Blog No. 232 - A Resurrection Story – Dying the Hard Way, Part 3 - 23 April 2025

Margaret in January 2023, before her final approach to death.  The T-shirt says “I am a Nurse; I stab people and I know things”.

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Blog 231 finished with extracts from my diary entries for Tuesday 4 July 2023.  This Blog continues my diary entries from the point where Blog 231 finished.  

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Wednesday 5 July 2023 Blog 231’s diary entry finishes this way. [I bring a kitchen chair and place it next to her so we can be close and I can make sure she is safe.  Her eyes have black circles around them – as if someone has hit her on the eyes.  I presume it is grim weariness but wonder if it is a sign of an acceleration in her departure from this life.  She struggles to her feet and starts her evening pill parade.  Dr Saunderson has recommended a combination of pain killers plus sleeping pills.  Margaret opts for soluble Panadol and I put two into a glass while she has other medications.  She finds it hard to swallow now.] **** The diary entry for 5 July 2023 continues. I alternate between the state of tranquillity I can get by focusing on the small practical tasks that need to be done and lapsing back into yet another episode of the deep blues.  I love her; I always have.  She will be dead within days at the outside – and there is nothing at all I can do except try and keep her safe and ease her pain.  I feel like shit as I type this entry.  It is 9.38 pm.  In twenty minutes, I can start the going to bed process.  I desperately hope the sleeping pills work.  I have not tried to walk, do yoga or meditate today.  This has been physically very hard and very dispiriting. I get Margaret into bed at 10.15 pm, the earliest time in weeks.  She is asleep immediately. Thursday 6 July 2023 Margaret is moving restlessly in bed at 12.50 am on Thursday 6 July.  I get up and ask her what is the problem.  She is utterly confused and makes no sense.  She has never been like this before.  At various moments, she realises she is confused.  I get her to the toilet to try for a pee but nothing comes.  Very carefully, I get her back into bed.  She is asleep immediately.  It is 1.40 am now. When her breathing tells me she is asleep, I turn off the lamp and go to sleep. Margaret wakes me again at 4.51.  She has swung her legs out of bed but is not awake.  I carefully get her legs back into bed.  She has no awareness of what has happened and is immediately asleep again but without her head on the pillow.  I lie in bed until 5.25 listening to her with the lamp on and then I get up.   I feel this is very close to the end of Margaret’s very long cancer journey.  I get dressed and ring Maurine asking her to come.  She says she will.  Margaret is unaware of my movements or of the fact that I have got up.  She has never been like this in our 25 years together.  It is 5.58 am as I type these words. Maurine arrives at 6.15; Margaret is still in bed and still breathing.  I talk to Maurine until 7.30, when a miracle happens.  Margaret calls me from the bedroom.  She is groggy but wants to get up so I help her make it happen.  Margaret and Murine discuss what might have been the cause of Margaret’s behaviour during the night.  It may have been the result of the impact of the Oxazepam on her system, even though she has had this drug before without ill effects.  Maurine leaves at 8.30. This morning, the district nurse is Michelle.  She too is lovely. Dr Bishnoi rings at 12.15 pm.  Margaret tells him her health has deteriorated and she wants him to trigger Palliative Care.  He will get that process started but warns it may be Monday 10 July before we hear from Palliative Care.  I nap for an hour from 1.00 pm while Margaret is on the phone getting quotes for our contents’ insurance.  What an amazing woman; she refuses to give in to the disease and renews out insurance for $210.00 less that the renewal notice – with a different company. It has been bitter cold today and raining heavily for most of the day.  I pull a quiche out of the freezer for dinner.  I have just realised that the hissing of the universe has stopped; it has been missing all day.  I feel I am falling apart, but I must keep going while she needs me.  This is so very, very hard.  No exercise (walking or yoga) and no meditation today; same thing yesterday. Marg falls asleep as we try and watch tv. She cannot sit in the sofa but can sit in a kitchen chair.  As exhaustion conquers her, her head slumps forward and she is in danger of falling.  I sit in a separate chair beside her.  I love her and I am losing her.  I must keep going. I persuade Margaret we should go to bed at 10.50 and I get her into bed by 11.15 pm.  Tonight she has taken two Panadol for pain plus one Oxazepam to help her sleep.

