Margaret
My friend
Jennie had breast cancer. It was a big unbearable burden to herself,
her friends and her children. Sitting at her desk her hand would creep
over her shoulder, wondering, waiting, wanting to know is it back. Coping
with life's everyday occurrences took all her strength, children's exams,
car damage, and plumbing problems. The doctors won't listen; there is
nothing to be done. The days pass, gambling, dodging, wishing, and hoping.
It is back. What will happen to the children? What is it like to die?
Maybe she won't die. She is going to try to live but can she bear any
more treatment, chemotherapy, radiotherapy, hair, no hair, scarves,
every day, Bristol diet, massage, shopping, misery. Will anything work?
Why can't anyone help? Where is everyone who knows? The chemo works
for a month, frequent pilgrimages to the Marsden, queue here, sit there,
wait here, make sure you have everything, a cuppa tea, and its four
hours later. Some help some hope. Its better, it's worse. I can't stand
it, she can't stand it but there is no going back Jennie is in this
deep black hole and with everyday the hole gets blacker and deeper,
her distress is overwhelming. 'What is it like to die? What happens?
Sing to me, hold me, I'm so frightened'. Dying is about changing, you
will always be part of us, and you will not disappear. The hole gets
lighter and sleep comes. The days pass it is Jennie and its not Jennie,
she is angry,"take it away, let me be, there is no one who really
knows what its like, no one really cares. Who will ever know, ever really
know and do something. Please do something someone, I don't want to
die, I've hardly lived, I want to live".
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