text: This July 24, 2016 photo provided by Niels Alpert, Betsy Davis, third from left, has a laugh with her friends during a going away party in Ojai, Calif. In early July, Davis emailed her closest friends... (Associated Press) 
   
   SAN DIEGO (AP) — In early July, Betsy Davis emailed her closest friends and relatives to invite them to a two-day party, telling them: "These circumstances are unlike any party you have attended before, requiring emotional stamina, centeredness and openness." 
   
   And just one rule: No crying in front of her. 
   
   The 41-year-old artist with ALS, or Lou Gehrig's disease, held the gathering to say goodbye before becoming one of the first Californians to take a lethal dose of drugs under the state's new doctor-assisted suicide law for the terminally ill. 
   
   "For me and everyone who was invited, it was very challenging to consider, but there was no question that we would be there for her," said Niels Alpert, a cinematographer from New York City. 
   
   "The idea to go and spend a beautiful weekend that culminates in their suicide — that is not a normal thing, not a normal, everyday occurrence. In the background of the lovely fun, smiles and laughter that we had that weekend was the knowledge of what was coming." 
   
   Davis worked out a detailed schedule for the gathering on the weekend of July 23-24, including the precise hour she planned to slip into a coma, and shared her plans with her guests in the invitation. 
   
   More than 30 people came to the party at a home with a wraparound porch in the picturesque Southern California mountain town of Ojai, flying in from New York, Chicago and across California. 
   
   One woman brought a cello. A man played a harmonica. There were cocktails, pizza from her favorite local joint, and a screening in her room of one of her favorite movies, "The Dance of Reality," based on the life of a Chilean film director. 
   
   As the weekend drew to a close, her friends kissed her goodbye, gathered for a photo and left, and Davis was wheeled out to a canopy bed on a hillside, where she took a combination of morphine, pentobarbital and chloral hydrate prescribed by her doctor. 
   
   Kelly Davis said she loved her sister's idea for the gathering, which Betsy Davis referred to as a "rebirth." 
   
   "Obviously it was hard for me. It's still hard for me," said Davis, who wrote about it for the online news outlet Voice of San Diego. "The worst was needing to leave the room every now and then, because I would get choked up. But people got it. They understood how much she was suffering and that she was fine with her decision. They respected that. They knew she wanted it to be a joyous occasion." 
   
   Davis ended her life a little over a month after a California law giving the option to the terminally ill went into effect. Four other states allow doctor-assisted suicide, with Oregon the first in 1997. 
   
   Opponents of the law in lobbying against it before state legislators argued that hastening death was morally wrong, that it puts terminally ill patients at risk for coerced death by loved ones and could become a way out for people who are uninsured or fearful of high medical bills. 
   
   Marilyn Golden of the Disability Rights Education & Defense Fund, said her heart goes out to anyone dealing with a terminal illness, but "there are still millions of people in California threatened by the danger of this law." 
   
   Davis spent months planning her exit, feeling empowered after spending the last three years losing control of her body bit by bit. The painter and performance artist could no longer stand, brush her teeth or scratch an itch. Her caretakers had to translate her slurred speech for others. 
   
   "Dear rebirth participants you're all very brave for sending me off on my journey," she wrote in her invitation. "There are no rules. Wear what you want, speak your mind, dance, hop, chant, sing, pray, but do not cry in front of me. OK, one rule." 
   
   During the party, old friends reconnected and Davis rolled in and out of the rooms in her electric wheelchair and onto the porch, talking with her guests. 
   
   At one point, she invited friends to her room to try on the clothes she had picked out for them. They modeled the outfits to laughter. Guests were also invited to take a "Betsy souvenir" — a painting, beauty product or other memento. Her sister had placed sticky notes on the items, explaining each one's significance. 
   
   Wearing a Japanese kimono she bought on a bucket-list trip she took after being diagnosed in 2013, she looked out at her last sunset and took the drugs at 6:45 p.m. with her caretaker, her doctor, her massage therapist and her sister by her side. Four hours later, she died. 
   
   Friends said it was the final performance for the artist, who once drew pictures on a stage with whipped cream. 
   