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Margaret’s sister Maurine cancelled me and refused to have any further contact with me after I cooked dinner for the Redden family on 23 November 2023.  Someone – I believe it was Margaret’s brother Jim – stole the more valuable items (approximate value $40,000 to $55,000) of Margaret’s jewellery in the evening of 23 November 2023.

Blog No. 231 - A Resurrection Story – Dying the Hard Way, Part 2 - 22 April 2025

Blog 230 finished with extracts from my diary entries for Tuesday, 4th of July 2023.  This Blog continues my diary entries from the point where Blog 230 finished.  

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Tuesday 4 July 2023 Blog 230’s diary entry finishes this way. [We are both faced by an impossible situation and we both have to make impossible decisions.  There is no “correct” decision; we can only do the best we can in the circumstances.  My sole wish is to do what I can to ensure her welfare.  She says she sees the exhaustion in my face and wants to try and minimise it.  I say that her staying up instead of coming back to bed is definitely not the best answer to my exhaustion or hers.] **** The diary entry for the 4th of July 2023 continues. **** Margaret is due to ring Dr Bishnoi later today.  We list the things that she needs to tell him. Diarrhoea is still present even though Prednisolone restarted on Friday 30 June.  Inability to eat, very cold hands, extreme lack of balance and worsening in the balance issues; increasing pain levels.  It is 11.37 am as I type these words. Marg goes for a nap at 2.40 and I go for my walk.  Marg has given me her phone so that I can answer if Dr Bishnoi rings while she is asleep.  I get back from the walk at 3.50 and Dr Bishnoi rings five minutes later.  I tell him what has been happening and ask if there are any medication changes he has to recommend.  There are none.  I ask if there is anything I can do that might help Margaret a little more.  There is nothing.  Dr Bishnoi says that perhaps it is time to think about asking Palliative Care to become involved, but stresses he cannot act on this unless Margaret specifically agrees.  I am to discuss with Margaret and he will ring back between 10.00 and 11.00 on Thursday 6 July. Margaret wakes at 5.10 and I tell her about the call from Dr Bishnoi.  She immediately accepts that it is time for Palliative Care.  She accepts without fear, what is to come.  She walks straight towards her final gate without any twinge of fear.  She tells her sister Maurine and brother Jim.  I feel vastly relieved.  Margaret takes all of this in with great calmness.  She has been expecting it, but says it is unusual for this to happen when the cancer itself is still in remission.  She knows her body is getting weaker all the time.  We discuss administrative things that we ought to do while she is still alive.  I cancel my yoga class scheduled for tomorrow.  We watch tv and she keeps falling asleep.  She is ready for bed and it is 10.20 pm. It is 11.10 pm before we get to bed.  Marg has devised a plan to try and help us get a little more sleep.  She takes ½ an Oxycodone with 2 Panadols and I bring the Oxycodone into the bedroom to place it next to Margaret’s bedside lamp.  When she wakes up, she plans to take a full Oxycodone without getting out of bed.  Hopefully, this will send her straight back to sleep. Wednesday 5 July 2023 Margaret wakes at 1.55 am on Wednesday 5 July.  She stays in bed and takes the Oxycodone.  I remove the sleeve bandaging from around her legs; they are hurting a lot.  We both curl up hoping sleep will take us – but it doesn’t happen.  Margaret is in so much pain from the bandages and her legs that while under the sheets, she wrestles the bandages off.  I realise what is happening and get up to help her get rid of the bandages.  I replace them with simple wrap around bandages and we both curl up once again trying to sleep.  By 3.10 am it is clear that Margaret cannot sleep so I turn on the light and help her get out of bed.  Our sleep for the night has finished.  She is extremely frail as I help her use the walker to go down the passageway to the living room.  Fortunately, the papers have already arrived.  I give Margaret one of the papers and make breakfast.  I start eating breakfast at about 4.00 am.  Margaret keeps slumping down asleep with her head on the table.  Eventually, we both nap for an hour at about 5.30 – she at the table and me on the sofa. The nurse (Christine) arrives at 9.35 and she is lovely and concerned that Margaret’s legs may have again developed an infection.  Christine rings our GP clinic but the GP is not there yet.  I send photos of Margaret’s legs to the clinic and the clinic staff promise to bring them to the attention of the GP as soon as possible.  Nurse Christine leaves at 10.30 and I have a shower. My chores this morning are to deliver documents to the accountants and get yet more prescriptions filled.  It is 12.15 pm before I return home.  Margaret has heard nothing from the GP.  It is 1.45 as I write these words.  I am so exhausted that it is as though I am in a trance or a dream.  The tiredness in my body has ceased to mean anything to me.  While I am needed, I have the ability to keep going.  The hissing is still present, but it has lowered in volume Marg goes to bed for a nap at 2.10.  We have still heard nothing from the GP.  I ring the GP clinic at 3.20 and book a phone consultation with Margaret at 4.35 pm today.  I will wake her if necessary. I wake Margaret up at 4.10 for the phone consultation.  GP Saunderson rings at 4.40 and prescribes some sleeping pills plus anti nausea; he is lovely.  Because Margaret does not have a smartphone, I have to go to the surgery in peak hour traffic to pick up the prescriptions.  I get there and pick up the scripts and get them filled in the pharmacy.  I am home by 5.40 pm.  I cook dinner but Marg eats very little; her appetite is deserting her.  I help Margaret to the toilet for her bowels. defecating causes extreme pain in her back.  As we try to watch tv that evening, she keeps slumping into sleep in the chair; she cannot sit in the sofa because her back is such a mess.

