There is life and death in this little community of Yarnell with a high percentage of retirees, seniors, aging boomers, and almost centurions. And let’s face it, death is not the part of life most of us want to think or talk about. Thus I am struggling with this and why I haven’t posted in a while. Death has been on my mind lately and I have been talking about it. My best friend Berta is dying of cancer. There, I said it.
The camper is parked in Berta’s yard and I am helping wherever I can.
Beginning in mid-February Berta noticed difficulty writing and walking in a straight line the direction she wanted to go. I took her to Prescott hospital some 40 miles north of our rural little town in preference to the much smaller Wickenburg 25 miles south. Tests and scans were done. Weeks later a second opinion at Mayo Clinic in Scottsdale with a biopsy confirmed lung cancer metastasized to multiple brain tumors.
Western medicine tells us brain cancer is incurable, yet there is still a push for radiation treatment followed by chemo. And doctors don’t know if either really help a person live longer. Five minute full brain radiation treatments are daily for 2-3 weeks with a long drive so even though presumably not painful would be exhausting. Berta did a lot of research regarding these suggested treatments, natural alternatives, and change in diet to reduce inflammation. For a couple weeks ideas changed almost daily. Yet during this time steroids and anti-seizure medicine have been helping immensely.
Berta’s daughter came down from Portland for two weeks during the zaniest of doctor visits. Her second week here I took the opportunity to get away for a few days and visited with friends volunteering at Casa Grande National Monument only four hours away.
Side yard view
The big question is “How long do I have to live?” And nobody can tell us that. Her daughter, SIL, grandchildren, friends, and I are not dealing with this anywhere near as well as the patient. We will feel the pain of her loss, she will be set free. She is not in pain, just looking to increase the days, weeks, months, or years. Did you know there are no pain receptors on your brain? This is about quality of life. If I could feel good and go about my life, I believe that would be my choice. Sometimes I think that ignorance is bliss.
I selfishly think of who will take care of my mail. Will I have an address or excuse to be in Yarnell? Where will I call home base? Who will kick my butt when I’m stupid and hug me when I’m down? Who will laugh at the antics like repacking the Toyota at a yard sale five times to get it all in? Really, you had to be there.
birthday sunset
The end of March came. After weeks of me doing a lot of nothing, labeling photos, spending way too much time on Facebook, driving to town, and being available, on the morning of my birthday when I’m happily answering FB birthday wishes, I ignore multiple phone calls until a text comes through that Berta has been stung by a scorpion. OMG, I’m on the run as she’s been stung before and experienced anaphylactic shock. But this time she’s OK with Benadryl and ice. We actually went out for an early dinner that day.
A couple days later Berta fell outside and I didn’t hear her calling. The 7th day Adventists were driving by, saw her, and notified me. She lost her balance and had a “wake-up call” to use the walker. Scraped arm, don’t think she bumped her head. Scary that I didn’t hear her. Does this mean someone around 24/7? The idea scares both of us. She begins to wear the car’s panic button which I would surely hear, along with the neighbors.
I am scared. I’m loosing my best friend. I feel broken, and fragile. Thank goodness for a few people in town that help me ground and get out of the pity pot. I move past the sorrow and become more realistic and positive.
Berta, for the most part, is happy. Maybe sleeping more and running around less, but still sharp most of the time. When she’s fatigued, forgetfulness occurs more frequently and motor skills are not the best.
Her daughter and SIL come for another visit. For now, Berta wants to be in her home. Yet we all know a time will come when we are not able to help anymore. I will stay for her as long as I am able. Right now, life is one day at a time.
“Because we don’t know when we will die, we get to think of life as an inexhaustible well. Yet everything happens only a certain number of times, and a very small number really. How many times will you remember a certain afternoon of your childhood? Some afternoon that is so deeply a part of your being that you can’t even conceive of your life without it? Perhaps 4 or 5 times more. Perhaps not even that. How many more times will you watch the full moon rise? Perhaps 20 and yet it all seems limitless.”
