It is with immense sadness that Nicole and I post this last message on Tony's blog.
He passed away peacefully at Mt Olivet Hospital on Tuesday morning at 4:25 am. We were with him to the end.
He was admitted to hospital on Saturday, because his mobility had deteriorated to the point that he felt vulnerable at home about our capacity to cope. He became weaker overnight and was confined to bed by Sunday. He remained in good spirits all the while, but sleeping more and more. On Monday morning he was much weaker and slept most of the day, which continued into the night, until he just took his last breath.
He was so, so happy to have been in Brisbane this last six weeks so that he could spend lots of time with Nicole, Drew, Aiden (5) and Kai (1). He was there when Kai took his first steps and just enjoyed being with them all. His greatest disappointment was that he was going to miss out on being the quality grandfather to them throughout their lives that he had been looking forward to.
He was the love of my life and my soul mate, I will miss him terribly, but I promised him that I would get on with life in a positive way and so I will do my best.
Thank you to everyone who has posted such wonderful comments on this record of Tony's journey, I will treasure them forever.
A special thank you to my dear friend Rob Kerkin who has been with me throughout these last weeks and whose support has been lifesaving.
A celebration of Tony's life will be held at 2pm (Brisbane time) on Tuesday the 12th of February 2008 at Mount Gravatt Crematorium, Mains Road, McGreggor.
Thursday, 7 February 2008
Thursday, 31 January 2008
Blogging at 2.30 am - get a life
I'm finding it very difficult to sleep during the night. We've tried various remedies, including tonight the old warm milk trick, no matter how hard I try, I can't get past 12midnight, then I wake up about every twenty minutes for the next five hours - yuck. So tonight something different - get up and do some emails and computer work.
Tomorrow the doctor is coming down to give me the once over, and I'm to have some blood tests. Should be interesting to see what the tests say, because "your skin is much better looking today".
I've had a lot of visitors over the past week or so, mostly to say goodbye. Some have been harrowing, some touching - all tiring. More today and tomorrow. When I think about it, tho, I'm not going anywhere, so why not?
Oh , incidentally, there is nothing on night-time tv except skin care and and ancient movie on the ABC. So dull - stay in bed.
Tomorrow the doctor is coming down to give me the once over, and I'm to have some blood tests. Should be interesting to see what the tests say, because "your skin is much better looking today".
I've had a lot of visitors over the past week or so, mostly to say goodbye. Some have been harrowing, some touching - all tiring. More today and tomorrow. When I think about it, tho, I'm not going anywhere, so why not?
Oh , incidentally, there is nothing on night-time tv except skin care and and ancient movie on the ABC. So dull - stay in bed.
Tuesday, 22 January 2008
Maybe just a couple more...
I wanted to respond to all of the messages of support and love I've been receiving - I'm frankly overwhelmed!
For me, this blog was only ever a way of spreading information about my cancer and progress. But people seemed to have latched onto it in a way that I didn't anticipate.
I have to tell you that the brave exterior has collapsed a bit: I am absolutely terrified at the thought of dying. Oh, I'm through all of the K/R stages, I think, and its certainly not any religious consideration. Its just the uncertainty about how fast, how "well", the amount of pain, and my continuing worries about those left behind. I'll be gone, but their pain and loss will go on for a long time - it worries me a lot, particularly knowing there's absolutely nothing I can do about.
Details: selling car, organising funeral directors who won't make me choose Wind beneath my Wings as music, writing notices for the papers, organising a wake not knowing how many people might attend here in Brisbane. Just the normal stuff to do before you go away on a long holiday!
Once again, thanks for your love and support - it means more to me at this stage than you can possibly know.
For me, this blog was only ever a way of spreading information about my cancer and progress. But people seemed to have latched onto it in a way that I didn't anticipate.
I have to tell you that the brave exterior has collapsed a bit: I am absolutely terrified at the thought of dying. Oh, I'm through all of the K/R stages, I think, and its certainly not any religious consideration. Its just the uncertainty about how fast, how "well", the amount of pain, and my continuing worries about those left behind. I'll be gone, but their pain and loss will go on for a long time - it worries me a lot, particularly knowing there's absolutely nothing I can do about.
Details: selling car, organising funeral directors who won't make me choose Wind beneath my Wings as music, writing notices for the papers, organising a wake not knowing how many people might attend here in Brisbane. Just the normal stuff to do before you go away on a long holiday!
Once again, thanks for your love and support - it means more to me at this stage than you can possibly know.
Sunday, 20 January 2008
Maybe the Last Post................
This might be the last time I post on this blog, as things have reached an interesting new low.
I've spent the last three days in hospital (instead of having chemo) having tests to establish why my colour is that of a ripe mango. Of the two possible choices: a blocked bile duct which could be surgically fixed and therefore I could go forward; or a packed it in liver, guess which I got!? Those of you who guessed the worst case scenario collect a lollipop from the lady at the door.
