By Taido
It was meant to be a scheduled Monday afternoon home visit to see ML, a lady in her late 30s with terminal breast cancer that had spread to the brain, lungs, liver and bones. In hindsight, the first sign of something odd appeared when I saw her foreign domestic helper standing by the ground floor lift lobby – she looked excited but as with many foreign helpers, she was at the same time polite and smiling. “I see ambulance,” she said rather apologetically. I didn’t get what she meant, so I said I will see ML first and proceeded up the lift.
When I reached the apartment, the gate and door were left wide opened. Now I sensed something was amiss. As I entered the living room, I found ML’s boyfriend, Steve, leaning over ML’s lifeless body on the sofa, frantically doing chest compressions. In between sobs, he explained: “She just threw a seizure and then stopped breathing!”. He had been trying to revive her for more than half an hour. The ambulance service was also activated and the helper had been directed to guide the medics to the apartment.
I entreated Steve to stop the chest compression so that I can examine her. She had died, I said to him after that. “Can’t you do anything?” he pleaded.
I repeated that she had already died. “No…!”, he wailed. “She was still well over the weekend… she only had a few small seizures.”
He related how ML asked to go to the town centre on Sunday. She bought gifts for her friends and soft toy for herself. She even had her hair dyed and styled at the saloon. In the evening, they had a good meal. She seemed happy and well.
By this time, the ambulance medics had arrived. We stood aside as they needed to examine her. I was quite thankful for their timely appearance, as it provided a much needed lull, at least for me to think about what had just happened.
Confirming that ML had died, and hearing that I will certify the death, the ambulance team left.
“What shall I tell her mother?” Steve cried, clutching his head in anguish.
ML stayed with her mother and a helper in this apartment, and Steve had moved in to care for her when she was ill. Her mother had gone to work and was still not aware that ML had died. After discussing with Steve, we felt it might be useful to get ML’s sister, who stayed close by, to fetch mother from her workplace. We decided it was best that she was alerted about a change in ML’s condition but to let her know about what really happened before she stepped into the apartment.
By now Steve was somewhat more settled, and I had also caught up with my thoughts.
“Did ML hint that she might die so soon?” I was curious if the events on Sunday might not be so coincidental after all.
“Actually, she was saying about ‘going soon’ since Friday,” Steve admitted. “But I told her not to talk like that.” I nodded, understanding that it had not been easy for him.
I looked at ML’s body. In the aftermath, her hair was dishevelled, clothes were yanked out of place, the torso and limbs were unnaturally positioned, and the abdominal drain stuck out like a brazen symbol of her illness. The chaotic mess around the sofa completed the scene of recent devastation.
“Let’s clean up before mother comes. I don’t think ML wanted to look like this.”
I asked the helper for a hair brush and some towels. Together with Steve and her helper, we combed the recently coloured hair in place, straightened her clothes, body and limbs, removed the abdominal drain and wiped away any stains. We pulled a clean blanket over her body. At the end, she looked like she was just napping on the sofa.
And then, we waited for mother and sister to arrive.
Ending Notes
The modern narrative on the end of life is often crowded and even fore-grounded by a profusion of medical details — of distressing symptoms, unrelenting diseases, futility and hopelessness. But the end of life is never merely a medical event; it is a human experience that reaffirms the inescapable human condition and what it means to really live, if only we choose to turn towards it. “Ending Notes” is a series of anecdotes depicting these human experiences, from which may be aspects that moves, inspires or edifies us about life. While the stories are based on true events, the characters and background have been fictionalised, so that any resemblance to real person(s) is purely coincidental and perhaps reflect how we can as easily identify with the human conditions portrayed.
Taido
Taido is a Family Physician with an interest in end-of-life care.
