Thank you ever so much for tuning in today. In a moment, we are going to be bringing you a a pretty unique actually and an untold story. It is a story that is so powerful and so divisive that our guest has requested complete anonymity. So we are gonna ask that you listen to a letter that this brave woman wrote, and I'm gonna ask that you do it with an open mind and a kind heart. Because this letter describes in detail how our guests, terminally ill husband, made the decision to travel to Switzerland to die on his own terms. What this woman endured and how dreadfully her husband suffered is, my conversations around this issue are so vital. None of us are getting any younger, and death is the inevitable end for us all. So we would ask yourself after this episode, think about what you hear and what you might want in the same position on Friday, we have a representative from Dignity and Dying joining us, and she'll be answering any questions that you've got following this episode. But for now, I'm going to hand you over to Lulu and some of the most powerful words that you will ever hear.

Every widow has a story to tell, and this is mine. It's a story of love, anticipator grief, bravery, and sacrifice. I met my husband in 1995. We got engaged on Valentine's Day, 1996, and married the following year. Everyone said it wouldn't last because of our 15 year age difference, but we proved them. We were together for 23 years and married for just over 21 years. We had a good life. My husband was a senior police officer with 30 years service. He retired, handed his uniform in on Friday and returned as a civilian on the Monday. He was a judo instructor, side handle baton trainer, and taught self-defense. He was also voted rear of the year, three years in a row at the local police station. A fact he never let me forget. In 2013, he complained of insomnia and restless legs. The following year, he started to sleep, walk, and act out his dreams. I lost count the number of times he fell outta bed whilst acting out the dream. We carried on with our lives and learned to cope. Over time, I noticed a tremor in his legs. This was attributed to his bad back, which he had damaged. Years ago when chasing an offender, he had several steroid injections to alleviate the. By 2016, he started to stumble over basic words, appeared forgetful, and the tremors got worse. Our GP consultant, orthopedic surgeon and the physios put the tremors down to his back and the painkillers. It was agreed that these would ABA once he had the spine fusion surgery. We went on a three week cruise in late 2016, and his behavior was, He would often have a vacant look on his face was belligerent, rude, and argumentative, all out of character for him. We went to the GP on our return because of the tremors, and in order to rule out anything more sinister like Parkinson's, the GP referred him to a neurologist. We saw the neurologist at the end of the year. He agreed The tremors were more than likely caused by his back problems, but he would see him in a year once he had the surgery. We plotted on. The tremors got worse. His behavior and mannerisms fluctuated between normal and weird. He started pill rolling with his left hand. The sleepwalking increased and the dreams became so bizarre. They were frightening. He rang me at work one day and he was incoherent. I went home and he was pacing around the house, talking gibberish and telling me there was water pouring down the walls. I had a cardigan on with tiny flowers, and he was convinced the flowers were floating up and away from the cardigan, and he kept trying to catch them eventually falling in a heap on the floor. I rang the GP and he was admitted to our local hospital for observations. An adverse reaction to the strong painkillers was diagnosed, but the diagnosis that followed a few months later was much. In the summer of 2017, he had spinal fusion and decompression surgery, and within a month I had my husband back. He was laughing, joking, being nice, and although he still had difficulty in sleeping, all the other symptoms had disappeared. Perhaps the doctors were right. I started to look forward to our lives returning to. About six weeks post-surgery. I suggested we went for a walk. He stood up from the chair and overnight he'd become badly stooped and appeared to have difficulty walking. His feet seemed to freeze on the spot. When he did walk, he shuffled and would lose control of his legs, so looked like he was running. I rang the neurologist to see if the appointment could be brought forward, but to no avail. In December, we saw the neurologist. I remember it was late on a Friday afternoon. on examination, the neurologist diagnosed Parkinson's disease. In that moment, my whole world blew apart. I looked at my husband and he was shell shocked with tears running down his face. He gripped my hand and at that point I knew I had to be strong for both of us. He'd been given a life-changing diagnosis. Our lives are about to