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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