Strange Notations From a Laborious Life

19 years, 11 months. That’s how long ago I sat in a lounge area at the Canberra Southern Cross Club and watched as the vivacious blond woman in the orange, fringed top and long, flowing white skirt walked towards me and introduced herself. Anyone who knows Linda will attest that she can be a force of nature, particularly when you first meet her. She was loud, told funny stories about her life, was brutally honest, more so than anyone I ever met in similar situations. Of course, as I found out, Linda was a much deeper and more complicated person than that, but first impressions usually stick, and such was the case this time.

It’s a long road we travel in life. The years, weeks, days, hours, minutes, seconds, roll into one another, jumble together like socks in a washing machine. We are left a little shell-shocked when happy recollections of times gone by remind us that the passage of time is irrevocable. We would all give up something of value to turn the clock back, to have a moment, an hour, a day back again or simply to have more time. More time.

Linda and I had an appointment with her oncologist yesterday. We have both been dreading it somewhat. Linda has been suffering badly from side effects of her chemotherapy, and we have openly discussed ending her treatment. An MRI scan earlier in the week revealed that cancer spots have been detected on her liver, and the cancer has finally jumped from her bones to her organs. Linda has always been determined that she won’t grovel to the finish. She will end her time on her terms.

Dr Manoharan explained that she didn’t believe the treatment, with all the side effects, was doing much good. There was some more treatment that could be done but its effectiveness is less than 20 percent and the doctor was quick to note that it was people who were looking to explore every last avenue, squeeze out every last drop, who usually opted to stretch it out with that last roll of the dice. She knows Linda is not one of those people. She recommended Linda try to live the best of what is left of her life, without the complications of chemotherapy treatment. We crossed the Rubicon. Linda decided to discontinue treatment. Dr Manoharan gave her a few months to live.

It’s a terrible thing. A tragedy in so many ways. For Linda. For her girls. Her grandsons. For me. Such a life that she has lived. So much yet left to do-that will remain undone. We of course knew the day would come but it’s still a shock when the storm finally breaks.

It’s been through blurry and teary eyes on a warm Saturday morning that I write. A day full of promise but is loaded with sadness. 19 years and 11 months is a long time. But it’s time for the long goodbye.

Until next time.