change, and I was to start down the road of transitioning from wife to carer. Neurologist discharged us into the care of the specialist nurse with a review in three months, and that was it. Our lives had been torn apart and we had no support. We stood in the carpark of the hospital and cried that weekend, was quite frankly hell on earth. He didn't understand what he'd done to deserve the diagnosis. He immediately withdrew to himself, refusing to talk to anyone, crying and threatening to kill himself because he saw no future. Over the next few weeks, his behavior became much more bizarre. He kept me awake at night with hallucinations and thinking I was an imposter and had hidden his wife from him. I later learned this was known as Capgras Syndrome. I rang the nurse in desperation to see if the medication needed to be amended. She came out to see us the next day on conducting more physical and mental tests. She determined that there was a probable diagnosis of Lewy body dementia with Parkinson's. I'd never heard of it. I turned to Google and what I read horrified me sufferers of Lewy body dementia usually have between two and five years. They experienced fluctuations in mood, cognizance and lucidity, hallucinations, falls, sleepwalking, restless legs, r e m, dream disorder, along with depression. Were all listed. Suddenly everything made sense. The symptoms had started to manifest back in 2013, but had not been picked up. This is the same disease that the actor Robin Williams had, and a definitive diagnosis can only be made postmortem on the brain. It is also one of the most common forms of dementia in the uk, but the one that no one has heard of. Just before Christmas, he threatened to kill me and I had to call the police. Whilst I waited for the police, I locked myself in the garage as a place of safety because I was frightened. The call handler stayed on the phone to reassure me that there was a car on the way to me. I told her I was in the garage and they would have to knock on the door to let me know they were at the property. I remember looking around the garage for a potential weapon to defend myself. It would've been no good using self-defense moves as he had taught me, and I thought he'd be expecting me to use them if he managed to work out where I was. It was the early hours of the morning, and when I opened the front door, I apologized for calling the police out. I then apologize for wearing mismatching pajamas, but I wasn't expecting visitors. I said, looking back, it was probably my brain's way of dealing with what I was going. They raised concerns about my safety, but when they spoke to him, Lewy was on his best behavior. He was lucid and was worried about me as he didn't understand why I had called the police. I went upstairs to see him and all I saw was a once fit, healthy, proud man sat on the edge of the bed, completely broken and crying on the shoulder of one of his colleagues. It broke my. Christmas came and went. I often found my husband asleep during the day, which gave me some respite from the symptoms, but the nights were horrific for both of us. Nights were spent with him screaming from the hallucinations sleepwalking around the house. I found him rummaging in the kitchen for a knife as the house had a film crew in it, he said, and he needed to kill them. I started to step sleep back in the back bedroom. As the window was a fire escape window, which opened onto a flat roof, and if he had come to find me during the night, I could escape knowing that he wouldn't be able to climb onto the windowsill even though it was at knee height. I was frightened for my life most nights and survived on four hours sleep a night. I couldn't leave him because he was my husband and I loved him. I couldn't put him into a care home because he would've been so happy. during the day when he was lucid, there were glimpses of my old husband, and if people had met him, they wouldn't have known there was anything wrong with him until he got up to move. in January. He became pensive and secretive always on his iPad. He said he was researching the disease while he Slept. I checked his search history and to my horror found. He'd been Googling how to commit suicide with tablets where he could buy barbiturates and assisted suicide. Then a letter dropped on the doormat from Switzerland. He had applied to Digita Clinic for an assisted suicide. Nothing had prepared me. I just about started to understand what we were facing, and suddenly I faced the possibility that my husband could be dead within months rather than years. I asked him why. He said he had no choice. He didn't want to suffer the indignity of the disease. He was a solutions man. He had a problem and he identified the solution. He also said he had to do it for me as I had a life to live for a second time. Within weeks, my world explode. I felt sick. There was a permanent knot in my stomach and fear. Fear of the unknown, but also fear that I understood what he wanted to do was