No More Pain

By Bea Ellemcy

Encouraging progress has been made in the medical field to improve one’s state of health. Magazines, newspapers and the Internet contain articles to excite their readers with promising new discoveries and cures. With all that genius being tapped, an absolute cure for the common cold, HIV Aids and most types of cancer is yet to be discovered. The “Big C”; Cancer still strikes fear into the heart. It has found its ominous way into virtually everyone’s life, through either a loved one, friend, family member or by a personal encounter. Although No More Pain centres on the lesser-known Mesothelioma, it can be compared with stories of other forms of cancer.

No more Pain, is Rita’s story of her family’s journey with Vito, her Italian immigrant husband, through the months of his illness. It is an inspirational narrative richly interspersed with light-hearted diversions, poems, verses and advice. The Foreword, touching on the delicate subject of euthanasia, hints at Rita’s approach to this final phase of life with Vito, and her encouragement to her family and friends to walk the road with him.

Of added interest is a man’s view of his family’s experience with cancer. His wife Anne continued to live a full life for almost thirty years after a double mastectomy. As is the norm, one’s children leave home when adults for greener pastures as did most of theirs – to another province and country – but when illness again gripped Anne, distance did not prevent their participation in her brave battle. Her husband Malcolm has some pertinent questions for the reader to ponder upon.

A twist of fate allowed the author to include a dear friend’s personal encounter with Mesothelioma. It presents a touching finale to No More Pain .

This book is of general interest and many will find courage and inspiration in facing cancer and terminal illness, or will simply feel all the richer for having read No More pain.

A comment made by G.J Smit MD on reviewing No More Pain:
‘Excellent, true and straight from the heart.’

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bea Ellemcy
• Release date: Nov 15, 2016
• ISBN: 9780620732505

Book preview

No More

Pain

Bea Ellemcy

No More

Pain

Copyright © 2016 C.B.M-Batchelor

Published by C.B.M-Batchelor at Smashwords

First edition 2016

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or any information storage or retrieval system without permission from the copyright holder.

The Author has made every effort to trace and acknowledge sources/resources/individuals. In the event that any images/information have been incorrectly attributed or credited, the Author will be pleased to rectify these omissions at the earliest opportunity.

Published by Author using Reach Publishers’ services,

P O Box 1384, Wandsbeck, South Africa, 3631

Printed and bound by Novus Printing Solutions

Edited by Bronwen Bickerton for Reach Publishers

Cover designed by Reach Publishers

Website: www.reachpublishers.co.za

E-mail: [e-mail]

Disclaimer

Please note: most of the names and places in these events have been changed for privacy.

This story is not meant to discredit any medical practitioner, hospital, nursing association, or lay person.

On the contrary, most of those written about have our utmost respect and gratitude.

Dedication

This is dedicated to Celestino, our children and to all who can share a similar experience.

Acknowledgements

Sincere thanks to Delfina for her advice and encouragement with this story (and for providing supper when she knew I was too busy writing to cook a decent meal!). Thanks also to Elizabeth, Valentina and Wendy N. for their help with the typing, especially Wendy N. who had to decipher my handwriting at her home without my help.

Deep gratitude goes also to The National Institute of Occupational Health, Sister Beauty Senabe, and to hospice for their approval and encouragement for me to carry out this project.

Many thanks to Carl for proofreading my finished work.

And last, but not least, to my beloved regular proofreader: John.

Contents

Foreword

Part One

Introduction: The Proposition

The Strong Ox on Christmas Day

Paulo’s Birthday

The cushion Blondie and A Poem for Our Dad

The Angel of Death

The ‘Last Cigarette’: for Our 40Th Wedding Anniversary.

No More Pain!

Part Two

Introduction: Mesothelioma

Remedies

D-Day

Biopsy

Intensive Care

Bizarre!

The Spectre Uncovered

Part Three

Introduction: The Letter

Hospice in Our Lives

Rewards

Home at last! (The Joy in Suffering)

Salvatore’s birthday

Finance, for the Home Executive

A Rest, for Me!