Blog No. 230 - A Resurrection Story – Margaret Died the Hard Way, Part 1 - 21 April 2025

 

On Easter Sunday, Christians celebrate the resurrection of Christ from the dead on the first Easter Sunday nearly 2,000 years ago.  

Before he could rise from death and overcome it, Christ had to die and his death was gruesome and filled with pain.

I am not yet dead, but my wife Margaret is definitely dead.  I am still attempting my personal resurrection and new life after the agonising death of the one person whose life mattered more to me than anyone else in the Universe.

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Margaret was in so much pain that she was afraid to come to bed.  I often found her slumped fast asleep with her head on the table – exhaustion overcoming her pain.  In those last dreadful weeks at home, her sleep only took place when the pain could no longer keep her awake.

The word exhaustion does not come close to describing the tiredness that saturated every cell of our beings.  I so much wanted to take her pain off her, but I was not allowed.

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I made daily diary entries in the months leading up to Margaret’s death.

Before today, I have not had the courage to look at what I wrote in those terrible months leading up to her death.

As part of the Easter resurrection miracle, I have forced myself to look at what I wrote while Margaret was dying and I have decided to publish my diary entries as Blogs on the Hankin Redden website.

Here are some words of caution.

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I totally loved my wife and the process leading up to her death was incredibly hard for both of us to endure.  My main issue was always that the wrong person was dying.  Why was Margaret dying when the Universe knew without a shadow of a doubt that I wanted to take her place?  I wanted to have Margaret’s suffering transferred to me so that she did not have to endure it any longer.  But this was the one thing the Universe would not let me have.

These diary entries are filled with the pain endured by Margaret and by me as I impossibly tried to minimise her pain.

If you cannot stomach descriptions of the pain felt by a truly wonderful woman while she died, you should not read these Blogs.

If you cannot stomach descriptions of the pain endured by me while I watched Margaret die, you should not read these Blogs.

If you cannot stomach my stories of the vile Cancer Ghosting that Margaret and I had to endure, in the period leading up to her death and after, you should not read these Blogs.

If you cannot endure my depiction of Margaret’s miracle cure from cancer being washed away before your very eyes – as I most definitely did – you should not read these Blogs.

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My diary entries date back to long before late evening on Monday 3 July 2023, but that is where I will start these Blogs.

Margaret died at 3.16 am on Tuesday 22 August 2023.

I watched her die in the Intensive Care unit.

Margaret did not die as a direct result of her cancer - the cancer had vanished weeks before she died.

Margaret died from a urinary infection.

