind is staunch and I decide that my time has come?

Regulated assisted dying already exists, but, disgracefully, only for those with the means to access it. Unregulated, unassisted dying exists by way of suicide, and that cannot be right. How is that in any way a choice?

I fear a painful death more than death itself, so the dilemma that I have grappled with is simple. God forbid the day ever comes when I need that choice, but would I rather it was there or not? Members must ask themselves the same question—there or not?

If I want that choice at the very end, I must offer that choice to others. I have no privilege in death. If we vote to deny people that choice tonight, we deny everyone that choice, including ourselves and including people out there who one day might need it—and who am I to deny someone that most final of decisions in life?

Dignity in death is not just a slogan—it is a right. When it comes to assisted dying, I believe, in my heart of hearts, that more people would be harmed by its absence than by its presence. If we vote against the bill and it falls, I believe that I would wake up tomorrow and regret it, and I think that others in the chamber might, too. I could not look someone in their eyes in their dying days and tell them that I denied them that choice.

I will sum up in the words of Diane, who wrote to us all on Saturday afternoon. She simply says this:

“It is better to have it and not need it than to need it and not have it. It is my body, my life and my death. Only I will know when enough is enough. Please grant me the choice to fulfil my dying wish .”

I say to Diane that, tonight, I will do just that. I make this plea to others: it is not too late to change your mind. No one will judge you for that. Vote to give me that choice. Vote to give yourselves that choice. Vote to give everyone that choice.

20:37

I thank Lorna Slater for that speech—that was beautiful. I think that, tonight, we have heard some of the most profound and powerful speeches I have ever heard in this place, and I thank all members for that.

On a more positive note, friends, I celebrate another year alive this week, but I do so while also remembering those we have all loved and lost. It is bittersweet to end my time here discussing death. I voted to pass this bill at stage 1, like others, to let it run its course, and I have said little since. I think that we have done it justice. Half of the amendments that passed came from those who opposed the bill. I wish that we made more laws like this.

The debate ranged from fears of the worst of humanity on one side to well-meaning compassion on the other. I think that I sit somewhere in the middle, because there is always risk when making law. Our task is to weigh up that risk and mitigate it where we can. No bill is perfect, so the question we must ask ourselves is not an abstract one. If I or someone I love want that choice at the end, will it be there?

I want to speak plainly and from the heart, because I was deeply conflicted by this subject. Although every one of us will die, few of us will have a choice about the timing or manner of our death, and some argue that that is how it should be.

Truth be told, I do not want to die. I am afraid of it. After some recent ill health, I have spent many moments thinking about my own mortality. Will my death be quiet and peaceful, or accidental and sudden? Will it be painless or painful? In reality, our end-of-life choices are not always truly choices—do not resuscitate, nil by mouth, morphine, let nature take its course—but the one thing I cannot get out of my head is this: what if? What if palliative care can do nothing more for me? What if, in excruciating pain, I lose my dignity and control? What if I wish the end would come sooner and in a manner of my choosing? What if I would rather say my goodbyes with a smile on my face and perhaps a tear in my eye—not when I can neither see nor hear my loved ones? What if my body is spent but my mind is staunch and I decide that my time has come?

Regulated assisted dying already exists, but, disgracefully, only for those with the means to access it. Unregulated, unassisted dying exists by way of suicide, and that cannot be right. How is that in any way a choice?

I fear a painful death more than death itself, so the dilemma that I have grappled with is simple. God forbid the day ever comes when I need that choice, but would I rather it was there or not? Members must ask themselves the same question—there or not?

If I want that choice at the very end, I must offer that choice to others. I have no privilege in death. If we vote to deny people that choice tonight, we deny everyone that choice, including ourselves and including people out there who one day might need it—and who am I to deny someone that most final of decisions in life?

Dignity in death is not just a slogan—it is a right. When it comes to assisted dying, I believe, in my heart of hearts, that more people would be harmed by its absence than by its presence. If we vote against the bill and it falls, I believe that I would wake up tomorrow and regret it, and I think that others in the chamber might, too. I could not look someone in their eyes in their dying days and tell them that I denied them that choice.

I will sum up in the words of Diane, who wrote to us all on Saturday afternoon. She simply says this:

“It is better to have it and not need it than to need it and not have it. It is my body, my life and my death. Only I will know when enough is enough. Please grant me the choice to fulfil my dying wish .”

I say to Diane that, tonight, I will do just that. I make this plea to others: it is not too late to change your mind. No one will judge you for that. Vote to give me that choice. Vote to give yourselves that choice. Vote to give everyone that choice.

