featuring MARTLETS HOSPICE for terminal illness
We were at our friends’ wedding in Poland.
I remember the reception room, flooded with light. Light reflecting on the bookcase vitrines, light dancing on the crystal glassware on the table.
Pawel’s mobile rang and for some reason he didn’t take the call in the main room. He went upstairs. I remember thinking he was gone for ages and that it was peculiar that he had left the room. Premonition? He came down eventually and he was changed. A few months later, a common friend told me she couldn’t recognise Pawel – that he had gotten old all of a sudden.
We went back home – to London. There followed a mad rush of sorting things out – we were in the process of buying our first home and I was pregnant. A week later, Pawel left for Poland. He remained there for the next three months.
This was in October. At Christmas I joined him at his family home, in a town in the North of Poland. I couldn’t recognise Mirek – his dad. He had lost so much weight! His mum, Ania, too was changed, she looked tired, but still managed to be the welcoming and warm host she always was.
By then, we knew that Mirek was terminally ill.
That Christmas was different. For me, it was something to get through. For Pawel and the rest of the family, it needed to happen. We all knew it was the last Christmas with Mirek.
Just after Wigilia, the main celebration which in Poland takes place on the 24th of December, Ania told us she wasn’t feeling well. On the 25th in the morning, she couldn’t feel the left half of her body. We took her in for a check-up. By the evening, she had been admitted to hospital, and on the 14th of January, Ania was gone.
Mirek passed away 14 days later.
I will always believe the way Mirek and Ania died was a reflection of the way they lived. They loved each other, and what they had built together was most precious: their family – built against all odds, but bringing them so much happiness. I think they did not see the point of living apart.
RESPITE CARE
We were both fortunately able to spend the last few weeks of my father-in-law’s life with him, in Poland. We did not know at that point that it was going to be just two weeks. We wanted to offer his brother a little respite, from having cared for their father for months – just him, his wife and their very young baby.
It was good to be with him when he passed.
Those last two weeks however, were the longest two weeks I have ever experienced. Days moulded into each other, and nights became strange, woken days. The physical side was hard. Many people warn you that it’s hard to see close family deteriorate to the point of no recognition. It’s hard to separate that image from the idealised version of your own father.
However, by far the hardest thing was the isolation. Being stuck indoors, with no option to get out. You could be needed at any moment – you cannot risk leaving the dying person on their own.
I remembered the heightened need to leave the flat. The only relief we had was from Pani Aniol – Mrs Angel (yes, this is her name!), who was also an actual angel. More about her in a separate post, for now, just a quick note on the importance of relief care. Among the most underestimated needs, respite time for carers is essential in assuring the ideal conditions for the patient.
Today I am supporting Martlets Hospice. They are a charitable organisation offering care for the dying and respite care to the relatives caring for them. All free of charge to the people of Brighton and Hove. Why have I decided to focus on Brighton? Because our own experience of caring for a dying person came to back to my thoughts recently, when speaking to a friend about the recent loss of her husband. He was gently cared for by his wife and the staff at Martlets Hopice. This year on the last day of March, he would have celebrated his 38th birthday.