Yep, my liver has packed it in as a result of those little spots that were picked during the surgery on 24 Nov. They have grown aggressively and quickly, and now seem to have got me. The oncologist has suggested that it will be weeks rather than months (he rather liked the idea of 2/3 weeks). The practicalities of the whole ting would seem to be that I will fade away over the next couple of weeks, ending up in a coma, then death. I've been assured that it should be relatively painless, as there are few nerve endings in the liver, which is a blessing for someone who doesn't thrive on pain - and in any case, thing how easily I got through all the chemo: it would hardly seem fair to change those rules now, would it.
Another practicality: we moved to Brisbane quite deliberately to spend time with grandchildren, and to disestablish ourselves from the Canberra operation of the business. I've decided for all that That I want a small service - up here I'm afraid. So keep you eyes peeled for the death notice in the CT for details. Non-religious of course.. Secretaries of Departments of State can piggyback it off appointments witt the Ruddster up here.
I've spent the last three days in hospital (instead of having chemo) having tests to establish why my colour is that of a ripe mango. Of the two possible choices: a blocked bile duct which could be surgically fixed and therefore I could go forward; or a packed it in liver, guess which I got!? Those of you who guessed the worst case scenario collect a lollipop from the lady at the door.
Yep, my liver has packed it in as a result of those little spots that were picked during the surgery on 24 Nov. They have grown aggressively and quickly, and now seem to have got me. The oncologist has suggested that it will be weeks rather than months (he rather liked the idea of 2/3 weeks). The practicalities of the whole ting would seem to be that I will fade away over the next couple of weeks, ending up in a coma, then death. I've been assured that it should be relatively painless, as there are few nerve endings in the liver, which is a blessing for someone who doesn't thrive on pain - and in any case, thing how easily I got through all the chemo: it would hardly seem fair to change those rules now, would it.
Another practicality: we moved to Brisbane quite deliberately to spend time with grandchildren, and to disestablish ourselves from the Canberra operation of the business. I've decided for all that That I want a small service - up here I'm afraid. So keep you eyes peeled for the death notice in the CT for details. Non-religious of course.. Secretaries of Departments of State can piggyback it off appointments witt the Ruddster up here.
Wednesday, 9 January 2008
Chemo's been very tough this time
Question: what looks like a skinny golum, but much yellower and less energetic?
Answer: Me. That was easy, wasn't it?.
My day consists pretty much of lying in bed until its time to get up for breakfast. Carefully wandering downstairs because my balance is not so good, and scratching some cereal around the plate till I feel I've at least had some exercise, if not sustenance. Then, I wander carefully upstairs again to have a long rest to recover from the sudden burst of activity. And so the days go on. I really am at bout the nadir of my experience with this stuff, and thoughts occur that maybe I'm reaching me end time sooner than we thought - or maybe its just the chemo. In any case, I am really just this side of a hospital case. It will be interesting to see what they do with the next bunch of crap, due 18 January. I'm tired now, so I'll have a little rest.
Answer: Me. That was easy, wasn't it?.
My day consists pretty much of lying in bed until its time to get up for breakfast. Carefully wandering downstairs because my balance is not so good, and scratching some cereal around the plate till I feel I've at least had some exercise, if not sustenance. Then, I wander carefully upstairs again to have a long rest to recover from the sudden burst of activity. And so the days go on. I really am at bout the nadir of my experience with this stuff, and thoughts occur that maybe I'm reaching me end time sooner than we thought - or maybe its just the chemo. In any case, I am really just this side of a hospital case. It will be interesting to see what they do with the next bunch of crap, due 18 January. I'm tired now, so I'll have a little rest.
Tuesday, 25 December 2007
Merry Xmas and an update
Well, Gaye and I are officially queenslanders now. We arrived on Saturday morning from Canberra, and immediately installed ourselves into our new home - and that's exactly what it feels like already. Of course, Gaye's mate Rob and our daughter Nicole - along with others - had done an enormous amount of unpacking for us, which made it so much easier. Thank heaven for family and friends!
I had my initial appointment with the oncologist we've been referred to: Paul Vasey. We're both very impresses. Youngish guy, maybe early to mid-40s, but very sharp, very empathetic. He's recommended that I start a four cycle (two month) course of something which escaped me at the time, commencing this Friday!! So much for building the strength and weight up.
In the meantime, I'm cruising along. I'm sleeping poorly, so each day is a series of mini-naps, which then of course makes it harder to sleep at note. I've had the doctor write me up a script for a sleeping tablet, so we'll see how that goes. Tried for the first time last night, but conditions weer not good, with present wrapping happening at 12.30, etc, but indications are hopeful. Roll on a full night's sleep. Maybe.
No change to cancer or prognosis. We're still playing an end game of uncertain length, but I have to say that the idea of a change of process and poison is a positive move: I hope that this time after it all happens, we get some relatively good news.
