Wednesday was another lovely day. I went to see Marion for our hairdressing session and I took her some sunflowers - because they are cheerful. She looked tanned, and was wearing shorts - although less "kempt" than she usually is. "You look well!" I said - but then felt it was an odd thing to say - given her liver cancer. She didn't have the usual "full works" hair do - and she was tired, her eyes kept closing. I noticed while she was having her hair cut that her body was rather swollen - her legs looked normal but her abdomen looked lumpy - she's quite slender. She was wearing a couple of baggy tops and no bra - she's usually pretty "well presented" as they say in job adverts..
She wouldn't let me talk properly until Tim, the hairdresser went - then she let me choose some lunch and we went into the garden. It was a lovely hot day and we just sat there and chatted - I offered to go if she needed to rest but she asked me to stay. Martin came and joined us for a while. I could see how worried he was. Marion admitted she'd known about the liver cancer since Easter Sunday - I asked her about her treatment, the proposed trip to Italy, she was a bit evasive about that - said it depended on the chemo which would start next week. I talked a little about Sue G who died of liver cancer - and trying to have the best time possible in the time available. And not wanting to spend time with people who came and sapped energy by saying "Oh poor you!" and collapsing in soggy heaps... and while we sat there she ignored the phone - lots of calls from family and friends.
I did a lot of the talking - and occasionally Marion's contribution was a bit garbled, which I attributed to painkillers. But on the whole, it was a nice conversation and I felt OK about babbling on because she seemed to want the distraction and it is always good to make people laugh when they are sick. I told her about the NY agent and she tipped her head to one side as if she was listening to her intuiton - "Yeah," she said "I'm going to say she'll take you on." That felt quite positive at the time. We didn't discuss religion (Marion was a Catholic who attended the village CofE church) but at one point I was telling her about our Muslim student and how I'd had to explain to him that Christians believe God is Love... "although he has a funny way of showing it sometimes" - but she didn't rise to that. Eventually Ruth arrived and we chatted a bit - and I said I would go. I gave her a kiss - she was sitting down, so I ended up kissing her forehead - like I used to do with my mother when she was bedridden. It was nice, it feels curiously intimate kissing the forehead - a sort of benediction.
On the way out I had a few words with Ruth - who said "I'm just hoping - you know - alternative treatments..." I said "Look Ruth, I don't want to be harsh, but liver cancer is one of the worst kinds - treatment has improved in the last 20 years since my friend - but it will get her - but there should be some really good periods of remission before that I hope." Afterwards I felt perhaps I should not have blighted her hopes like that, but I was rather convinced that Marion was seriously ill.
On Friday I had an email from Anna T who had spoken to her - and had been shocked that she couldn't eat and was nauseous. The district nurse had said she should go into hospital. Tonight Anna emailed to say that she had been taken into a hospice and died on Saturday. It is almost impossible to believe that I was with her only 4 days before - and that she was a continuing part of my life - and now that's stopped, she's stopped. Her poor family - she was so much their focus - even though they are all grown up... what a misery.
It was such a nice day - apart from her illness, I didn't think "I might never see her again" although I wondered when - but at the same time I was aware that she might not have so much time left. I am so touched that she made the energy to have the hairdo and to have me there.
By coincidence, Strat has also gone into a hospice this weekend. The funeral clothes are going to get a good outing this month. What can you do except laugh? This is the lot man was born for... I'm not crying, she was a lovely friend, and now that part of my life is over - and her family are terribly bereaved. We all hope that death is not the end - but if it is, then at least there have been days like this.
 |
| Almost unrecognisable in glasses - but I['m glad to have found a picture - even if it's not quite how I remember her. |
She wouldn't let me talk properly until Tim, the hairdresser went - then she let me choose some lunch and we went into the garden. It was a lovely hot day and we just sat there and chatted - I offered to go if she needed to rest but she asked me to stay. Martin came and joined us for a while. I could see how worried he was. Marion admitted she'd known about the liver cancer since Easter Sunday - I asked her about her treatment, the proposed trip to Italy, she was a bit evasive about that - said it depended on the chemo which would start next week. I talked a little about Sue G who died of liver cancer - and trying to have the best time possible in the time available. And not wanting to spend time with people who came and sapped energy by saying "Oh poor you!" and collapsing in soggy heaps... and while we sat there she ignored the phone - lots of calls from family and friends.
I did a lot of the talking - and occasionally Marion's contribution was a bit garbled, which I attributed to painkillers. But on the whole, it was a nice conversation and I felt OK about babbling on because she seemed to want the distraction and it is always good to make people laugh when they are sick. I told her about the NY agent and she tipped her head to one side as if she was listening to her intuiton - "Yeah," she said "I'm going to say she'll take you on." That felt quite positive at the time. We didn't discuss religion (Marion was a Catholic who attended the village CofE church) but at one point I was telling her about our Muslim student and how I'd had to explain to him that Christians believe God is Love... "although he has a funny way of showing it sometimes" - but she didn't rise to that. Eventually Ruth arrived and we chatted a bit - and I said I would go. I gave her a kiss - she was sitting down, so I ended up kissing her forehead - like I used to do with my mother when she was bedridden. It was nice, it feels curiously intimate kissing the forehead - a sort of benediction.
On the way out I had a few words with Ruth - who said "I'm just hoping - you know - alternative treatments..." I said "Look Ruth, I don't want to be harsh, but liver cancer is one of the worst kinds - treatment has improved in the last 20 years since my friend - but it will get her - but there should be some really good periods of remission before that I hope." Afterwards I felt perhaps I should not have blighted her hopes like that, but I was rather convinced that Marion was seriously ill.
On Friday I had an email from Anna T who had spoken to her - and had been shocked that she couldn't eat and was nauseous. The district nurse had said she should go into hospital. Tonight Anna emailed to say that she had been taken into a hospice and died on Saturday. It is almost impossible to believe that I was with her only 4 days before - and that she was a continuing part of my life - and now that's stopped, she's stopped. Her poor family - she was so much their focus - even though they are all grown up... what a misery.
It was such a nice day - apart from her illness, I didn't think "I might never see her again" although I wondered when - but at the same time I was aware that she might not have so much time left. I am so touched that she made the energy to have the hairdo and to have me there.
By coincidence, Strat has also gone into a hospice this weekend. The funeral clothes are going to get a good outing this month. What can you do except laugh? This is the lot man was born for... I'm not crying, she was a lovely friend, and now that part of my life is over - and her family are terribly bereaved. We all hope that death is not the end - but if it is, then at least there have been days like this.
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