–Paul Bowles from The Sheltering Sky
I have enjoyed reading your posts very much, and love your photographs, and so was sad to read your latest news. There is nothing one can say that will make the coming weeks any easier – they are a journey which has to be taken. It will be a life-changing journey and any way you both deal with it is fine – there are no rules. I wish you strength.
Thank you very much Candy. It’s taken a bit of strength already and the journey isn’t over yet.
I am so very sorry to read about Berta’s condition. You are such a good firend to her and I’m sure that it comforts her greatly to have you there by her side. I loved the photo of her watering brought me a feeling of great peace, because that’s how I feel when I water the yard by hand. It’s a simple thing, but one that is relaxing and gives time to reflect on life – that’s the way I see it.
Absolutely love your birthday sunset photo – it’s spectacular. Xoxox to both you and Berta.
Berta loves to water and feed the birds so it was wonderful to see her out with the walker doing what she loves. That’s what we should all do.
I am so sorry to here about your friend Gaelyn. You are right to spend time with her because you will miss her when she is not there. It won’t be easy I know and I wish you all the courage and strength for the time needed.
Thank you Rita. I want to enjoy her company as long as I can.
The stories of your friend Berta over the years have made me smile. This one made my cry. Of course. It is awful to lose your best friend, yet I am glad as I am sure you are that you are there. You no doubt remember me losing one of my best friends Bel in 2013. Still hurts, even though we only saw each other maybe once a year. So I have a clue how you are feeling and send you hugs.
Thanks for the hugs. I know it isn’t easy for anyone to loose a loved one. She is my soul sister. So I do feel happy and fortunate to have this special time together. Life is short, we need to enjoy every minute.
I think you said it perfectly:
“We will feel the pain of her loss, she will be set free.”
I’m sad that you are losing your best friend. I hope she remains pain free and is able to enjoy the time she has left. Cancer sucks!
Yes, cancer does suck. Robbing many before their natural time. Thanks for your concern.
Such a moving post Gaelyn. I know how it is to live with death walking right beside you. Your Paul Bowles quote is perfect as are your photographs. The pictures are just the right shots and mood. Berta and you are lucky to have each other. You to have a best friend you love and she to have one who will walk this path with her. Who will be the Gaelyn for you and for me??
They can do wonderful things for Cancer these days in terms of prolonging a changed but reasonable quality of life – for a while and not without multiple side effects. But sometimes I wonder if they are even really looking for a cure or just drugs and more drugs for us to take.
Please give Berta a hug for me and all the bright light and energy I can send her. I know this road far too well.
You, of all people, know this story too well. Yet I have learned much from you and David along the way. I know how fortunate I am to have this beautiful lady in my life for almost 14 years, and maybe more. I wonder who will be here for me as I have no children but will cross that bridge when I come to it. She is getting a lot of extra hugs today which I continue to pass along. Hell, she’s been here two months just since the diagnosis so she’s got more time.
Berta is fortunate to have a best friend like you. I’m glad you have have shared her cancer with us and hope it makes you feel better now that you can talk about your pain as you and Berta travel this horrible journey. Take care and I will keep you both in my thoughts.
Doug
Thanks Doug. Wasn’t easy to share but needed to be told.
I was shocked when I started reading the post and calmed as I continued. What bad news. But one should never allow such news to take you out and it sounds like Berta isn’t allowing it to. I have a Geocaching friend who is going through the same thing with stomach cancer. He’s given up on the treatment as it’s making him weak and not helping as it has gone to far. But he has decided that it’s not going to get him under. He’s enjoying life and out caching whenever he feels up to it. The best we can do is be there for them. All the best to Berta and greetings from South Africa.
Berta is a trooper with a positive attitude that will carry her to the end. Has always helped me out that way and will continue to. Best wishes to your friend. I love seeing your kids grow.
I know how difficult this must be for you but at least you are there and getting to spend time together. My best friend from PA was killed in a bicycle accident in 2013 and I never got to say goodbye to her. Life just sucks sometimes, doesn’t it?
