Rules for Reporting a Planned Death: No Photos, No Pad, No Pen
I ended up shadowing three: Mr. Shields and two women, one in Toronto and one in Victoria.
He agreed to let us follow his story, but cautioned that he’d live through spring — summer even — so he doubted he’d make a good subject for us.
In May, I wrote this behind-the-scenes story about how I came to be in Mr. Shields’ hospice room that morning.
But how would I find people who were sick enough to qualify for a medical death
and would be willing to let a journalist poke around in what remained of their lives?
I held hands with one of Mr. Shields’ best friends.
I flew back to Victoria when Mr. Shields was admitted to hospice and spent two days interviewing him in ten-minute bursts, between his two-hour naps.
