As Mark Fleischman drank the sodium pentothal that would kill him on Wednesday, he stared at Mimi, his wife of 27.
“We looked at each other like, ‘This is crazy in a way.’ My feeling was, ‘Wow. I can’t believe this is happening,'” she told The Post. “I had one hand on Mark’s knee. The sodium pentothal is bitter. So they advised to follow it with chocolate and a sweet drink. He ate it and drank it. A minute later, he looked around and said, “I don’t feel anything.” I think it was a return to his drug use. Three or four minutes later he was asleep.”
As The Post reported last month, 82-year-old Fleischman – the former owner of Studio 54 – decided to end his life by assisted suicide at Dignitas’ Swiss headquarters. Located near Zurich, in what appears to be a ranch-style home, the nonprofit legally dispenses blood-curdling drugs to people suffering from terminal or serious illnesses.
Fleischman, who paid $15,000 to die, was wheelchair-bound and suffered from a debilitating illness that could not be diagnosed or treated.
“There was always the possibility that he might change his mind; but in reality it was the opposite,” said Mimi. “But by the time we got on the plane to Zurich, he was adamant. He made up his mind and this was what he wanted to do, even when friends read about Mark and asked him not to. But Mark wanted to die on his own terms.”
As July 13, the day of his death, approached, the hotelier, restaurateur, and nightclub owner reconsidered his beliefs about his eternal future.
“Mark used to not believe in God at all. He was a complete atheist,” Mimi said. “He started to believe in God in recent weeks. I believe in God… Mark came to believe that there is life after death. He made a change in his belief system about the continuation of existence.
“I asked if he would come visit me. An old friend believes that Mark has already come to visit him. Mark and I talked about the fact that I would continue to see and feel him in my life.”
On Sunday, Mark and Mimi had boarded a Swiss Air flight and, like any other couple, had settled in business class on a holiday trip to Switzerland.
“We had a little fun,” she said. “We enjoyed eating and drinking and we watched movies. I think Mark watched one with Johnny Depp.
“It didn’t feel like we were going to the end of the world, which we literally were.”
The day after arrival, after an overnight stay near the airport, they checked into a suite at the luxurious Romantik Seehotel Sonne, with large windows overlooking Lake Zurich. There were thoughts of exploring the town, but Mark’s health and difficulty maneuvering in a wheelchair kept the Fleischmans on the hotel grounds.
“Mark loved feeding the ducks,” Mimi said. “We got bread from dinner – we ate bass, steak tartare, cucumber soup, great desserts with ice cream – and he would feed them. It was bittersweet. Mark and I had so much fun in our lives. We had fun in Zurich, but it was also difficult.”
Monday night a doctor from Dignitas came to their suite.
“He wanted to make sure Mark could swallow,” Mimi said. “In addition, he seemed concerned that this was Mark’s choice and that he was not being influenced. The doctor wanted to know who makes decisions, who is in charge of our relationship. Mark said, “Mimi sorts everything out.” I replied, ‘Under your guidance. You tell me what to do and I do it.’”
In fact, it was Mimi who found Dignitas for him after Mark told her he was determined to take his destiny into his own hands. “I came up with this idea,” she said, “as an alternative to him committing suicide at home.”
Fleischman, who lived in Marina Del Ray, told The Post in June that the idea had been seeping through for at least two years.
“I can’t walk, my speech is disturbed and I can’t do anything for myself,” he said. “My wife helps me get into bed and I can’t get dressed or put on my shoes. I’m taking a soft way out. It’s the easiest way out for me.
“I slowly came to the decision,” he added. “Two years ago I decided it wasn’t worth living. I took a lot of Xanax and ended up in the hospital.”
First aid doctors brought him back from the brink of death, but soon after I read a book about ending life. I read there that the easiest way is to choke. But I didn’t want the pain. I went to buy a gun. But my wife intervened. We went looking for a place where it would be legal to find someone to do it with.”
On the morning of July 13, Mark ate a hearty breakfast of croissants, soft-boiled eggs, bacon and ham, and leaned on the suite couch. Although Mark had previously told Mimi that he thought a lot about his days as a student at Cornell University’s hotel school – “Those were good times,” Mimi said, “when Mark was young and had his whole life ahead of him” – he was usually quiet.
“There weren’t many conversations,” said Mimi, who could only sleep for 15 minutes the night before, finally falling asleep at 6am and being woken up by Mark at 6:15am.
“I said, ‘I can’t even imagine how you feel.’ I would have liked to say: ‘How do you feel and what is going through your mind?’ But I gave him that signal. He didn’t seem to want to talk about it. And I didn’t want to push him. We said some nice things to each other. We said how much we love each other. He said he was grateful that he was being looked after so well. That gave me a good feeling.”
At around 9am, Mark and Mimi taxied to the Dignitas facility, about an hour outside of Zurich. Mark was wearing Ray-Bans and a hat that indicated he was a veteran of the Navy.
“They offered us drinks and there were chocolates,” Mimi recalls. “Mark had a few pieces and an espresso. There was a lack of fear. He was ready.”
By 10:30 a.m., he had signed some final documents and handed over a copy of his birth certificate. A nurse asked if he was willing to drink a formula that would coat his stomach for the sodium pentothal, which would paralyze his muscles and cause cardiac arrest.
“Yes,” he said, choosing to remain in his wheelchair. “I’m ready to drink this.”
“After that, there’s a 30-minute wait until you drink the sodium pentothal,” Mimi said. “He could have laid down, but sitting at the table seemed fine to me. We were left alone and talked about the fact that I would continue to see and feel Mark in my life. I remember there was a clock on the table. It was 10 :55 Mark told me to go get the nurse He was ready I told him it’s not even half an hour But I went to get her.
“They asked Mark if he was ready and he said, ‘Yes,'” Mimi continued. “Then they gave him the drink.”
A moment later he was asleep, then he left this life and went on with what he had come to believe is next. Mimi stayed by his side.
“I stayed another hour to be with him,” she said. “I had all mixed feelings. He was lucky that he could do it and that I could support him. I touched Marc. I realized I won’t touch him again. These were the final touches.”
Mimi eventually left for a hotel near the airport, expecting to fly home the following day. By noon, however, she began to feel ill. Wednesday night, she tested positive for COVID and is still camping at the hotel, recovering, with the expectation of flying home to Los Angeles when she is healthier.
Her husband’s body will be cremated in Switzerland and sent to her in California.
Thinking back to her last moments with Mark, she said: “I didn’t cry. I was overwhelmed and relieved that he is free.”