It does, but beats the alternative. I do feel fortunate to be here. Worse not to be able to say goodbye.
I know you will find the strength to be a loving and caring friend to Berta. You have a special relationship with her and it is wonderful that you can be there for her during her time of need
Your love for her is there and she feels it. continue to be strong and caring.
Thanks. Quite a bit of learning going on here. Hope you two are doing well.
Tough times, Gaelyn. I’m so sorry.
Thanks.
We had Fran’s mother with us the year of her life, I know it is not easy. But then again it was a privilege to share that part of her life her. We set up a video/audio ‘baby monitor’ to give her some space, but still be in instant contact. And you are so right it is indeed harder on the caregiver than the patient! It became hard to tell who needed who the most.
In the end Fran and I buried our mothers within a couple months of each other. Not our favorite year.
I’m sorry for both of your losses. We all go through this loss whether friends or family.
Oh, Gaelyn, I’m so sorry. My father had a brain tumour. The length of time, as you say, cannot be predicted. The disease trajectory is predictable. If you go to my blog post, and check out the resources they might help you. Pain Assessment tools, as well as the ESAS, and the Palliative Performance Scale helped me understand my dad’s trajectory.
The thing about brain tumours is that their location affects that part of the body system. For example, my dad’s tumour was in the area of language. We could tell when it progresses as he first was unable to retrieve nouns, then he’d mix up words in sentences. He could sing, though!
I am a hospice volunteer, as well as being a caregiver to my late parents. If you want any thing, let me know. I think the important thing is to talk about it. It really helps.
Thanks Jenn. There are at least 10 lesions. I will check out your suggestions and appreciate info and help. Talking about it does help.
Oh Gaelyn. I’m so sorry. For a minute when I read your last line about not being able to leave a comment, I thought you meant I might not be able to because I wouldn’t know what to say. (I see what you meant now, but I still don’t know what to say.) It is so hard.
But you don’t really need me to do anything (except maybe to send a virtual hug) ….. you articulated your feelings so honestly and so beautifully, It’s such a hard time. As you say, living in a ‘senior-friendly’ neighborhood brings more than a tiny amount of experience with illness, death and dying , but at least for me it does not get easier with such experience.
I am glad Berta is pain-free.
Thank you for being able to share this. I wish I could help more.
Thank you for being here and listening. I’m not alone in this.
You are giving Berta such a gift, that she can be in her home. My Mom died of a brain tumor after two years in hospitals and nursing homes. It was not a good death, and it was made worse by multiple medical treatments that did not help, but hurt. I’m so sorry you are losing such a good friend.
Thank you for the comment. The treatments are poison, much like our food. Welcome back to AZ.
Oh, I’m so sorry, Gaelyn. You two have been quite the pair. What fun, fabulous, and difficult times you have shared. Life’s jewel: a soul sister! Wishing you both peace in this hard time.
Thanks Keek. We’ve enjoyed an amazing ride.
So sorry to read about Berta. It’s wonderful that you have been able to stay near by to offer help and spend time with your friend. Thinking of you both and sending positive vibes and prayers:)
Thanks.
Today’s post has touched my heart immensely and Berta sounds like an amazing lady. She also has an amazing best friend and you both will probably get more out of this experience than you ever thought possible. When the time comes, she will be fulfilled and you will not have any regrets beyond the obvious. Blessings to you both and I commend Berta’s decision to avoid the nasty treatments. I have never experienced anything like this but I applaud you for opening up and sharing your pain.
Thank you for the thoughtful comment. Berta is an amazing lady. I learn from her all the time. I am really glad I have the time and opportunity to be here with her.
Gaelyn,
I was stunned when I began perusing the post. I am so sorry to learn about your companion. You are all in all correct to invest energy with her since you will miss her when she isn’t there. It won’t be simple I know and I wish all of you the fearlessness and quality for the time required.
Thank you for your concern. Did you know my friend, or just looking to add a link in this post?