The only symptoms that I can think of that she displayed was weight loss. When we all went away at the end of June, she seemed fine if not a little tired, but we put it down to her age.
She was admitted to hospital two months ago with a tummy bug, as she was not taking in any liquids. Her condition worsened and she landed up in ICU, we all went to visit her and made light of how she had landed up in hospital. After a week or so she was released and then soon after was back again. This time full tests were done and it was revealed that she had cancerous cells in her lungs. Not a shock to us, as she was a heavy smoker, what was a shock was the extent to which the cancer had spread. When I think back now, to all the places she pointed on her body complaining of pain, it makes sense. She was feeling the cancer ache in her bones. FUCK! She was lobbied between oncologists and no decision could be made on treatment. The argument was, would it prolong or shorten, hinder or help her health. The truth is... with how far the cancer had spread, her age and her physical strength it would not have made any difference, in fact, it may have made her feel worse. I know this from when my father had cancer in 2003. He too had stage 4 colon cancer, but it was located in such a way that they could remove the tumours. This was not the case for Mac.
So she moved back to her flat and got on with life. Just over a month ago I interviewed her for my project on her life story and legacy. Her life was filled with the most incredible stories, people, places and pets. She led a truly full and fulfilling life! She got tired and we never finished filming. It will have to remain unfinished...
Over the weeks she weakened and became clumsy. The decision was made to move her to my uncle two doors down from our house, into the cottage, where she could have round the clock care, and my father and uncle could see her daily. Her bed, her dressing table and her clothes were moved for her. She had all her comforts. All she did was lie on her bed aided by oxygen. She chose not to read, watch television... all she did was sleep, ponder and smoke. She was occasionally visited by family and friends, but got tired out easily. Her pain was increasing and regular pain-killers were not working. She had organised a joint from her friend, and the one day when I went to see her, we were discussing her pain and she asked if I could get her more. I said I could try. Being a non-smoker myself, it would not be a problem getting, it was just getting it past my mom ("the legality" she says). So my friend's dad, a family friend went to visit her and brought her some.
On Monday she was moved into the hospice. It seems that she had become overcome with pain and she asked to be moved. It is a bold, and great person who accepts their life and the inevitable. That is one thing about Mac, she was always very headstrong. She liked things to go her way.
Yesterday morning, Tuesday the 6th, my dad called me and told me to come over and see her. I knew immediately that it would be in a sense a goodbye. It is eery to walk into a place that has seen the deaths of thousands of people and that is essentially an end-of-life care facility. The nurses that work there are true angels and what they do is incomparable. My respect for them is endless. They have seen so much. Individuals go to hospice to die with dignity. The process is quite simple, it is basically a slow euthanasia. The nurses, with advise from the doctors, administer small doses of morphine, sleeping aides, pain killers and other drugs so that one is kept sedated, semi lucid but pain free. The individual is able to slip from this world easily and painlessly. Seems right to me, I mean the patients there have been through enough already. In the room next to my aunt was a 10 year old girl... For fucks sake, she is 10. Life is too cruel sometimes!
So today began with me running to my dad and asking him if he had heard anything, to which he replied that he had not. I was supposed to go through and see her. But seeing as I had seen her the evening before, my dad said that I had said my goodbyes. So I came to work, went to a meeting and when I got back into the office was told that my dad had been trying to get hold of me... my heart sank. I just knew. When I looked at my phone and saw 4 missed calls then I knew for sure. Of course when that happens and you call them back, no on answers. My dad finally got hold of me and told me she was found at around 12h30.
Finally Mac is resting. No more pain. She can smoke all the cigarettes, weed and drink all the G&T's she wants! She is now with all her beloved pets, Precious, Timothy and cats.
Say hi to Granny Thelma, Grampa Issy and Granny Ann will ya! Miss you, Love you!
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| Marion Gay Feinberg b. 1936 d. 7 December 2011 |
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