No tears, no fear, no second guessing: Why Kay Henderson is ready to die in five days

Kay Henderson is committed to having a final swim in the ocean on Thursday, feeling the salt and cool water on her skin, then lying in her bed on Friday for last cuddles before closing her eyes for good. Read her incredible journey.

Sitting in her recliner in her favourite blue and white pyjamas, loyal puppy Gemma curled comfortably in her lap, Kay Henderson emanates a sense of calm. You’d never know she was going to leave this world in five days.

There’s no tears, no fear of the unknown, no second guessing. She’s ready to die. In fact she was ready several years ago.

“It’s like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders,” the 47-year-old Coffs Harbour woman told the Sunday Telegraph. “It’s my time, I have had enough.”

There’s no hint of hesitation in her voice. When asked if she’d maybe wait to celebrate her 48th birthday, which is less than three weeks away, she says “no way, not even tempted”.

“I’ve been in pain since I was 14. I’ve been in excruciating pain since 2019. My body’s slowly failing. It’s time for me to go.”

Kay Henderson at home in Coffs Harbour with Gemma. Kay has chosen to end her life on Friday though the Voluntary Assisted Dying program. Picture: Sam Ruttyn

Ms Henderson is committed to having a final swim in the ocean on Thursday, feeling the salt and cool water on her skin, then lying in her bed on Friday for last cuddles from her mum and her cat Byron before closing her eyes for good.

“That swim will be my last hoorah, it will take everything out of me,” she says. “Just to wash my hair I am so exhausted, sleeping for days. I have had enough now, enough of living a life that’s not really a life.”

Ms Henderson’s conviction is evident in her meticulous planning for those she’s leaving behind. All the little things you wouldn’t expect to consume the mind of someone on death’s door.

“I’ve bought about four months worth of kitty litter for my cat so that mum doesn’t have to, because it’s quite expensive,” she says matter of factly.

“I’ve bought Gemma about six months worth of dry food, just things like that, so she doesn’t have to worry about it.

“I’ve got three big fluffy Oodies that do nothing for your appearance, unless you are a size six you look like a bag of potatoes, but they are so comfy and I’m going to spray them with my favourite perfumes and I’m going to give one to my oldest niece and her two daughters so they can have them forever.”

Kay Henderson is ready to die in five days, fed up with the pain and immobility. Picture: Sam Ruttyn

Then there’s the bigger things.

“I’ve made sure I’ve got enough money in my account, because she will have to pay an extra fee from the funeral home, because they’ll be picking me up from here. If they get me from a hospital it doesn’t cost anything, but if they have to come out to your home, they charge you.

“The last thing I would want to do is die and leave stuff for mum to have to do,” Ms Henderson says.

Last but not least, planning her final day when closest friends and family will come share some sandwiches and “some laughs” before Ms Henderson settles into bed and waits for the drugs to fill her veins — “one to calm me, the next an anaesthetic and then the final drug to shut down my organs”.

“The whole process from start to finish is normally 15 to 20 minutes. So I’ll get comfortable in bed. I’m hoping that my little baby boy will come and give me cuddles before I go,” she said.

“I’ve got about 10 to 15 people coming. Not all of them want to be in the room. I’m just going to say, whoever wants to be in the room, be in the room. The others can either sit out here in the loungeroom, make a coffee, go and have a ciggie. I don’t care, but whoever wants to be in the room is welcome to be in there.”

Kay Henderson with her mum Coralee Wells who says she will miss the big hugs when her daughter dies. Picture: Sam Ruttyn

Ms Henderson’s mum listened as the surreal conversation played out, a relaxed smile on her face and a warmth in her eyes.

The chatter about the big day continues: “When I go I’ll definitely have Cold Chisel’s Flame Trees playing, it’s my favourite song ever,” Ms Henderson says.

“I’ve got a bit of a playlist … just so we can just sit around and listen and laugh, or just yeah, in the background while we talk.

“But we will also have some R&B in the mix, some stuff you can get down and shake your arse to. I’m going to go out shaking my arse.”

Sitting with Ms Henderson on a sunny Thursday afternoon - eight days before she will “join other kind souls” - it’s difficult to comprehend the reality that this engaging, funny woman is terminally ill.

