Of Mice and Men

The worst thing about staying at home recovering from a major operation is that you have too much time to think.

Five years ago, I began to consider whether or not I had lived ‘a completed life’. I drew up a chronological history of my life, then started writing stories about some of my life’s more interesting events. All of this writing ending up becoming my memoir: A Completed Life (well, almost). The (well, almost) included entries such as my mother still being alive and I had dedicated myself to looking after her until she passed (which I did) and giving my nieces and nephews (and their children, pictured with Mom) early inheritances (which I also completed). I had had a full and rewarding series of careers, I had paid my taxes and been an exemplary citizen —in both South Africa and New Zealand. My final conclusion was that I had indeed lived a completed life and put into motion plans to end my life through voluntarily stopping eating and drinking (VSED).

I shared my decision openly and honestly over several years with everyone I knew. My memoir described the life I had led and why I was considering ending my life. I knew that my decision would be challenging for many but it seemed, initially, that people were thoughtful in their responses leading me to believe that they had understood my decision and accepted it. Blinded by own determination and belief that I had lived a completed life I continued with my end-of-life plans. I heard the questions that family and friends posed but continued to believe that I had their support. In fact, quite a few people thanked me for raising discussions on the subject of aging as well as death and dying and how as a society we do not think about it and we certainly don’t talk about it.

But as the passage of my VSED ensued, many people (and you know who you are and I thank you) decided that I was making a terrible mistake and that I should stop VSED immediately. Amongst their reasons were: I was too young; I was too healthy and I still had much to offer the world at large. This initiated some niggling doubts in my mind—what if they were right? Did I really want to deny all of them the opportunity of continuing to enjoy my company and friendship for the years to come? On Friday 31st January, I went to sleep after making the decision to resume eating and drinking the very next day.

What I did not know as I fell asleep that night was that a malignant disease had been developing in my colon and would soon show its ugly face. Cancer. Two weeks after stopping VSED, I began to experience severe abdominal pains. So bad was the pain that at 3.30am on Saturday 15 February I called an ambulance to take me to hospital. What I had thought to be abdominal pains having resumed eating and drinking turned out to be Stage 3B colon cancer.

On the urgent advice of a Middlemore Hospital surgical team, I underwent an ileostomy to remove almost all my large colon – a major 6-hour operation. The removal of my colon meant that I had to have a stoma (the open end of the small intestine) protruding from my abdomen attached to a colostomy bag to collect the liquid waste. I know that many people live with this procedure for long periods of time but I cannot. Because I had had the cancer cut out, I decided against having any further chemotherapy.

Fortunately in my case, it is possible to have a stoma reversal operation so that the bag is no longer required and ablutions can return to normal. Except it won’t. Not having a large intestine means that liquid cannot be removed from waste resulting a more solid stool. Although medication can help to harden that stool, it is likely that it will always be looser. I will need to live with this for the rest of my life.

As I wait for the stoma closure operation to be scheduled, I have had much time to think about what has happened over the past year or so. What if I knew about the developing cancer diagnosis several months earlier; would I still have embarked on the VSED process to end my life? On hearing the cancer diagnosis on 15 February, why did I agree to have the ileostomy and not simply accept that I now had a terminal illness which would eventually end my life?

No-one knows what the future will hold and I sit now composing this message wondering how the rest of my life is going to pan out. I think, that once the stoma closure is done, I am likely to return to some part-time teaching in order to receive an income. I have been trying to live on my NZ superannuation (pension) but it is just not possible. If I want to travel overseas and visit family and friends anytime soon, I am going to have create a greater revenue stream.

As I ponder, I think of Burns and Steinbeck’s reference— ‘the best-laid plans of mice and men often go awry’.