   "What Betsy did gave her the most beautiful death that any person could ever wish for," Alpert said. "By taking charge, she turned her departure into a work of art." 
   
   Her guests agreed to meet again on her birthday in June to scatter her ashes. ||||| Terminally Ill California Woman with ALS Throws One Last Party Before Ending Her Life 
   
   Niels Alpert via AP 
   
   Niels Alpert via AP 
   
   In early July, Betsy Davis sent out invitations to a party she referred to as a "rebirth.""These circumstances are unlike any party you have attended before, requiring emotional stamina, centeredness and openness," her e-mail invitations read, according to AP Davis, a 41-year-old artist from California, spent the last three years losing control of her body due to the debilitating illness of ALS or Lou Gehrig's disease, and had been planning one final gathering that concluded with ending her life with medication prescribed to her by her doctor, something that is perfectly legal under the state's new End-of-Life Option Act.A little over one month before Davis' party, a law was passed in California giving terminally ill patients the option to hasten death. It is only granted to individuals by state law in Oregon, Vermont and Washington, and by court decision in Montana."Dear rebirth participants you're all very brave for sending me off on my journey," she wrote in her invitation. "There are no rules. Wear what you want, speak your mind, dance, hop, chant, sing, pray, but do not cry in front of me. OK, one rule."Davis invited over 30 friends and family to join her at a beautiful home in Ojai on July 23-24. She had put together a fun-filled weekend with every hour detailed with activities for her loved ones who arrived from New York, Chicago and across California.Throughout the evening, Davis, seated in her electric wheelchair, interacted with each companion and was looking forward to a fashion show for which she had picked out clothes for each guest to model.Love and laughter filled the house as guests enjoyed cocktails, pizza from her favorite eatery as well as a screening in her room of one of her favorite movies, The Dance of Reality.As the final hours counted down, friends and family kissed her goodbye and gathered for a group photo. "The worst was needing to leave the room every now and then, because I would get choked up. But people got it," said Davis' sister Kelly, who wrote about her sister for local news outlet Voice of San Diego. "They understood how much she was suffering and that she was fine with her decision. They respected that. They knew she wanted it to be a joyous occasion."Davis was wheeled out to a canopy bed on a hillside, where she looked out at her last sunset. Dressed in a Japanese kimono she bought on a bucket-list trip she took after being diagnosed in 2013, she swallowed a combination of morphine, pentobarbital and chloral hydrate prescribed by her doctor at 6:45 p.m.Betsy died four hours later surrounded by Kelly, her caretaker, her doctor and her massage therapist.Guests called the gathering Betsy's final performance as friend and cinematographer Niels Alpert explained that "what Betsy did gave her the most beautiful death that any person could ever wish for.""By taking charge, she turned her departure into a work of art," he concluded.All those invited have promised to gather again next year for Betsy's birthday in June to scatter her ashes.
target: – Betsy Davis spent the last years of her life losing control of her body as her illness worsened—but she could still control how she died, and she "turned her departure into a work of art," friend and cinematographer Niels Alpert says of the California artist's death. The 41-year-old, who in 2013 was diagnosed with ALS, also known as Lou Gehrig's disease, threw a party for more than 30 friends and family that lasted through the weekend before her doctor-assisted suicide late last month, People reports. Davis, a painter and performance artist who invited guests from across the country to what she called a "rebirth," died under the state's physician-assisted suicide law, which took effect on June 9. "You're all very brave for sending me off on my journey," she wrote in her invitation, which warned guests that "emotional stamina" would be required, the AP reports. "There are no rules," she wrote. "Wear what you want, speak your mind, dance, hop, chant, sing, pray, but do not cry in front of me. OK, one rule." After a weekend that included music, pizza, cocktails, individual chats with every guest, and a screening of favorite movie The Dance of Reality, most guests departed and Davis' bed was wheeled out to a hillside at sunset. Accompanied by her sister, her doctor, her massage therapist, and her caretaker, she took a lethal combination of drugs and died around four hours later. (Assisted suicide is legal in four other states and Canada, where the law won't cover American visitors.)