Apologies for a long post. Yesterday my mum died after a short but horrendous journey with cancer. She started feeling ill in December, and was told she had a virus. Went back to GP in January and had blood tests and an x Ray and then was submitted to several investigations which, for a 90 year old lady, were so difficult and embarrassing to endure. Diagnosed February with Stage 4 Ovarian cancer which had spread to lungs and lymph nodes. Initially we were given some hope - the Consultant Gynaecologist felt that even though she was 90, she was in such good shape that she was a good candidate for chemotherapy - she looked more like 70 than 90 and was very fit. However, because of this awful Corona virus, it didn't happen - she was told that going to hospital for chemo was just too high a risk at this time. She was deaf so all of the medical discussions over the phone took place with myself - and phone consultations were safer than face to face . So I had to tell her that they could do nothing for her. She put on such a brave face for us - but I saw the fear and disappointment when I dropped that bombshell. She deteriorated quickly but her strength and courage were amazing- the Macmillan nurse assigned to her said she has never seen anything like it. Even 3 days ago, she still dragged herself out of bed, and with my help she would shower and dress and sit in her chair in the living room. She could hardly breathe, had no appetite and had severe diarrhea for weeks which she couldn't control - she felt dirty all the time because of the accidents, but she kept going, for us. But it broke her heart that she couldn't say goodbye to her friends and family because of Corona Virus. 2 days ago she couldn't get out of bed, although she managed to swing her legs out and be lifted to the commode - that was important to her. But the suffering she then endured that day and the following one was something I could never have imagined in my wildest dreams. Yesterday a driver was inserted into her thigh to help with medication as she was really gasping for breath - so then she couldn't get out of bed and she couldn't swallow so wasn't allowed a drink - not even sucking on ice cubes. She begged me for a drink and to use the commode and I had to say no - the hurt and confusion in her face was heartbreaking. And then she was sedated because she kept trying to climb out of bed. And I never got to speak to her again. After several hours of sedation she stopped breathing. I can't stop feeling guilty for putting her through all that, even though the rational part of me knows it wasn't my decision and I had no choice.
