We Fly to Brisbane on Saturday

We Fly To Brisbane on Saturday

Well, it's been a difficult few days, to say the least.

As I was not Uncle John's official next of kin, the nursing staff really couldn't tell me any more than Uncle John was "stable." Even when I spoke to him on the phone, with all the problems he had with his deaf aid, it was very difficult for him to hear what I was saying.

I asked the nursing staff, if they could ask Uncle John for his permission to tell me what had happened to him, but I understand the reluctance of some people to do that. Even though Uncle John knew he was talking to me, of course they didn't know how close I am to him!

One day, though, I was lucky; a very helpful nurse was willing to pose the question:

"John, are you happy for us to tell Alex what has happened?"

And, loud and clear, came back Uncle John's reply: "Yes!"

At last I was able to get the full story; and, later on, I was able to speak to one of Uncle John's doctors.

The news was not good, and we are all so sad and shocked by it.

Uncle John has cancer of the bile duct; it is also in his liver. The drain he had had inserted was to make him more comfortable, and the Doctor told me the plan was to insert another stent internally. However, this would be purely palliative; the operation was scheduled for Wednesday.

He explained that sadly, because of the nature of this illness, it is not until clear symptoms present themselves that the diagnosis is made; this is the reason it is usually caught late.

I asked, "Does Uncle John know?"

"Yes, he knows."

We agreed I would ring again on Thursday at 10.00 a.m. Brisbane time, so that he could update me. The Doctor was so sympathetic, and he also realised it meant us ringing him at gone midnight UK time; I said, "Don't worry about that! I am an owl!"

I asked, "If it's possible, could you please give him a hug from us, and give Uncle John all our love?"

"I'm sure that can be managed," he said.

The next 48 hours found all of us really anxious; it's horrible being so far away, and wanting to ring back earlier and see how Uncle John was doing, but I kept my impatience in check.

In the meantime, Wendy started to investigate flights, accommodation in Brisbane, car hire, etc., which kept us occupied; we had a choice of leaving at the at the weekend, and getting to Brisbane on Monday, 25 March, or waiting until 28 March, which would mean arriving on the Saturday.

It was a relief to ring the hospital again on Wednesday at midnight; I was put through to another doctor, who was also looking after Uncle John.

He had got through the operation very well, and the plan now is that he will be discharged from Princess Alexandra at the weekend; there was a palliative care team meeting scheduled for later in the day, to see what the next step would be. I asked if Uncle John might be going to stay with his son, and the Doctor paused for a moment, and then said, soon Uncle John would need a lot of care. From that I understood he might go straight to some sort of home. I remember Aunt Marguerite was in Logan Hospital for some time, until she died in 2003.

I said Wendy and I would fly to Brisbane in the next day or so, and were trying to decide when to book the flights; and then I asked the $64,000 question:

"I know it's crystal-ball gazing... but do you have any idea of how much time Uncle John might have?"

"A month?" the Doctor said.

"So - it will be better to leave this Saturday, and arrive on Monday?"

"Yes."

"We're hiring a car. If he is well enough, might it be possible to take Uncle John out for little trips, say, to Forest Lake? Of course we'll check with his health team....?"

"Yes, that should be alright at the moment."

The message was clear; we had to get going as soon as possible. Wendy was listening to the conversation, and got started straight away on organising my visa, the flights, accommodation, car hire, parking... Wendy is so experienced, she achieved it all overnight and now, on Friday, we are all prepared and ready to go first thing tomorrow morning.

I have also been gently talking to Mum, introducing the seriousness of Uncle John's illness. Now came the time to tell her, because he is so ill, Wendy and I are going to see him for one last time.

Mum's immediate reaction was, "Can I come, too? I'd like to see him, too."

"Ma, Uncle John would love to see you - but it is such a long way, and you can't really walk now, so it would be very difficult to arrange it."

Somewhere in her head, Mum has still got the ability to understand that some things are impossible.

I said, "We'll take lots of photos out to him, and we'll talk on the phone; Wendy's got that wonderful television telephone, (Skype!) so you will be able to see him as well!" and that satisfied Mum.

It's been a bit of a drama organising care for Mum, but the support we've received over the past few days, has been quite overwhelming. Wendy and I can be away for a week or so, knowing all will be well at home.