Palliative Care is Beautiful and I Hate It

My aunt is dying. I have  written that sentence out many times before and I have even said it a few times, with a dull feeling of numb acceptance.

Sometimes I don't know why they have started a new treatment. The other day they started chemotherapy. Do they honestly think it will work? Really?

My aunt is dying.

 

Mum, Me, My Auntie - late 2012.

             

The room is beautiful. There is artwork on the wall and, short of a funeral, I have never seen so many flowers for a single person at one time. I signed to my mum, when my aunt was sleeping just now, "which ones do you like best?" But she replied "I don't know" because it doesn't really matter. They are all beautiful and I hate them all.

The room would've once been a 4 bed ward, back in the day. There is a large and not totally uncomfortable couch, two Regency chairs (think of special needs recliners), another recliner, other chairs - no shortage of space for visitors. My uncle stays here every night and the mattress, as far as I can see, doesn't look like your run of the mill back breaking hospital mattresses. It looks like it may actually fit him and his long legs.

An awkward family photo - my 19th birthday. (Uncle is taking the photo)

      

Nobody writes "get well soon" anymore. Nobody buys those sort of cards. They write that they are always thinking of her and they are sending all their love. Perhaps there are even people praying for her, I don't know.

I know she has had a good life, but it wasn't meant to be like this. Nobody knows what the future holds, but I can assure you this isn't good. She will not attend her son's or nephew's or niece's weddings. I doubt she will see her son or myself reach 21, my birthday is in 5 months time.  Our dogs will both out live her. Her elderly parents will likely outlive her. No grandchildren.

And I simply hate it.

She is so much more than my aunt. She shared the place of mother along with my own mother and maternal grandmother. I could not figure out why I was not one for the general Mothers Day dedications on Facebook, until I realized it didn't feel right until I included all three women. They are all significant in raising me.

We do selfies and gosh don't they look good! This is the photo I use for my Mother's Day dedications. It was taken on Christmas Day, 2011. My Aunt, Mum, Me, and my Grandmama.

My aunt is dying.

Palliative care is beautiful and somewhat serene. But no matter how many flowers or presents people send, no matter how large and comfortable the room and no matter how many prayers are said: my aunt is dying.

And I hate it.