She’s become adept at hiding her darkness and the depth of pain engulfing her body - the puffiness in her face and legs and the drips attached to her body are the only outward signs she’s slowly dying.

Kay Henderson shared with The Sunday Telegraph some photos of precious moments in her life, including her wedding day in 2005.

It’s been a long road.

Born with Marfan syndrome, a genetic disorder leading to problems with the development of connective tissue, which supports the bones, muscles, organs, and tissues Ms Henderson has experienced pain and health complications since her teen years.

It was 17 years ago that she took a major turn for the worse, suffering a major heart attack “that was like an implosion”.

“I tore one of my ventricles. They had to be repaired. They took something from my leg to replace it in my heart, and because the pressure was so bad, it dissected my aorta from my neck all the way down to my groin. So that’s how aneurisms have come to form because of the dissection.”

Ms Henderson has never been the same since, and in the last few months her agony has become debilitating. Doctors told her she had less than six months to live.

“I’m over it, my body is over it. It’s time to give us both a break. It’s very depressing. I have had some quite depressing times,” she said.

Kay Henderson when she was four years old.

Kay Henderson and friends in 2015.

When her doctor, who she described as an “honest great man who tells it like it is”, came to visit recently he was shocked by the obvious decline in her health and mobility.

“He said I will one thousand per cent support you if you want to contact Volunteer Assisted Dying and I was like ‘yes let’s do it, no hesitation’ and I called them the next day.”

She had already considered moving to Victoria to be eligible before laws were passed in NSW in November 2023.

She will join some 400 people in her home state who have gone through the process after meeting the criteria that includes having a medical condition that on the balance of probabilities, cause a person’s death within six months, or within 12 months for neurodegenerative diseases like motor neurone disease.

Ms Henderson recently started to share her journey on social media and the response was “mind-blowing”.

“I jumped from 164 followers to 24,000 in three days and it wiped me out responding to messages,” she said.

“I’m reading them all, and if I can get back to them I will. Some say stuff like ‘please stay’ and I’ve already explained why I can’t do that.”

Kay Henderson with her proud mum Coralee Wells who describes her terminally ill daughter as a pioneer. Picture: Sam Ruttyn

She is glad her story is sparking conversations about assisted dying and encourages people not to judge, but to educate themselves.

“People say I should write a book, well I don’t think I can write a book in one week, but I

am happy to let people who might be in a situation like me know that they have options. I don’t think there is enough education so I am really happy that I am able to help with that.”

When she first told her mum Coralee Wells she had been accepted into the VAD program she was “fully supportive, even excited”.

“I wanted her to do it when she was ready,” Ms Wells said.

“The way Kay is doing it, she’s chosen to do it. She has shared her plans with myself, her friends and we can prepare, we will have counselling once she passes.

“It’s not a sudden shock, the usual way it happens when everyone has to run around organising a funeral. This way people can plan to come and spend time with her.”

She won’t pretend she won’t miss her daughter dearly but finds comfort in the fact her spirit will remain.

“A couple of nights ago, it kind of hit me that there’ll be no more body, no more body to hug me,” Ms Wells said.

“But I believe she’s doing the right thing. Being a spiritualist I believe she will come visit me. I know she will.”

Kay Henderson and mum Coralee Wells getting in as many hugs as they can. Picture: Sam Ruttyn

Ms Wells has regrets like all mums, thinks of ways she could have done different as her daughter’s death looms, and says “no mum wants to bury their daughter, they want it to be the other way round”.

“But this is right for Kay and I am so very proud of her.

“There are times I felt like I have pushed her into medications, operations, she’s been through such a lot. But I feel blessed. I feel special that I’ve been able to travel this journey with Kay.

“I just feel so proud because she’s a pioneer and she’s leaving her mark on this earth that we live in and I know that when she does pass, I know I’ll feel her around me. I know that she will visit me, she will protect me, she will love me.”

Hear more with Kay on News.com.au’s podcast, From the Newsroom, next week.

Originally published as No tears, no fear, no second guessing: Why Kay Henderson is ready to die in five days