Hello All -- Last week my brother's family came to New York where I live and together we relived his life, his grim news of last fall, and his subsequent death eight weeks later of pancreatic cancer. Although very difficult and sad, the days we spent in reflection marked the beginning of real closure for all of us.
Those who know my story know these facts: My brother, aged 60, had no symptoms except a persistent backache when he was diagnosed last October with Stage 4 PC. The weeks from diagnosis to death were spent in and out of hospitals, in and out of pain, on this med, on that med, stent in, stent out, chemo on, chemo off. The outcome was inevitable no matter what the doctors did. Surgery was never an option for him. No matter how much we loved him, no matter how much we prayed for him, interceded for him, bargained for him, he died a week before Christmas, 2006.
New writers to this forum ask over and over again: How will I know when the end is near? Big question. When my mother died of cancer a year ago I asked the same question. The answer would be for me, not her -- I wanted to be prepared. So I read the books, asked the professionals, watched her closely since she was in my care, comparing what I saw with what I was told.
Later, with my brother, I watched again. Kind of a rewind, actually, as the illness gap between my two loved ones was painfully close, the symptoms similar, the disease's target, however, a different organ. This time I kept my own counsel, not treating his dying as some roadmap of morbid signs but instead as the preparation of a human to ready himself for his next journey.
These are my conclusions about "last signs" (and I will use the masculine pronoun but mean no ill respect in doing so): When a human being is ready to leave us, he actually has a foot in two worlds, ours and the next. From time to time, we think he is rallying, that the crisis is past and that he is as we once knew him. He laughs, he remembers, he reaches out, he asks for a favorite food, he enjoys company.
In a blink of an eye he leaves again, falling into a deep sleep, breathing noisily, mouth open, eyes open then closed. Often there is no waking him and so we sit by the bed, reading, praying, waiting.
The routine repeats itself, with added bodliy failures -- until he is ready to leave.
We humans are impatient people. We are used to the quick fix, instant breakfasts, fast food. But we have no timetable on this readiness. We have no way of knowing if there will be any kind of turnaround or when. We pester doctors, implore nurses, beg caregivers. And despite this being the "information age," we are not given any real information at all on anything relating to the process of dying or the person we love nor any solid facts to go by, whether the news we seek is bad or good.
And so we come to this forum, where in anonymity we can bare our souls to strangers going through the same thing, asking questions in words we dare not let past our lips, seeking answers we don't want to hear.
One thing is for sure -- death comes to us all. Those loved ones who have been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer know the outcome, whether the days remaining are long or short. The rest of us are often caught off guard by Mr. Death, by the Grim Reaper, Das Earl Koenig, whatever name you want to use, and so go about our lives as if we will live forever. We go to work, pay our bills, eat our meals, take a shower, go to bed. Routine and predictable. But when a loved one passes, we are shocked into such great agony that we hardly know where to turn. We find ourselves alone, left behind to mourn, to count the days until we will see him again, to remember the good days and not the troublesome ones, to recall him as he once was and not as he was dying.
I write today because I have paid my brother - and my mother - their proper respects and it's time to move on. I am approaching 70 myself and thus am on borrowed time. I retired from my regular job the day after my family left. I have children and grandchildren who expect me to do something fabulous with the rest of my allotted days and cannot disappoint them.
I thank all of you who have shared your painful stories with me. You have helped me beyond measure and I wish you peace. For those who come after us, re-read these messages. All you need to know is here.
Big Sister Pat
A website for discussions about any type of cancer, including lung cancer, breast cancer, prostate cancer, laryngeal cancer, leukemia, lymphoma, multiple myeloma and others
Reply With Quote
