Two days before her Christian grandmother was scheduled to undergo an assisted-death procedure in Ontario, Canada, Brigitte Kranendonk sat with her to ensure she understood what was about to take place.
“I used very direct language,” she said. “I asked her: ‘Do you understand that you’re going to die on Friday?’”
The 83-year-old appeared stunned and cried for roughly 45 minutes. Brigitte Stegemann, known to relatives as “GG” or “Oma”, repeatedly said: “I’ve made a mistake.”
“She was sobbing. She was completely inconsolable,” Kranendonk, a real estate agent who shares her first name with her late grandmother, told Our News Outlet.
According to Kranendonk, Stegemann also failed every question in a cognitive assessment intended to determine whether she had the mental capacity to consent to Medical Assistance in Dying, or MAiD. She allegedly believed that both of her surviving siblings had already died.
Kranendonk says that just 48 hours after Stegemann broke down at the prospect of MAiD, she died with her hands folded in prayer. She alleges the procedure began with a failed IV insertion that left Stegemann’s arm, clothing, pillow and bedding covered in blood, and claims the nurse was not wearing gloves.
Kranendonk is now seeking answers from Ontario’s Chief Coroner’s Office, the Patient Ombudsman and Belleville Police. She wants to know whether the events surrounding Stegemann’s death on the morning of July 10 at The Pearl care home in Cannifton were lawful.
Grieving and distressed, she alleges that the MAiD providers exploited her grandmother’s vulnerability and carried out the procedure without her clear, express consent.
Brigitte Kranendonk with her grandmother Brigitte Stegemann, known affectionately to her family as ‘GG’ or ‘Oma’
“She was a vulnerable human being, and they saw an opportunity,” Kranendonk said, visibly overwhelmed by anger and grief.
She believes the practitioners may have been driven by an inappropriate ideology and says the circumstances leading up to the assisted-death procedure require a full investigation.
The practitioners and care home have not commented publicly. They are understood to maintain that Stegemann gave legally valid consent to proceed.
“No one had ever carried out MAiD at this residential home before. This was their first procedure,” Kranendonk said. “I don’t know whether they simply failed because they lacked experience.”
Stegemann’s death was reportedly far removed from the peaceful passing she had once hoped for.
As she describes the minutes that followed, Kranendonk remains visibly traumatised, recounting the episode in the present tense as though it is unfolding again in front of her.
“There was an incredible amount of blood,” she said. Kranendonk alleges the nurse could not locate a suitable vein in Stegemann’s right arm and then moved to the left after inserting the needle “about three or four times.”
“It was all over my Oma’s arm and nightie, soaking into her pillow and spreading across the sheets. There was so much blood.”
“And during all of this, the nurse wasn’t wearing gloves.”
Kranendonk says another troubling incident occurred in February, when she had to persuade her grandmother to accept a medical port—a small device implanted beneath the skin to provide direct access to a vein for medication.
After the port was inserted, the 83-year-old repeatedly pulled it out while shouting: “I don’t want the death shot!”
Prior to Stegemann’s death that summer, Kranendonk had been her caregiver for 12 years, and her medical power of attorney for the past six.
A year and a half before her death, the family made the decision to house Stegemann in The Pearl as her physical and cognitive health began to deteriorate.
In February, she was diagnosed with stage 4 stomach cancer. But doctors were not certain about whether the diagnosis meant she had six months to live, or as much time as two years.
For the past decade, Kranendonk had been carefully monitoring what her grandmother ate to keep her healthy, including limiting her sugar intake.
Following the cancer diagnosis, she changed tack and allowed her to eat whatever she craved, deciding she just wanted her grandmother to feel as ‘joyful’ as possible in her final stage of life.
She spoke to Stegemann about all options, and even brought up MAiD, explaining what the procedure would entail. She remembers her grandmother saying clearly: ‘No, I don’t want that.’
Kranendonk says her religiosity, and the notion of displeasing God, was a large factor in why her German-born grandmother instinctively opposed assisted dying.
Then came June, when Kranendonk and her husband went on a 10-day road trip.
