Today is a week since I was released from hotel quarantine. And the assisted dying specialist has arrived for her meeting with mum. She asks mum a couple questions such as her age and date of birth. Mum struggles but manages to get all the numbers right.
Mum explains to the specialist that she doesn’t want to be kept alive just to endure the pain of her deteriorating condition. She wants to have the upper hand over her illness and have the final say over her life and death.
The assisted dying specialist is sympathetic but is not going to be able to approve mum’s request.
Although Victorian law permits assisted dying, the anti-euthanasia lobby has a powerful voice and rigorous protocols apply to the granting of an assisted dying request.
Foremost among these is a requirement that a request can only be considered if the person is of sound mind, that is, not having previously been diagnosed with dementia or clinical depression.
Mum was first tested for dementia about five years ago and the report noted some memory loss but not uncommon for a person of her age. The report did not make a conclusive finding of advancing dementia.
She was seeing a counsellor at the time who said that memory loss can often be associated with depression. And it could be this rather than dementia at work.
Mum often forgets what she is trying to say mid sentence but given time she is always able to re-find the thread of her conversation.
And even now, she always remembers people’s names and faces.
However, she has had a follow up assessment in the past twelve months and her memory has deteriorated quite noticeably.
She is well aware that her memory is fading and is often frustrated and distressed by it. Graeme and I always try and reassure her that there are still many things she does remember and that she shouldn’t get too down on herself.
Although mum pleads with the specialist to help her, she has failed on both the dementia and the clinical depression fronts.
I’m at a loss as to why this couldn’t have been explained to us earlier.
Mum is absolutely livid and dismisses the woman with a disdainful flick of her wrist.
It’s as if a rug has been pulled out from beneath her feet.
I sit with her for a while after the specialist has left and tell her we will assess her options again once we have spoken to her GP.
I visit mum on Saturday and she seems to have moved on from the disappointment of yesterday’s meeting.
On Sunday Graeme and Kiyoe travel to Nagambie and I give myself a day off. It has been a fairly full-on week and I’m ready for some down time.
I arrive at the nursing home around lunch time on Monday and I think someone might have given mum a happy pill. She’s propped up in bed, telling me how excited she is. They are having a movie screening at the nursing home and she has been invited to be in the movie.
Now, I know there is a movie screening at the nursing home today but mum appears to believe she is going to be in the movie. How very amusing!
Gone is the pain and listlessness of last week, replaced with a new-found positivity and sense of appreciation for the fact that she is going to be in a movie.
It’s the same the following day. She has been speaking to the woman who bought her house and she couldn’t be happier to know that it has gone to such a lovely person.
I nod in agreement and tell her its terrific news. I think she’s away with the fairies but I’m glad after the last week that, for now at least, she is in a great space.
It’s not until a couple of days later that I discover the husband and wife that Graeme and I have been dealing with have bought the house for the wife’s sister, who lives in Nagambie and who works at the nursing home. So, when mum was telling me how happy she was, she had already spoken to Christine, who works at the nursing home and who will be moving into mum’s old house.
She’s more aware of what’s going on than I am.
On Wednedsay I visit the medical centre in Nagambie to take a lung function test. I will need to come back in a few days for the results but today I have booked an appointment with the GP to find out the results of my blood test.
So Cholesterol – 7.2. Up from 6.1 on my 2018 test. Ideally should be under 5.
Blood Sugar – 13.2. Wah! 7.7 last test. It’s now official. I am a diabetic.
My GP seems quite alarmed. She asks about my diet and alcohol intake and is surprised when I tell her I typically drink a bottle of wine every day.
It’s actually not quite accurate. I’ve been drinking mostly beer in Indonesia and its only now that I’m back in Australia that I’m drinking wine. But I have no difficulty knocking back a bottle of wine in a single sitting and to be honest, I derive a great deal of pleasure from the activity.
Put me on medication by all means but don’t even try lecturing me about the evils of drink.
The GP bites her tongue but writes me out a script for metformin and atorvastatin.
“Now,” she continues, “one of your bowel samples has come back positive. Do you have haemmoroids?”
I tell her that I have had a couple of incidences and that I have a cream which has proven to be quite effective in treating them.
“Have you noticed any rectal bleeding?”
I reply that I have not.
“Well, the fact that only one of your samples has come back positive suggests that it could be something other than cancer. But you will need to go in for a colonoscopy so we can know for sure.”
“Now should we check your blood pressure?”
It’s still too high.
Mum’s GP writes me a specialist referral for my colonoscopy.
I have enjoyed good health throughout my life and have remained fairly active.
However, I started putting on weight around ten years ago, which was when I first discovered my cholesterol and blood sugar levels were quite high. I stopped drinking at that time for nearly three months, took out a gym membership and overhauled my diet.
I was successfully able to bring my weight down from 95kg (210 pounds) to 80kg. (175 pounds) I also managed to bring my cholesterol and blood sugar levels back within an acceptable range.
I’m now sitting around 85kg and clearly my vital signs are flashing warning lights. I will be relying on medication from here on in to get things under control.
I go to visit mum. And I am carrying a surprise with me. Graeme cooked off some lamb shanks last night and I have a bowl of shank pieces with mashed potato.
She has been eating very little this week but she makes an exception for lamb shanks.
She’s happy enough today but I notice she has moments of anxiety. She is chatting away and then looks uncomfortable and says she needs to go to the bathroom. She’s forgotten that she’s wearing a disposable nappy and doesn’t need to leave the bed. Then she tells me she needs to get ready.
“Where do you need to go?” I ask her.
“I need to go to hospital.”
“Where are you now mum?”
She struggles with the answer.
“You are in your room at the nursing home and you don’t need to go anywhere.”
This immediately registers and she says, “Oh yes, I knew that.”
Strange that her cognitive skills seem to be declining more noticeably than her physical state.
By Friday though she is experiencing considerable pain even though she is taking strong medication. We need to speak to her GP but she is off duty today.
As we are heading into a long weekend it will be Tuesday before we can make an appointment.
On Saturday I am accompanied by a surprise visitor. Cynthia, an old girlfriend of my brother Andrew, who was very close to mum, has made contact with Graeme and I.
I’m not sure if mum will remember her but she does and it is a happy yet tearful reunion.
They talk for a long time. Cynthia is a single parent whose son is now 18. She has some photos which she shares with mum. Mum talks about her experience with the assisted dying specialist which surprises me, as she has made no mention of it since the meeting last week and I honestly thought she had forgotten.
As we prepare to leave, I remind mum that tomorrow is her 86th birthday. She says that she can’t wait for that and it’s going to be a great day.
Graeme has baked a cake and we have bought a big bunch of flowers and two giant balloons in the shape of an eight and a six.
We arrive at the nursing home and are gathering things out of the car when we are met by one of mum’s old friends, Jessie.
She’s looking forlorn and she says it’s so sad about mum. I tell Jessie that mum was in great spirits yesterday. She shakes her head and says she’s not looking good today.
We enter mum’s room and I’m completely taken aback. She is lying with her head to one side of the pillow and she barely moves to acknowledge us as we set down her cake and birthday balloons. Where yesterday she struggled to make sentences, today she is struggling to articulate single words.
Gone is the positive energy of the past week, replaced by a sense of despondent resignation.
I honestly can’t believe the change in a little over twelve hours.
Graeme trys to bolsters the mood by suggesting we make a videocall to Emma.
Emma is similarly shocked by mum’s appearance, Telishea and Jason are visibly distressed.
Graeme switches to voicecall and tells Emma he will have her on the next bus from Adelaide.
It is going to be a race against the clock.