Dr Bhandari, the caring and competent doctor who looked after Margaret at Mary Potter Hospice, told me her death was a Sick Cosmic Joke.

I think Dr Bhandari was correct.

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Monday 3 July 2023 I suggest going to bed at 9.50 pm but it is 11.00 before we get there. Tuesday 4 July 2023 The bedside clock says 1.57 am on Tuesday 4 July when I hear Margaret call my name from a far, far away place.  I struggle back into semi wakefulness.  Marg says she needs to go to the toilet, then she will have a cigarette in the sitting room and return to bed.  By 2.30 we are in the living room and she has finished her cigarette and announces that she is not returning to bed.  If she goes back to bed, she will have to wake me up again so she can return to the bathroom.  I protest that her body is beyond the point of exhaustion, it will not be safe for her to stay up and that if she stays up, I will have to stay up too.  She is adamant; she will not return to bed, but insists that I must return to bed.  I am equally adamant.  If she is up, I need to be up.  It is unsafe for her to be awake and alone.  I get an outburst about how I am trying to make decisions about her treatment on her behalf instead of letting her make her own decisions.  I should butt out of making decisions about her health and let her make her own decisions.  In my exhaustion and frustration, I say “I am going to bed; good luck.  Try not to have a fall”.  I lie in bed wondering what I have done but fall asleep before I can follow up the question in my mind. I wake up at 6.40 am as Margaret uses the bathroom.  The diarrhoea is still present, although Marg says the severity has reduced. The district nurse this morning is Barbara.  She says she remembers Margaret from when Margaret was a cancer nurse at Flinders Medical Centre.  The bandages on the legs are not saturated this morning and the legs look as if they are trying to heal.  Despite this, Margaret’s movements are slow and full of pain.  She cannot move without the walker and my offers of assistance are always accepted. When Barbara has gone, we talk about our argument.  Margaret says she gets upset when I answer questions on her behalf when they are asked by the district nurse or by a doctor.  I say my only wish is to give information that is as full and detailed as possible.  Margaret tends to understate the extent of her symptoms.  This worries me because I am afraid it will result in her receiving treatments and medications that are less extensive and effective than would happen if the full extent of her symptoms is made known.  I say I will continue to tell the complete truth if this is what I have to do to ensure she gets the best treatment available – even if this means I get a tongue lashing from Margaret. I tell Margaret that I am desperately concerned about the deterioration in her health.  I vastly prefer that I be woken up multiple times so long as this means she gets a little more sleep.  I say I am so very worried about more falls because they will do even more dreadful damage.  Please come back to bed and get as much sleep as possible.  I do not mind at all if this means I get woken up. We are both faced by an impossible situation and we both have to make impossible decisions.  There is no “correct” decision; we can only do the best we can in the circumstances.  My sole wish is to do what I can to ensure her welfare.  She says she sees the exhaustion in my face and wants to try and minimise it.  I say that her staying up instead of coming back to bed is definitely not the best answer to my exhaustion or hers.

Blog No. 229 A Resurrection Story – To die or Not to Die - 20 April 2025

Easter Sunday celebrates the resurrection of Christ from the dead on the first Easter Sunday nearly 2,000 years ago.  Although his story is not quite as spectacular as that very first resurrection, my friend Dave has his own completely true resurrection story – and it too is spectacular.  Dave has given permission for me to share his story on this 2025 Easter Sunday.  I have not altered Dave’s wording in any way.

I repeat that this resurrection story is completely true.