In the past, every time she was away, she received frequent phone calls from the residential home regarding her grandmother’s health.
Everything seemed normal. She picked up numerous phone calls, and the doctors didn’t discuss a dramatic decline in Stegemann’s health – only that she had fallen over and would need a wheelchair.
But towards the end of the trip, on July 3, Kranendonk received a different kind of call. It was from the home, saying they were going to book a MAiD assessment for her grandmother.
Her health had apparently seriously deteriorated.
The news hit like a ton of bricks.
Back in Cannifton, Kranendonk anxiously questioned a nurse at the residential home about who had initiated the MAiD conversation.
‘The nurse became very abrasive, very defensive,’ Kranendonk recalls. ‘She was like, “Well, I’m just trying to advocate for her. I’m just trying to do what’s right for her.”‘
Prior to Stegemann’s death that summer, Kranendonk had been her caregiver for the preceding 12 years and her medical power of attorney for the past six
Soon after Kranendonk returned from her trip away, she discovered her grandmother had actually already had her first MAiD consultation.
‘No one called me,’ she says, explaining how she feels she was isolated from the whole process from the beginning.
While her grandmother was certainly sick, Kranendonk found it difficult to believe that she had rapidly declined in health during her trip away, and privately questioned whether what the nurses told her was true.
‘I noticed that she had lost weight when I saw her after returning, but she had slowly been losing weight for a while.
‘Regarding her rapid decline, I am not a doctor, but when I came back she was still eating, walking to the bathroom, very talkative and full of jokes.
‘She never complained about pain in front of me, except when her stomach was being relentlessly pressed.’
Kranendonk maintains that Stegemann did not at any point make a formal MAiD application herself.
But every time she tried to question whether MAiD was the right pathway for her grandmother, she feels she was made to feel crazy or burdensome by the medical professionals at the home.
‘I truly believe that one nurse really saw us as an obstacle,’ she says. ‘We were getting in the way of her doing MAiD on my grandmother. I think she really, truly believes that MAiD is the best for people, and shame on me for trying to stop that.’
Kranendonk made sure she was in the room for the second MAiD assessment, and it was there where she noticed the doctor speak in ‘really loose terms, never using the words death or dying’.
‘She explains MAiD to my grandmother by saying: “We’re going to give you medicine, you’re going to feel at peace. And I just want you to know that you won’t have a bowel movement.”’
‘She’s saying it in these strange terms, that aren’t literal,’ Kranendonk says, adding: ‘My Oma’s just kind of nodding. Her first language is not English, she is 83-years old and severely hearing-impaired.’
Kranendonk looked at the doctor, and said: ‘She doesn’t understand what you’re saying.’
That’s when the doctor allegedly turned to the grandmother, and offered: ‘We’re going to make sure you won’t have any more pain.’
During the cognitive assessment, which she also sat in on, Kranendonk claims that the questions were curiously designed, in that the doctor couldn’t immediately verify the answers.
As opposed to questions such as who the prime minister was, or that day’s date, the grandmother was asked personal questions, like how many siblings she had.
‘But none of that is in her records. They would not know if the information was correct, or not,’ Kranendonk says.
Even so, Stegemann got the answers wrong.
She said she had no siblings, despite having 13.
The doctor asked how many were still alive, and Stegemann answered, saying none.
But two are still alive, and the grandmother had seen one only a month and a half before.
‘So we’re going through this assessment. None of the answers could be proven, unless I was there.
‘There was nothing concrete. They’re supposed to be doing a cognitive assessment, and yet they picked questions that they can’t verify,’ Kranendonk says.
According to government guidelines, a patient must be sound of mind and have a ‘grievous and irremediable medical condition’ to be eligible for MAiD in Canada.
Eventually, much to her discomfort, Kranendonk was asked to leave the room by the doctor, who continued the test.
Waiting outside anxiously, Kranendonk was sure her grandmother would fail.
But four minutes after the cognitive test was complete, the doctor announced that Stegemann was ‘deemed fit for MAiD, and we’re going to proceed’.
