DENVER – At the end of March 2014, then-California resident Brittany Maynard was told she had about six months to live.

Her journey with brain cancer had begun just two months prior, on New Year’s Day, when she learned of her terminal illness. At the time, she was given three to five years to live.

Maynard was quickly scheduled for surgery in January, when about 35 percent of the tumor was removed. But a follow-up examination in March revealed that the tumor was growing, filling in the space where it had been removed.

From here, Maynard’s story became famous. In a video that went viral, generating millions of views on social media, a 29-year-old Maynard revealed her plans to take medication to end her life.

She established residency in Oregon in April 2014, where end-of-life options have been legal since 1994. Maynard received the medication in May.

Six months later, on Nov. 1, 2014, she decided to use it. She had suffered through pain that could not be alleviated by morphine, an inability to sleep for days, nausea, vomiting and seizures so bad that she bit through her tongue. Still ahead of her was blindness and paralysis.

“Early on, Brittany simply said, ‘I will not die that way. Why should I have to? I want my passing to be gentle,’” explained Dan Diaz, Maynard’s husband of two years before she died.

Diaz – a 44-year-old with a Catholic background – walked the halls of the Colorado Capitol last week, his wedding ring now worn on his right hand so that Maynard’s memory remains with him. He met with lawmakers, hoping to convince them to support end-of-life options legislation, which is expected in committee on Wednesday and Thursday at the Capitol.

Similar legislation failed last year when, after an emotional 11-hour hearing, lawmakers rejected the proposal, crossing party lines in support and opposition.

Lawmakers are back again with two separate proposals this year, one in the House and one in the Senate. The thought is that by working both chambers, more lawmakers will have a chance to vote on the proposals.

The bills would require that a life-ending drug be self-administered and that patients competently communicate health care decisions to two separate physicians.

In addition to Oregon, four states allow the practice, including California, which enacted legislation last year after hearing Maynard’s story.

Polling taken last month by Boulder-based Talmey-Drake Research and Strategy Inc. highlighted that 65 percent of Coloradans support the legislation. If measures fail in the Legislature, it’s likely that proponents will take the issue to a statewide ballot.

Opponents call the program “assisted suicide,” to the ire of proponents. They point to religious concerns and possible unintended consequences.

Critics raise fears that the legislation would lead to elder abuse, in which a patient’s heir might push for end-of-life options for financial gain. They also suggest that doctors might misdiagnose how long a person has to live.

“The bills are described as ‘aid in dying,’ but their reach is not limited to dying people. Eligible persons may have years, even decades, to live,” said Margaret Dore, president of the national organization, Choice is an Illusion, which has led opposition efforts in Colorado. “People with years, even decades to live, will be encouraged to throw away their lives.”

But Diaz said that couldn’t be further from the truth, underscoring that his wife simply wanted to take control of the tumor. He said her life-ending medication sat in a cupboard as Maynard continued to fight. Her drive was to live through their anniversary and her husband’s birthday.

“We have this thing innate in all of us, that desire to live,” Diaz said. “That’s what she had, that desire to live as long as she could.”

Eventually, however, the time came for Maynard. Upon taking the medication, she fell asleep within five minutes. Thirty minutes later, her breathing slowed to the point where she “peacefully” died, said Diaz.

“It’s hard at times, there’s a lot of emotion on my side,” he said of lobbying for the legislation. “But there is also a certain amount of therapy in it for me. I’m honoring my wife. I’m keeping my promise to her, and, in a sense, safeguarding her legacy.”

pmarcus@durangoherald.com