To Die or Not to Die - A Resurrection Story - They say your life flashes in front of you just before you die. I suppose an hour of my life was spent this way. I had finished my work for the day, so I got changed, and was ready to cycle home, followed by another quick change into workout gear to drive to boxing training.  That’s when this uneasy feeling came over my whole body and mind. I knew that this was my time to meet my maker as the saying goes.  So, I cycled home, all 15kms, put my bike in the garage, went indoors and got changed for boxing. That’s when I realised, I had an important decision to make as there was only 20 minutes left before I would die. Yes, I can be that accurate. So, my choice was stay at home and die on my own not being found for a couple of weeks, or I could drive to boxing and die surrounded by people. Decision made - I would go to boxing – and a 10 minute drive turned into a traffic nightmare. 20 minutes later I was still only halfway to boxing. Then the Road Traffic Accident happened and I wrote off my car.  I parked my car into a tree while travelling at 60 kilometres per hour when I blacked out. For some reason I walked away uninjured from the crashed vehicle.  The off-duty Paramedic following me was amazed by this and explained what he had seen when I had blacked out at the wheel.  He had called for all 3 of the emergency services, who were all amazed I was uninjured, given that the vehicle was a Total Write-Off.  I went in the Ambulance and started talking to the Paramedic regarding symptoms and what had happened just prior to crash, i.e. Blacking Out. Then the real battle of Live or Die began.  My heart stopped and I had to be Resuscitated by using a Defibrillator.  I only remember the 1st resuscitation but apparently I had 3 in total from the crash site to the hospital.  The next 3 hours are vague for me, because I kept drifting in and out of consciousness, but the details got filled in later by the A&E Doctor and the Paramedic who treated me on route to the hospital. Whilst in A & E, I experienced the out of body looking down at myself syndrome. This happened numerous times. I would float above my body trying to leave this world, then they would Resuscitate me by using the Defibrillator and I would return to my body. As for the other parts of Emergency Medical Team protocols during those 3 hours, I have No Memory. Apparently, this happened 12 times, and the A & E Doctor described it as a battle of 2 Minds and Souls, one wanted to die and the other wanted to live. After 3 hours I regained full consciousness and that’s when the full story unfolded. The off-duty Paramedic had apparently watched me drive from the blackout point which I remember as approximately 600 metres further up the road from the crash site. He stated that I was apparently driving normally in the outside lane, then moved across into the nearside lane, having indicated my intention, then I picked a dropped kerb driveway entrance to drive past the first big tree, then I took out a Stobie Pole and (finally) parked my car into the second big tree. I ended up parallel parked with driver side wheels against the kerbstone not blocking either of the two lanes of traffic.  I awoke to a face full of Airbag. 2 weeks later whilst she was at work, I happened to meet by chance, the on-duty Paramedic who looked after me in the ambulance. When I described who I was and how she treated me at the scene of the vehicle accident, her face was a picture when she realised how quick a recovery I had made. She explained the double heartbeat printout of which she had kept a copy due to my unusual heartbeat patterns on the ECG Monitor. I explained that thanks to her, I am now fitted with a Pacemaker. She knew the Off-duty Paramedic and said she would pass on my Gratitude plus Thanks for what he did, as well as give him the update regarding the Pacemaker. I was kept in hospital for 2 weeks while they figured out what caused the heart malfunction etc. Eventually they diagnosed me with Bradycardia (slow resting heart rate); mine was in the low 40’s. I was then fitted with a Pacemaker and after a 6 weeks recovery period, I returned to work and continued my cycling plus all of my other fitness training regimes.

Blog No. 228 - Camino Soul Songs Part 31, 17 April 2025

On Monday the 13th of May 2013, Harold and I attended Mass at the Cathedral in Santiago and I then got a taxi to the airport and flew from Santiago to Dublin, where I was once again reunited with Margaret.  My Camino pilgrimage had come to an end.

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The Cathedral in Santiago de Compostela.   I took this photo in August 2009 when I first walked part of the Camino.  The steps were huge and they were packed with people.

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The enormous city square on which the Cathedral and the Hotel Paradore are located.  I took this photo in 2009.  The buskers played beautiful music and the sun was shining brightly.  Appropriately, the buskers played Ave maria as I arrived in the square in 2009.

In August 2009, the square in Santiago was packed with peregrinos.  This photo gives an idea of just how many peregrinos in Santiago in the middle of the European summer.

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This photo shows the front of the Hotel Paradore on the Santiago city square.  Harold and I stayed one night in the Paradore after Harold negotiated for a better deal on price.

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Harold and I attended Mass in the Cathedral on the morning of Tuesday, 14th of May 2013.  We were very fortunate.  Someone had paid the Cathedral authorities the necessary fee to ensure the giant incense burner was used.  This photo shows the censer at floor level with the incense steaming out of it. 