20:37

I thank Lorna Slater for that speech—that was beautiful. I think that, tonight, we have heard some of the most profound and powerful speeches I have ever heard in this place, and I thank all members for that.

On a more positive note, friends, I celebrate another year alive this week, but I do so while also remembering those we have all loved and lost. It is bittersweet to end my time here discussing death. I voted to pass this bill at stage 1, like others, to let it run its course, and I have said little since. I think that we have done it justice. Half of the amendments that passed came from those who opposed the bill. I wish that we made more laws like this.

The debate ranged from fears of the worst of humanity on one side to well-meaning compassion on the other. I think that I sit somewhere in the middle, because there is always risk when making law. Our task is to weigh up that risk and mitigate it where we can. No bill is perfect, so the question we must ask ourselves is not an abstract one. If I or someone I love want that choice at the end, will it be there?

I want to speak plainly and from the heart, because I was deeply conflicted by this subject. Although every one of us will die, few of us will have a choice about the timing or manner of our death, and some argue that that is how it should be.

Truth be told, I do not want to die. I am afraid of it. After some recent ill health, I have spent many moments thinking about my own mortality. Will my death be quiet and peaceful, or accidental and sudden? Will it be painless or painful? In reality, our end-of-life choices are not always truly choices—do not resuscitate, nil by mouth, morphine, let nature take its course—but the one thing I cannot get out of my head is this: what if? What if palliative care can do nothing more for me? What if, in excruciating pain, I lose my dignity and control? What if I wish the end would come sooner and in a manner of my choosing? What if I would rather say my goodbyes with a smile on my face and perhaps a tear in my eye—not when I can neither see nor hear my loved ones? What if my body is spent but my mind is staunch and I decide that my time has come?

Regulated assisted dying already exists, but, disgracefully, only for those with the means to access it. Unregulated, unassisted dying exists by way of suicide, and that cannot be right. How is that in any way a choice?

I fear a painful death more than death itself, so the dilemma that I have grappled with is simple. God forbid the day ever comes when I need that choice, but would I rather it was there or not? Members must ask themselves the same question—there or not?

If I want that choice at the very end, I must offer that choice to others. I have no privilege in death. If we vote to deny people that choice tonight, we deny everyone that choice, including ourselves and including people out there who one day might need it—and who am I to deny someone that most final of decisions in life?

Dignity in death is not just a slogan—it is a right. When it comes to assisted dying, I believe, in my heart of hearts, that more people would be harmed by its absence than by its presence. If we vote against the bill and it falls, I believe that I would wake up tomorrow and regret it, and I think that others in the chamber might, too. I could not look someone in their eyes in their dying days and tell them that I denied them that choice.

I will sum up in the words of Diane, who wrote to us all on Saturday afternoon. She simply says this:

“It is better to have it and not need it than to need it and not have it. It is my body, my life and my death. Only I will know when enough is enough. Please grant me the choice to fulfil my dying wish .”

I say to Diane that, tonight, I will do just that. I make this plea to others: it is not too late to change your mind. No one will judge you for that. Vote to give me that choice. Vote to give yourselves that choice. Vote to give everyone that choice.

20:37

I thank Lorna Slater for that speech—that was beautiful. I think that, tonight, we have heard some of the most profound and powerful speeches I have ever heard in this place, and I thank all members for that.

On a more positive note, friends, I celebrate another year alive this week, but I do so while also remembering those we have all loved and lost. It is bittersweet to end my time here discussing death. I voted to pass this bill at stage 1, like others, to let it run its course, and I have said little since. I think that we have done it justice. Half of the amendments that passed came from those who opposed the bill. I wish that we made more laws like this.

The debate ranged from fears of the worst of humanity on one side to well-meaning compassion on the other. I think that I sit somewhere in the middle, because there is always risk when making law. Our task is to weigh up that risk and mitigate it where we can. No bill is perfect, so the question we must ask ourselves is not an abstract one. If I or someone I love want that choice at the end, will it be there?

I want to speak plainly and from the heart, because I was deeply conflicted by this subject. Although every one of us will die, few of us will have a choice about the timing or manner of our death, and some argue that that is how it should be.

Truth be told, I do not want to die. I am afraid of it. After some recent ill health, I have spent many moments thinking about my own mortality. Will my death be quiet and peaceful, or accidental and sudden? Will it be painless or painful? In reality, our end-of-life choices are not always truly choices—do not resuscitate, nil by mouth, morphine, let nature take its course—but the one thing I cannot get out of my head is this: what if? What if palliative care can do nothing more for me? What if, in excruciating pain, I lose my dignity and control? What if I wish the end would come sooner and in a manner of my choosing? What if I would rather say my goodbyes with a smile on my face and perhaps a tear in my eye—not when I can neither see nor hear my loved ones? What if my body is spent but my mind is staunch and I decide that my time has come?

