Linda Jarrett had "just been stymied by the Sudoku" in her local newspaper and was looking out the window of her Kitchener home on Thursday afternoon when a bright red cardinal flew into view.

It was the day Bill C-14 on physician-assisted dying was introduced in the House of Commons and the 68-year-old retired teacher had a lot to think about.

These days, Jarrett revels more than ever in life's small pleasures, like a cardinal's vivid colour and the unexpected delight of birdsong, and in its great joys, such as playing with her four granddaughters.

But of necessity, she reflects a lot as well about death.

Jarrett has multiple sclerosis. In recent years, it has progressed rapidly. Since 2010, she's been active with Dying With Dignity Canada. She, like others in her similar circumstances, was let down by the Liberal government's bill on physician-assisted death.

"I am horribly disappointed at the narrowness of the proposed legislation," she said.

There were tighter-than-expected restrictions on "who would be able to access physician-assisted dying," she said. "And I'm certainly disappointed that they are not allowing an advance-care directive (as had been recommended by a parliamentary committee)."

In February 2015, the Supreme Court unanimously struck down the Criminal Code ban on assisted dying and instructed the government to come up with a new law.

Bill C-14 said adults 18 and older with grievous and irremediable medical conditions whose "natural death has become reasonably foreseeable" will be eligible to end their lives.

To Jarrett and others, this was a meaninglessly vague phrase.

"All of us are facing death," she said. Her disease "in itself is not terminal," she explained. "It's likely to be pneumonia that kills me, not MS."

Jarrett speaks matter-of-factly about what is likely the most difficult of human considerations — the manner and timing of her own death.

She was diagnosed with MS 18 years ago when she was 50. At the time, there was still "all sorts of hope," she said.

Perhaps she would have a comparatively benign form "that wouldn't cause me any discomfort or catastrophic impact on my life."

But "my particular form of MS quickly moved into secondary progressive," she said. "I'm afraid that at my age and with the progression of my MS, there really is not a lot of hope that something earth-shattering is going to come down in the next 10 years.

Looking down that decade, Jarrett can envisage "an unacceptable quality of life for myself."

There's nothing self-pitying in her tone. In fact, she frequently expresses gratitude.

She grew up in Toronto, taught in Windsor and Toronto, before meeting her future husband and moving to Kitchener where he was articling in law. Even after her diagnosis, she continued to teach part time "and loved it."

"I was so grateful to have not known I had MS until I was 50," she said. "I was truly blessed in that I had had a wonderful career as a French teacher for over 30 years. I have a marriage that has lasted. I was very actively involved in the raising of our two children.

"I really did not go that downhill for a couple of years. So I didn't miss out on anything career-wise or family-wise."

In 2010, before there was much talk in Canada about physician-assisted suicide, she heard a radio program about a man with Huntington's disease who wished to hasten his own death.

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"It made me really start to think that this is something I would be in favour of rather than living a life that I did find unacceptable," she said.

She began attending Dying With Dignity Canada workshops "trying to find out more about the idea of a gentle death" and "I was really starting to be an advocate for hastening my own death."

The progression of her disease "has been significant in the last number of years," she said.

Over the same period, her grandchildren began to be born.

"So I've been riding this sort of bucking bronco of decision-making about my life and my death at the same time trying to live it as fully as I can."

For now, her life is relatively independent. Jarrett still has mobility. She gets around on a scooter. Her house is outfitted with stair-glides. She can drive her wheelchair-accessible van with hand controls.

"My grandchildren only know me as someone who has a scooter, as someone who has stair-glides that are sort of fun to ride on. They've only known me as a disabled grandmother.

"I've been able to accept that role when they're small that they have fun beeping the horn on my scooter or they're small enough to ride with me down to our local shopping area.

"That is fine for now. It is not going to be acceptable to me for them to visit me in a long-term care facility when I'm no longer able to function independently."

Jarrett appraises her future with practical and courageous eyes. She wishes the government had mustered more of the same qualities.

"I just really would have felt so much more relief in my own personal circumstances if they had allowed for advance directives to be permitted," she said.

That was when the cardinal came calling.

When she was a girl she used to go hiking with her late father, brother and sister and bird watch. So this little visitor filled her with happiness.

"I'm just so grateful that there's a cardinal that comes around our house."