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This photo shows the censer hoisted high above floor level in the Cathedral.  It was then swung by ropes in huge arcs above the people in the Cathedral with incense pouring out of it.  It was a magnificent spectacle and I was glad I was able to see it.

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I took this photo as the censer swung lower to the floor.  

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Diary Entry Made on Tuesday 14 May 2013 at 1:57 pm

I am writing this at Santiago airport and I attended the Pilgrim Mass in the cathedral at 12:00 noon today.  I got there just after 11:00 am to get an aisle seat in the transept.  The transept is where the giant incense burner (the censer) swings in huge arcs.  Today I was in luck.  Some group had made a "donation" so the incense burning did take place at the end of the Mass.

The cathedral was like a giant market place.  Tour groups wandered through behind signs reading "1" or "2" etcetera.  Other groups of people - tourists, pilgrims, and perhaps worshippers - constantly wandered into and around the cathedral.

The cathedral itself is vast, cold and full of echoes - a giant statement of raw, unabashed power.  The Mass was in Spanish and I understood nothing.  There was also a sermon in Spanish.  Six priests dressed in wonderful red robes conducted the Mass.  In addition, there was a nun who sang beautifully and many other functionaries, including those performed the incense ceremony at the end of the Mass.

The incense burner is very large and it swung in huge elongated arcs across the transept.  The swings took it very high up, nearly but not quite horizontal to the cathedral floor.  The censer was swung on a very thick rope rolled over a pulley high in the cathedral roof.

The whole incense ceremony was a wonderful spectacle.

Even during the course of the Mass there was constant movement as people kept entering, leaving and moving around the cathedral.  Even if I had had knowledge of Spanish, it would have been difficult to understand what was happening - both because of the constant movement and because of the unceasing echoes.

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Soul Song Number 36 - Sanctified

(14 May 2013)

This was the Pilgrim Mass,

I was sitting on a hard church pew inside a huge cathedral.

One that was cold and populated not just by people but also by noisy echoes.

The cathedral was a marketplace.

Tour groups dribbled behind numbers written on placards held aloft by tour guides.

Number 9 one placard proclaimed.

The paying customers of Placard Number 9 jostled for space with other paying customers,

The ones who were dribbling behind Placard Number 10.

Sprinkled among the tourists were cathedral staff,

Trying to create a pretence of order in the melee.

They spoke their instruction by rote.

"No camera flashes are permitted inside the cathedral."

"You can't sit here, these seats are reserved."

"You can't leave your backpack in the aisle."

Pilgrims streamed steadily into the cathedral.

This was their day and this was their Mass.

They were here for the daily Pilgrim Mass,

The one that happens every day at 12:00 noon.

For some of the residents of Santiago, this cathedral was their local church.

Some of them were present trying to worship God.

They needed deep faith to ignore the din that echoed around them.

Tour groups, pilgrims, worshippers, cathedral staff and clergy,

They all jostled for space.

This might have been a place for worship,

But it was also a place to conduct business.

Even when the Pilgrim Mass started,

The jostling continued at the sides.

People came in.

People left.

People simply wandered around.

While all this happened, the six red robed priests recited the Mass.

The Mass was in Spanish.

That was fine if you spoke Spanish.

Of course, the Mass should have been in Spanish.

This was a Spanish cathedral.

The sermon was also in Spanish.

So I understood none of the words of wisdom.

With the Mass finished, the incense censer was swung.

Using huge, leaping arcs, it swung across the cathedral,

Trailing sacred smoke as it went,

Inducing euphoria and expelling evil.

Because this cathedral houses the bones of The Saint,

The crowd was entitled to a spectacle

And the crowd was given its spectacle.

Yet amid the echoing confusion,

Something struggled to express itself.

What was it?

Was it an attempt to listen to and to be aware of the divine?

Yes it was surely there,

Even if at times it seemed to be drowned by the background noise.

Mass completed, I said some hasty farewells.

Then I bundled myself into a taxi.

My destination?

The airport.

Are I a better human being because I have walked The Camino?

Like The Saint, have I been sanctified?

I have no idea.

I will need to think about that later.

Right now, I have a plane to catch.

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My Pilgrim Passport showing the final page of stamps.