Later on the same day, Stegemann confused the names of her daughter and her granddaughter.
In February, Stegemann was diagnosed with stage 4 stomach cancer
‘I was astonished that she was given the okay,’ Kranendonk says, following the assessment on Tuesday, July 7.
The doctor assured her that her grandmother would still be able to ‘deny’ MAiD on the day of the procedure, which was scheduled for Friday at 11am.
Then began an impossible balance. Kranendonk was determined to try and ascertain whether Stegemann had actually consented to MAiD – but she didn’t want to cause undue stress for the 83-year-old.
Most of all, she just wanted to enjoy whatever time she had left with her beloved Oma, who she grew up living with as a child.
Every summer and long weekend throughout her upbringing was spent with her grandparents – and the thought of losing Stegemann was heartbreaking.
‘Like, I’m already on limited time with her. So there’s this balance, of wanting to get her to understand, and also still wanting to protect her – to not make her upset.’
On Wednesday, Kranendonk woke up after barely sleeping and prepared to visit her grandmother.
But before she had a chance to enter the home, she got a call from the nurse, who said they planned to fast-track her grandmother’s death to Thursday – simply because the doctor had an early opening.
‘I was like: “I’m not talking about this right now, I’m on my way to visit my Oma.”‘
The nurse replied: ‘Oh, well, I already spoke to your Oma, and she agreed.’
But Thursday wouldn’t have allowed enough time for Stegemann’s pastor to arrive, or her son – depriving her of her dying wishes to be surrounded by her loved ones and prayer.
Kranendonk said Thursday wasn’t an option, so Friday was kept as the death date.
She felt cornered. She was trying to protect her grandmother, but says the nurses were making her feel like an obstacle, standing in everyone’s way.
The stress became overwhelming, and she felt like she had no control.
That day, she says she marched up to residential home’s manager, to complain about how everything had been handled – how the process felt sped up, and lacked transparency.
She demanded to see the MAiD paperwork, and to find out who was filling it in.
The manager said everything had already been filled out the day prior, and her grandmother had signed it.
To this day, Kranendonk has not seen the paperwork allegedly signed by her grandmother, agreeing to the procedure – all of which was completed without any family members present.
‘I don’t know who the witness was. I don’t know how they explained the paperwork to her. I don’t know what they said to her. I have no idea,’ Kranendonk says, now horrified by what she views as lapses in proper MAiD procedure.
‘I’m sorry. How can we make this better for you?’ the manager asked Kranendonk.
In a fit of rage and disbelief, she replied: ‘You guys have taken this whole MAiD thing and have just rammed it down our throats.’
Following the altercation with the manager, Kranendonk confronted her grandmother and explained what would be happening on Friday in vivid terms.
The conversation caused her to breakdown in tears and admit that she had made a mistake. ‘I just kept saying there’s no mistake, there’s no mistake. You don’t have to do this.
‘The doctors are coming on Friday, and you just say no,’ Kranendonk recalls pleading.
But it got to a point where Kranendonk didn’t want to ‘keep fighting MAiD, and lose sight of who I’m fighting for’.
Her grandmother was unwell, and confused, so she made the decision to just try and experience all the precious quality time she could have with Stegemann – while she still had a chance.
And crucially, she trusted the nurses to not take advantage of the ailing woman.
‘My Oma wasn’t the only vulnerable one in that situation – I was. I was vulnerable in the loss and love of my grandmother, being her care provider, and I was vulnerable in trusting that they were making the right decisions.
‘It all felt so sped up and in slow motion at the same time,’ Kranendonk says.
On Thursday, the pair danced together to traditional German Polka music and ate ice-cream in her room.
‘We had the best day,’ Kranendonk recalls, tearfully. ‘I felt great leaving on Thursday.’
But she went home utterly confused. On the one hand, she was elated she had such a fantastic day with her grandmother.
But on the other hand, she couldn’t bear the possibility of what might happen the next day.
‘I was so split. Part of me was like, maybe it’s not going to happen. And then there was this underlying feeling of, oh God, what if it does?’
