Words from a funeral
July 4, 2016:
GOOD morning everybody. Welcome to Anna’s funeral, her farewell. Standing here this morning I am certain of one thing, Anna would love to have been here. She would have loved to have a chat with each of you. Anna would have hugged you and wished you good luck for the future.
We had planned a pre-wake Wake, where everybody would be invited to say goodbye to her – while she was still alive. Sadly, Anna and I ran out of time.
Just two weeks ago, Anna was enjoying coffee and cake and a seaside stroll at Kirra. It was then we – Anna and I – had our first inkling that something was wrong. At one point the pain across her body was so bad Anna suggested going to the hospital. By the time we got back to the car, the pain had eased and she changed her mind.
We went to the hospital the next day, she was admitted. For the first five days Anna fought on. Then her body gradually began to give up the fight. Her mind battled on – just minutes before died, Anna’s eyes were still moving – she was still processing thoughts and dreams.
And then – at 6.35pm – cancer finally overcame Anna and she died.
As most people know, a priest had given Anna the Last Rites that morning. We – her family – got to thank her and to say farewell. It was emotional.
Anna’s final hours – which I am sure registered in her brain – were filled with joy and laughter. Just as she would have wanted.
Conal Healy, Grief survivor
Then began The Final Wait.
It would be respectful to say we sat in respectful silence, but we didn’t. We drank coffee, ate pies and cakes, started telling jokes. Telling bad jokes. We joked with Anna. We did a giant crossword collectively, encouraging Anna to give us an answer. We stroked her arm. We held her hand. And we laughed.
I’m sure we laughed too long and too loud. I imagine many people thought there was a party in Anna’s room. And there was. Anna’s final hours – which I am sure registered in her brain – were filled with joy and laughter. Just as she would have wanted.
***
Anna’s battle with cancer began in April 2014 when they found cancer growing in her lung. It was a nasty one. A killer. Those were the days when we cried and hugged each other tightly – we were both afraid of what was to come.
Anna’s first day at the Tweed Hospital chemo clinic set the tone for the next three years. As the toxic medicine flowed into her arm, Anna and I ate cake, drank coffee, played cards and took photos. Anna joked with the nursing staff … and asked for more cake.
In that chemo clinic most patients were happy to sit, read a book, or do a crossword puzzle.
Not Anna. Anna would get bored and wander around the room – talking to people. She would get them talking … sit down and have a chat. It was part of the therapy.
After three hours (sometimes six hours) of chemo, Anna would hop in the car and drive herself to her radiotherapy appointment at John Flynn Hospital and then come home.
My job? To provide Anna with a nice cup of tea, a warm blanket and a hot water bottle when she arrived home. (Oh, and cook dinner too.)
Anna rarely stopped. She got the chemo clinic to delay treatment, so she could go whale watching (with her sister-in-law). Anna got the radiotherapy clinic to hold an appointment – so she could go fly over the Tweed Valley in a glider.
We were happy when Anna went into remission later that year.
***
Anna faced breast cancer last year with similar courage. She tackled the surgery and radiotherapy, knowing the dangers she faced. After her final appointment, Anna came home and planted seeds for flowers that would grow the following spring. Where there is life, there is hope.
***
In January (2016), Anna collapsed at home. It was Australia Day. CT scans at the Tweed Hospital revealed two golf-ball sized tumors growing in Anna’s brain. She had lost control to her leg and arm. The doctors said: “She has days to live. Not weeks”. The medicos at the Gold Coast University Hospital agreed. Their colleagues at the Tweed Cancer Clinic agreed. There was no point doing chemo, radiotherapy or surgery. Anna was terminal.
Being honest, the bottom dropped out of world when I heard this news. I had to break the news to our families, Anna was a goner.
A junior doctor told me: “The scans look terrible. The only thing keeping her alive is her spirit”.
We prepared for the worst. We told Anna many times, and in many ways, that her days with us were nearly over. The forms were filled out to transfer Anna to a nearby hospice – it was only a matter of time.
***
As I remarked at the time, Anna didn’t get that memo. Almost 10 days of brain steroids were having an effect. Anna was sitting up, talking, chatting to people, eating pizza and ordering Thai takeaway. Three days later and the doctors realized Anna wasn’t going to die. They provided radiotherapy and Anna started to recover. In fact, she recovered enough to be sent home.
The day Anna learned to stand on her own two feet was the day she graduated from Southern Cross University with her teaching degree. She arrived in a wheelchair, but found the strength to stand for the ceremony. It was one of the proudest moments of her life.
Anna was a mature aged student when she started her degree – she hadn’t been inside a classroom in almost two decades. She had her job as a Lolly Pop Lady at a local school and was also raising two children. What few people know is that Anna was dyslexic. She suffered from bi-polar depression, endured and was a diabetic.
Yet Anna managed to overcome all these hurdles (and many, many more) in her fight for the teaching degree. Anna’s plan was to become a “special needs” teacher. Being dyslexic herself, gave Anna an insight to the role. Despite everything she had been through, Anna was still determined to get better – to regain her full health. Sadly, it was not to be. Cancer had other plans for her.
***
On June 19, Anna started to lose mobility, then the pains began. By June 23 she was admitted to Tweed Hospital where Anna died peacefully a week later, surrounded by family and friends in a room full of laughter.
***
Anna was brave, courageous, determined and stubborn. Sometimes, she was very stubborn indeed. She has been described as a force of nature. She tended to speak first, and think later. If you had a problem with Anna, well that tended to be YOUR problem … not hers.
Inside Anna was different: She was a kind, loving mother, an artist, a photographer, but Anna was also somebody who questioned herself. She was a person who lacked self-confidence. She didn’t believe in herself.
Anna talked about her magical Work Hat – as soon as she put on her RMS uniform she became a different woman. She became a Superwoman – and God help anybody who came between her and any of the children who used her school crossing at the primary school.
***
Thank you, Anna for those final 150 days. Thank you, Anna for the last 39 years. That was many things, but never boring. Farewell my love. Travel well until we meet again.
Anna died on June 28, 2016, at 6.35pm.