Going Home

Useful Advice: 24 Hours

The Final Agony

A Special Star

The New Door

Part Four

Introduction: Full circle

A Man’s View. (Malcolm’s story)

Rita’s Epilogue

Foreword

The word euthanasia has been taken out of the closet and has had its meaning scrutinised, debated upon and discussed at all levels of society as never before. Modern medicine has progressed in leaps and bounds along with technology in many aspects. However, as fast as progress is achieved, it seems as though new viruses and diseases appear to confound scientists involved in the field of medicine. As tempting a solution as euthanasia might be in some cases of terminal illnesses, from both the points of view of the suffering patient and the physician, they are missing the main point, painful as it sometimes is: that only God is privy to the most important (unseen) data in his files; that person’s date of death!

When the brain is still functioning, while the heart is still beating, is God not the sole owner of that body He created? Then it stands to reason that only when He gives the nod, the body will rest and "the soul will be released like a bird in a cage (as one of my good friends wisely stated), to complete its mystical homeward journey. Rita Ponti’s husband, Vittorio, was an excellent example of one of God’s candidates" of preparation for eternity.

It is written "we are pilgrims on a journey". That journey to our eternal homeland dare not be artificially hastened; what if past hurts, bitterness, buried disagreements or misunderstandings have to be healed, settled and forgiven? Perhaps it is a special chance to break down walls of suppressed emotion; to learn more about the family tree (our ancestors) because, as is often the case, although the patient’s short-term memory is fading, old memories are brought to the fore. Interesting discoveries can be made or one can just learn to hold that person’s hand and say I love you before it is too late.

So much can be achieved during terminal illness. Contrary to the tempting quick-fix disposable idea of euthanasia or pulling the plug, every minute counts. Precious time is of the essence, be it three months or three years. It pays high dividends in the end because good memories last forever!

The story of Rita and her husband is testimony to this truth. People who know how awful it is to see a loved one waste away before their eyes would look at Rita in surprise when she told them it was also one of the most fascinating and profoundly humbling experiences she ever had the privilege of being part of. They wondered at her strength to help nurse him until the end, she herself being a rather frail person, but in such situations, I believe we are given an extra dose of strength to help us take our marriage vows to their fulfilment: In sickness or in health, for better or for worse… It does not take long for the patient, family and friends to learn to handle all the suffering with patience and fortitude. Also, rather than mistakenly seeing it as punishment for any wrongdoing, encourage the sufferer to use that pain constructively. When Vittorio learned how to accept his condition, he became the consoler, a model patient.

Rita was encouraged by people in the medical profession to write about this traumatic but inspiring experience. When she mentioned it to her doctor, his advice was not to walk that painful path just yet, and her children agreed, suggesting she rather take up a hobby. Time is a great healer and, coinciding with her decision to eventually write this story, she received an unexpected telephone call from nursing Sister Nobuhle of the National Institute of Occupational Health (NIOH), who was assigned to Vito’s case. She agreed Rita should write about the illness, not only to help others who are facing or who have faced, cancer or any other terminal illness, but also for those facing industrial diseases, to advise them there are organisations which can help when one’s spouse dies of such a disease.

NIOH’s intrepid Sister Nobuhle traced her through a virtual last-chance phone call to the undertaker who had handled her husband’s funeral. At first he asked how she thought he could help; his job was to bury the dead – not to find a family! But Sister Nobuhle persisted. Her family was found and a very grateful widow was helped.

(Extract from a questionnaire on Rita’s Mesothelioma experiences sent to her by the NIOH: "This was all handled [by Sister] with the utmost dedication to her task. Just having contact with her gave me the courage to continue, especially to save my house.

She will always have my deepest gratitude for everything that she has done for me through the NIOH.)

Perhaps the second most important aim in sharing her story is to encourage doctors and physicians not to assume that unresponsive results of their prognosis and care mean the patient is not following instructions, cannot handle a little pain, or that it is all in the mind. One can understand they have little time to ask a patient many questions about the background of his or her pain or complaint, but when two and two do not make four, even if that life cannot be saved, perhaps with a little research and exploring other avenues, physical and mental pain can be reduced and the quality of life enhanced. In her husband’s case, so much suffering could have been avoided if he had been asked more questions about the background of his work.