Since her grandmother’s death, many people have asked Kranendonk why she didn’t try harder to stop the lethal injection from taking place.
In hindsight, she felt like she was in an unworkable situation. She at once wanted the best for her grandmother and wanted to respect her autonomy, but was terribly concerned that she had never once heard her say, out loudand clearly: ‘I want MAiD.’
‘All I saw was her not understanding the process,’ Kranendonk recalls.
On the day before Stegemann’s assisted death, she danced with her granddaughter to traditional German Polka music and the pair ate ice-cream
When Friday, July 10 arrived, everything felt rushed again. The family took Stegemann out into the residential home’s garden to share strawberry ice-cream – her favourite – and the pastor arrived, who started a round of prayers.
‘She’s very confused at this point,’ Kranendonk remembers.
At 9.30am – after 10 minutes of being outside – the MAiD nurse asked for the family to return indoors, despite the fact that they were told the doctor would not arrive until 11am.
The nurse said that she needed time to get the IV started, and Kranendonk remembers telling her forcefully that they were not finished having time together as a family.
‘Well, how long do you need?’ she claims the nurse said, rather dismissively, in response.
Once back inside the home, the nurse started the IV, Kranendonk alleges. According to Kranendonk, the doctor hadn’t even arrived, and her grandmother was not asked if she gave consent for the procedure to begin.
The nurse struggled to insert the IV into Stegemann’s right arm, and ended up piercing her repeatedly with the needle before attempting her left arm.
Kranendonk remembers in graphic detail the copious amount of blood, which made the whole procedure feel strangely unprofessional.
‘She’s asking us to hand her things, to flush out the needle. So we’re now a part of this. She’s asking us to grab things for her, and to hold things for her.
‘This nurse is not wearing gloves. There’s blood all over her hands, there’s blood all over the place,’ she says, horrified by the memory.
The doctor then entered the room and told Stegemann she was there to give her ‘medicine’, and asked if that was okay with her.
‘My Oma is not moving. She doesn’t open her eyes. She doesn’t nod. She doesn’t say anything, and the doctor just said: “Okay, well, I’m going to proceed.”‘
Within 10 minutes, Stegemann was pronounced dead. Due to how unresponsive she was, Kranendonk doesn’t know if her grandmother died shortly before the MAiD, because of the MAiD, or whether she was just in deep prayer.
She says that no heartbeat was taken, before or after the procedure.
‘What was concerning, though, is that that morning, I was crying. My grandmother looked at me and said, “If you don’t stop crying, I’m not going to sleep tonight.” She said that to me on Friday morning.’
It was only in the aftermath of Stegemann’s death that Kranendonk – overwhelmed with grief – began to believe that something went awfully wrong.
She has subsequently learnt that nurses are strictly prohibited from pressuring a patient to pursue MAiD, and that all the correct paperwork for MAiD to take place must be submitted before a death date can be determined.
Stegemann’s paperwork was completed after her death, her granddaughter claims.
‘She did not consent the morning of the procedure,’ Kranendonk says, steadfast in her conclusion that her grandmother was euthanised against her will.
She has consistently asked The Pearl to hand over her grandmother’s medical records, but all of her requests have been refused, she says.
She regrets not applying for a legal injunction to prevent the MAiD from occurring, but she also didn’t realise she had the right to ask for one at the time.
‘I was flying blind,’ she says. And crucially, her grandmother still needed medical attention in those final weeks.
‘We live in Canada, where medical care is not always easy to get. She still needed medical care. I could not just scoop her up and bring her home,’ she says.
She trusted the government, and the medical establishment, not to take advantage of her grandmother. In the months since July, that trust has completely shattered.
She says she has ‘settled a lot into prayer’, and is sharing her story as a way to give more education to care providers who may find themselves in similar scenarios.
A spokesman for Belleville Police told Our News Outlet: ‘This incident is currently open and under investigation with our Criminal Investigations Division. We are unable to provide any additional information at this time.’
Canada has one of the highest rates of euthanasia in the world, with MAiD accounting for 4.7 per cent of the deaths in 2023.
Our News Outlet contacted The Pearl for comment.