illegal and could result in him or both of us being reported to the authorities. Every time I left the house, I always rang him. Before I got in the car. I wanted to check he was alive still and I wasn't gonna get home and find that he had committed suicide. What followed was months of him completing paperwork and providing evidence to the clinic at every medical appointment. He was very vocal about his decision and insisted it was noted in his records. He completed an advanced directive to refuse all treatment if he were taken ill and a do not resuscitate order on his medical notes at his. Whilst the GP couldn't support his decision to travel abroad, they did support him with the D N A R and advanced directive. In April, he received an email from Digitas advising him that a doctor had agreed to help him. I remember the day well as it was my birthday. As soon as he received the news, he almost became cheerful. Someone had listened to him and agreed to help him. For want to a better description. He could see light at the end of the tunnel. The next few weeks passed in a blur of finding more paperwork for him to send and away to date. At the beginning of June, he was given a choice of dates along with final instructions. He had to have two further assessments by the doctor in Switzerland before they would proceed. We were given a list of hotels within the doctor's area and told to let them know where we were staying, and that was it. The application process was complete and I knew the date and time when my husband would die. It suddenly became very real and frightening for him. A sense of calm and acceptance came over him, and he quietly went about making sure I knew passwords, knew what to do with the bank accounts and investments, and what provisions he put in place for me. I flew to Switzerland with him and right up until the wheels left the ground, I was convinced we were gonna be stopped. We had only told the medical professionals involved in his care. My mom and one of our oldest friends. Switzerland passed in a blur. It was bizarre that we were in a lovely hotel overlooking Lake Zurich and glorious sunshine, and yet within 72 hours, my husband would be dead. I asked him what he wanted to do. He wanted to go on a boat on the lake, have lunch with a beer, followed by ice cream before going back to the hotel, and that is what we did. He passed the two assessments, and on Thursday morning the hotel arranged a taxi to take us to an address on an industrial state on the outskirts of Zurich. We were met by two volunteers. The room had a hospital bed, a reclining chair, and a large U-shaped leather sofa. There was a log burner in the corner, calming pictures on the walls and outside was a garden area with a water fountain and wind chimes. At 11 o'clock, the volunteers asked if he was ready to take the anti sickness medication, which. At 1130, they asked him if he was ready. His words were ready as I will ever be. He had to drink the barbiturate himself, and I was not allowed to touch him whilst he drank it or touched the glass he drank out of. He drank it and I passed him a piece of chocolate to take away the bit of taste. He held my hands, looked into my eyes, and told me he loved. His eyes closed, and at 1150 he died peacefully holding my hand. He was 64 years old and had died on his terms and not on Lewy body dementia's terms. I felt a huge wave of relief wash over me. He was no longer suffering. I was no longer suffering whilst caring for him. He fell and broke two of my toes. I was black and blue from him lashing out, and it drove me to the brink of a physical and mental breakdown. But I did it because I loved him and it wasn't him. It was the disease. The man I accompanied to Switzerland was not my husband as he had died a long time before I flew home that night, and all the way back there was a star visible at the side of the plane. I convinced myself he was looking out for me as I hate flying, and then it hit me that I had left him in Switzerland and he was on his own with no one to care for him I spent the flight home sobbing silently. He was cremated in Switzerland and his ashes were returned to me. Two weeks later, we held a memorial service for him and he had written his own eulogy. He was quite clear about his decision in his eulogy, and despite my thinking that someone would report us, all I received was an outpouring of love and people telling me how brave I was. I wasn't the brave one he was. To this day, I cannot comprehend what must have been going through his mind in those last few. I'm proud of him for doing what he did. I am proud to have called him my husband.

Following today's very powerful episode, we anticipate that you may have some questions. We've invited a representative from the charity, dignity and dying to join us on Friday, and she's going to be answering any that you may have. So please do send them to us via the usual channels. But for now, be very kind to yourselves and we'll see you soon.