Regulated assisted dying already exists, but, disgracefully, only for those with the means to access it. Unregulated, unassisted dying exists by way of suicide, and that cannot be right. How is that in any way a choice?

I fear a painful death more than death itself, so the dilemma that I have grappled with is simple. God forbid the day ever comes when I need that choice, but would I rather it was there or not? Members must ask themselves the same question—there or not?

If I want that choice at the very end, I must offer that choice to others. I have no privilege in death. If we vote to deny people that choice tonight, we deny everyone that choice, including ourselves and including people out there who one day might need it—and who am I to deny someone that most final of decisions in life?

Dignity in death is not just a slogan—it is a right. When it comes to assisted dying, I believe, in my heart of hearts, that more people would be harmed by its absence than by its presence. If we vote against the bill and it falls, I believe that I would wake up tomorrow and regret it, and I think that others in the chamber might, too. I could not look someone in their eyes in their dying days and tell them that I denied them that choice.

I will sum up in the words of Diane, who wrote to us all on Saturday afternoon. She simply says this:

“It is better to have it and not need it than to need it and not have it. It is my body, my life and my death. Only I will know when enough is enough. Please grant me the choice to fulfil my dying wish .”

I say to Diane that, tonight, I will do just that. I make this plea to others: it is not too late to change your mind. No one will judge you for that. Vote to give me that choice. Vote to give yourselves that choice. Vote to give everyone that choice.

20:37

I thank Lorna Slater for that speech—that was beautiful. I think that, tonight, we have heard some of the most profound and powerful speeches I have ever heard in this place, and I thank all members for that.

On a more positive note, friends, I celebrate another year alive this week, but I do so while also remembering those we have all loved and lost. It is bittersweet to end my time here discussing death. I voted to pass this bill at stage 1, like others, to let it run its course, and I have said little since. I think that we have done it justice. Half of the amendments that passed came from those who opposed the bill. I wish that we made more laws like this.

The debate ranged from fears of the worst of humanity on one side to well-meaning compassion on the other. I think that I sit somewhere in the middle, because there is always risk when making law. Our task is to weigh up that risk and mitigate it where we can. No bill is perfect, so the question we must ask ourselves is not an abstract one. If I or someone I love want that choice at the end, will it be there?

I want to speak plainly and from the heart, because I was deeply conflicted by this subject. Although every one of us will die, few of us will have a choice about the timing or manner of our death, and some argue that that is how it should be.

Truth be told, I do not want to die. I am afraid of it. After some recent ill health, I have spent many moments thinking about my own mortality. Will my death be quiet and peaceful, or accidental and sudden? Will it be painless or painful? In reality, our end-of-life choices are not always truly choices—do not resuscitate, nil by mouth, morphine, let nature take its course—but the one thing I cannot get out of my head is this: what if? What if palliative care can do nothing more for me? What if, in excruciating pain, I lose my dignity and control? What if I wish the end would come sooner and in a manner of my choosing? What if I would rather say my goodbyes with a smile on my face and perhaps a tear in my eye—not when I can neither see nor hear my loved ones? What if my body is spent but my mind is staunch and I decide that my time has come?

Regulated assisted dying already exists, but, disgracefully, only for those with the means to access it. Unregulated, unassisted dying exists by way of suicide, and that cannot be right. How is that in any way a choice?

I fear a painful death more than death itself, so the dilemma that I have grappled with is simple. God forbid the day ever comes when I need that choice, but would I rather it was there or not? Members must ask themselves the same question—there or not?

If I want that choice at the very end, I must offer that choice to others. I have no privilege in death. If we vote to deny people that choice tonight, we deny everyone that choice, including ourselves and including people out there who one day might need it—and who am I to deny someone that most final of decisions in life?

Dignity in death is not just a slogan—it is a right. When it comes to assisted dying, I believe, in my heart of hearts, that more people would be harmed by its absence than by its presence. If we vote against the bill and it falls, I believe that I would wake up tomorrow and regret it, and I think that others in the chamber might, too. I could not look someone in their eyes in their dying days and tell them that I denied them that choice.

I will sum up in the words of Diane, who wrote to us all on Saturday afternoon. She simply says this:

“It is better to have it and not need it than to need it and not have it. It is my body, my life and my death. Only I will know when enough is enough. Please grant me the choice to fulfil my dying wish .”

I say to Diane that, tonight, I will do just that. I make this plea to others: it is not too late to change your mind. No one will judge you for that. Vote to give me that choice. Vote to give yourselves that choice. Vote to give everyone that choice.

20:37