I had my initial appointment with the oncologist we've been referred to: Paul Vasey. We're both very impresses. Youngish guy, maybe early to mid-40s, but very sharp, very empathetic. He's recommended that I start a four cycle (two month) course of something which escaped me at the time, commencing this Friday!! So much for building the strength and weight up.
In the meantime, I'm cruising along. I'm sleeping poorly, so each day is a series of mini-naps, which then of course makes it harder to sleep at note. I've had the doctor write me up a script for a sleeping tablet, so we'll see how that goes. Tried for the first time last night, but conditions weer not good, with present wrapping happening at 12.30, etc, but indications are hopeful. Roll on a full night's sleep. Maybe.
No change to cancer or prognosis. We're still playing an end game of uncertain length, but I have to say that the idea of a change of process and poison is a positive move: I hope that this time after it all happens, we get some relatively good news.
Saturday, 1 December 2007
Surgery Rules!
Well, my little bout of major gut surgery is over, and shows good signs of having been successful, at least in palliative terms.
I went in, very nervous, on Saturday afternoon, to be cut up by a bit of a Canberra Dream Team. 3.5 hours later, I came into recovery - apparently but unsurprisingly wisecracking all the way. I remember nothing of it, but Gaye tells me it was all very funny, and had the surgeons in stitches!. I actually woke up (sort of) at around 9.30, to the news that Labour was in. That made me feel immediately better.
The time in the high dependency unit was unpleasant, mostly because I had tubes hanging out of me all over the place: nose, side, neck and a catheter. Yuck. Also the bloke in the bed next to me who had an hip replacement snored all night, and wallowed around like a whale. Poor bugger also had 7 hours of renal therapy a day and diabetes. Sometimes I feel a little inadequate when faced with the problems of others!
I've been down on the ward since Tuesday, and every day I feel a little better. I've had practically no pain, which is good, and I've farted and crapped, which is even better from a surgery point of view (honestly!). I'm now totally tube free, so I get in and out of bed at my pleasure. I do get a period of unpleasantness most mornings, where I get flushes and feel unwell, but that passes after an hour or so. And I've had a couple of vomiting spasms over the last two days, but they've been pretty unproductive, so I suspect they're indicative of nothing except repair.
Prognosis. Understand that this surgery was a bypass, not the resection we were hoping for, this means that it was entirely palliative. The cancer is still there, and heading north up the duodenum. This means effectively that I have no medium or long term future, and its uncertain how long my short term will be - it all depends upon what the very unpredictable tumour does. It could be 6 months, 12, or even three. All of which is a bummer, but............. them's the cards.
Brisbane is now ramped up. We are out of the house (settled yesterday) and have a rough date we can get into the house up there (18th December). The only uncertain thing is my health. As soon as the doctors are happy that I'm fit to travel, and don't nee then anymore, we're off. In the meantime, we're downsizing the Lexus (Oh no!) and getting into something a little cheaper.
I went in, very nervous, on Saturday afternoon, to be cut up by a bit of a Canberra Dream Team. 3.5 hours later, I came into recovery - apparently but unsurprisingly wisecracking all the way. I remember nothing of it, but Gaye tells me it was all very funny, and had the surgeons in stitches!. I actually woke up (sort of) at around 9.30, to the news that Labour was in. That made me feel immediately better.
The time in the high dependency unit was unpleasant, mostly because I had tubes hanging out of me all over the place: nose, side, neck and a catheter. Yuck. Also the bloke in the bed next to me who had an hip replacement snored all night, and wallowed around like a whale. Poor bugger also had 7 hours of renal therapy a day and diabetes. Sometimes I feel a little inadequate when faced with the problems of others!
I've been down on the ward since Tuesday, and every day I feel a little better. I've had practically no pain, which is good, and I've farted and crapped, which is even better from a surgery point of view (honestly!). I'm now totally tube free, so I get in and out of bed at my pleasure. I do get a period of unpleasantness most mornings, where I get flushes and feel unwell, but that passes after an hour or so. And I've had a couple of vomiting spasms over the last two days, but they've been pretty unproductive, so I suspect they're indicative of nothing except repair.
Prognosis. Understand that this surgery was a bypass, not the resection we were hoping for, this means that it was entirely palliative. The cancer is still there, and heading north up the duodenum. This means effectively that I have no medium or long term future, and its uncertain how long my short term will be - it all depends upon what the very unpredictable tumour does. It could be 6 months, 12, or even three. All of which is a bummer, but............. them's the cards.
Brisbane is now ramped up. We are out of the house (settled yesterday) and have a rough date we can get into the house up there (18th December). The only uncertain thing is my health. As soon as the doctors are happy that I'm fit to travel, and don't nee then anymore, we're off. In the meantime, we're downsizing the Lexus (Oh no!) and getting into something a little cheaper.
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