I Can't Forget to Turn the Earth

Tuesday brought with it a beautiful, clear, blue sky and a bright-yellow August sun. We found ourselves on our beloved porch again, but there were many things that distinguished this trip from our prior visit just two days before.

Megan’s strength was deteriorating rapidly. We had taken our final last dance a day before. Megan now needed to be helped to a wheel chair to make the approximately 14-feet trip to the porch from the hospice bed in our living room. Once there, I stood behind her and caressed her head, as I steadied her now-weak neck, so that she could look ahead at our neighborhood and admire our porch.

Earlier today Megan’s feet began developing splotches of blue. I knew this meant her circulatory system was having trouble getting oxygen to all her extremities. We frantically massaged her feet in an effort to encourage blood flow and saw an improvement in skin color. Daisy later told us that the coloring was normal at this point in Megan’s care, and that our massage was actually not a good idea as it could ultimately result in the dislodging of a blood clot that could race through Megan’s body, and potentially cause an embolism. Fortunately this did not happen, but this was a difficult reminder of how severe Megan’s condition was, and that we needed to be mindful of so much and rely on the hospice assistance.

The Lactulose was now working. It was working too well. Megan’s deteriorating strength made this more difficult and ultimately this drug would prove to be an exercise in futility. Her cognitive ability only deterioated, and the expedition in bodily function ultimately contributed to distress in Megan’s last days. As we would roll, and reposition and clean Megan, each towel-stroke or touch began leaving bruises, no matter how gentle we tried to be. Megan’s body was shutting down.

As the sun shown down on us, the large contrast between this trip and our Hurricane Irene-break was apparent. There was no need for the warmth of Jennifer’s shawl under this 70 degree summer-like day. Instead, Megan and Jocelyn recreated a moment straight from their childhood as they lovingly shared a sugary ice-pop bite-by-bite. A debate about how best to handle the watery-syrup mix at the bottom ensued. Although Megan did not speak up to participate, I’m sure one of the sun-splashed smiles she showed was an approval in response to this banter and it’s conclusion.

At the outset of this porch trip, some co-workers of Megan’s arrived to visit. We helped Megan back inside and left her and her colleagues alone to speak. As I write this, I’m reminded of the last time Megan spoke to her boss prior to seeing him on this day.

Megan called Jeff from the hospital a day or two before we really understood what was happening. At this point there were still many reasons to hope and expect that Megan would exit the hospital and resume some semblance of normalcy, but she knew her time at work was numbered.

Megan described the state of the project she was working on. After disclosing the location of her source-code, notes and similar, pertinent details, Megan painfully reflected on her time on this project. She was clearly disappointed that she would not complete it, almost to the point of being apologetic.

Throughout her life, Megan had a natural desire to see everything to it’s end in the best possible way. She had a desire to succeed at the highest level with everything she did, and this battle was no different. Her first medical oncologist, Mr Wizard, described Megan as a ‘firecracker’ and said her ‘normal’ was about 120% of how the rest of the us are. Megan also described in this blog several times her desire to be at the "top-of-her-class" among the studies conducted by her most-recent (and adored) oncologist.

In the 1200+ days from her original diagnosis, I think this was the first time that Megan allowed herself to relinquish some significant bit of control of something to cancer. And even then she was still confident and unrelenting. As she spoke on the phone in the hospital room, she ended her call with Jeff saying that that she would log-in remotely and take care of some final tasks - just as soon as she could.

Megan never gave up.

Listen as she speaks to you

Everything Megan said had meaning. Sometimes we received fragments of her thoughts that allowed us to determine what she needed, such as a request of a beautiful song. Sometimes Megan spoke in complete, coherent, perfect requests.

On Sunday, after a break from Hurricane Irene, Megan wanted to go outside. It was still quite overcast and a little chilly, but the ninth of 2011’s named storms, and the first to reach hurricane status, was largely behind us, so out we went.

With help, Megan was still able to walk, and so we commenced on another of our favorite last dances, and together we went. Mom Lally and Jocelyn quickly navigated a chair to a nice spot on the porch and I helped Megan sit down. Wrapped in Jennifer’s beautiful hand-knit shawl, Megan sat on our favorite porch, that we had built with our own blood, sweat and tears just two summers before. We all enjoyed a few minutes of the post-storm calm. Although there was no sun to be seen, and there remained a periodic wind that would blow an occasional drop of rain onto Megan’s face, this was still a beautiful day.

Sometimes, Megan said things that we just didn’t understand. When she was speaking with one foot in the next world, to reuse Nancy’s phrase. We quickly decided that we would write these statements down in the hopes that as we shared notes or compared one statement to another from several hours before, some meaning might emerge, and we could be sure we were keeping Megan comfortable and as happy as possible.

Megan often spoke of a little girl. Sometimes this little girl beckoned her to come towards her. Sometimes the girl needed help. At least once, I learned that she had red hair. I wrote many other phrases down, but this was a recurring theme.

Daisy, our hospice nurse, later told us that many people in hospice care see children or relatives that had previously passed away. Megan had also talked about “going home”, and “making it to the next stage”, and Daisy let us know that this was also to be expected. Megan, she explained, was very much aware of what was happening to her and the road ahead.

It was now Monday, and Daisy thought that road could go on for a while. The Lasix and the Lactulose were only just starting and Megan was still physically strong. Our main focus needed to be keeping Megan comfortable, but she agreed that those drugs were worth continuing and there was still hope for the positive effects of those drugs that we so desired. She said she thought we were doing a good job, and that she would see us again on Wednesday. As she departed, Daisy reiterated that keeping Megan comfortable was the primary goal.

When Marlene, Megan’s massage therapist called up later that day and expressed her desire to visit, we agreed that nothing would make Megan more comfortable.

Armed with beautifully scented oils, her strong, yet delicate hands, and her huge heart, Marlene came to visit and was greeted by Megan with the hugest smile I had seen in quite some time. When Marlene asked Megan if she’d like a foot massage the smile grew and was accompanied by a resounding Yes.


For a few minutes, as Marlene gently massaged and lovingly soothed her feet, Megan was whisked off to her favorite spa for a lazy afternoon of pedicures, manicures and gossip with the girls (Mémère, Mom Lally and Jocelyn, no-doubt). When the massage was over, Marlene gave Megan a big hug and the spa trip was over, but I knew we were doing our best to be sure Megan was as comfortable as was possible.