In their turn, patients could explore different avenues when pain refuses to go away – not merely accept continued (often costly) medication or diagnoses that do not go to the root of the matter – even if it means seeking a second opinion. With all due respect for the medical profession, one tends to feel intimidated by certain doctors, physicians or specialists and meekly accepts, without question, what one is told.

An example of my own experience: a few years ago I inadvertently overdosed on my thyroid medication while not feeling too well and suddenly I began hyperventilating. I started to panic as I was alone. I phoned my doctor, not knowing what was happening. It was a Sunday and he was not in our area. He said he would alert the hospital and I should get there immediately. However, I had to wait for my son to come from the other side of town and by the time we arrived at the hospital, my fingers were curling inward and were going stiff and I could hardly breathe. I thought I was having a stroke! The doctor and nurses on duty were wonderful and after all necessary tests were done and proven negative, I was allowed to go home. They also made an appointment for me to see a physician within the next few days. I was still not feeling well on that day, so my son took time off from his busy work schedule to accompany me.

After waiting for almost 40 minutes to see the physician, his sympathetic receptionist led me to his rooms then we had to stand in the doorway for at least five more painful minutes while he finished a casual conversation with a friend. In under 15 minutes I was given a brief examination, told that in his opinion what I needed was to see a psychiatrist due to emotional anxiety, and given a letter of referral! Feeling confused, and hoping he was barking up the wrong tree, I phoned my GP. He agreed with me and sent me to another physician (one of my choice). After extensive tests, X-rays and many questions on the history of my family’s health, this caring man discovered some major health problems – one is hereditary. Under his care, my health has steadily improved. Nothing was ever mentioned again about seeing a psychiatrist…

Part One

Introduction: The Proposition

Our art teacher tightened a screw which held the easel together, then moved to the front of the painting. ‘Yes, quite a good effort! Although I think that green in the background is a bit too dark,’ she advised my painting companion. ‘You could try mixing it with more white and a little more yellow ochre – that should do the trick!’ We were members of an organisation of retired men and women and I had recently joined the art classes. This outing, on a perfect autumn day, was to paint on the slopes of Kirstenbosch Botanical Gardens.

‘Oh my,’ my companion exclaimed. ‘This painting effort is harder than I thought. I can’t wait for our tea break!’

Thirty minutes later we all made our way to the tea gardens. ‘Do you mind if you and I sit at the same table?’ she asked. ‘I couldn’t get a word in edgeways with the woman I sat next to in the minibus! By the way, my name is Rita.’ I laughed and said that would be fine and my name is Bea. While we enjoyed our tea break, we chatted with the others at our table, and on the bus back home, having discovered we were both widows, we continued a conversation we had begun earlier.

Rita was expounding her views on widowhood. ‘I can’t say I won’t ever remarry. A few months ago Jack, a good friend we thought the world of, died of leukaemia. Although he lived overseas, I could rely on him for any advice I needed. It’s so hard being alone. Would you get married again?’ she asked.

‘I don’t know Rita, with all my writing and painting I doubt I would have the time to do so. I also lost my husband to cancer. Thank God it was a short illness. Perhaps if I win the lotto I’ll buy a Porsche and find myself a toy boy!’ I said smiling, preferring to keep the conversation light.

On our next outing to Kirstenbosch, Rita brought a thick diary in her paint box. ‘Bea, do you remember saying you had never heard of mesothelioma: the cancer that killed my poor Vittorio? Well it is all in this book, here in my diary! You said you loved writing; I hardly put pen to paper except this old habit of keeping a diary.’ She stopped, took a deep breath and continued, ‘Bea, would you write the story of my husband’s illness? There is so much I want to share with others. No matter what type of cancer, I think there will be the same empathy, the same understanding of all the hopes and fears. I suppose it is natural to fear cancer or any disease that could be terminal, but so much can be gained by the experience. Some nurses of a nursing association and the NIOH asked me to write about it, but they understood I needed time to grieve and re-adjust my life. I feel I can do so now – with your help!’

After my initial surprise at her request, I agreed to return to Kirstenbosch with her the next day to continue with our painting while the good weather held, and