
We had been expecting to admit our patient for a number of days. In the past week she had been troubled by bad pain in her back. We knew that the cancer had spread there already. It hurt her to walk, and she had peed her pants on the way to the toilet. She could not make it in time because the pain of walking held her up.
On admission some medications were changed and by the next morning, they had worked really well. She had slept well for the first time all week, her pain was well controlled, and she was happy to be away from home. Home was full of family, and it was hectic, three generations of family living in the same household, with up to 20 people around her at any time. It was easy to get lost in her own home. She appreciated the opportunity to rest.
Everything we told her was written in her notebook, she wrote down the conversations we had, the medication changes we had made. The notebook was where she made her plans, for everything. She knew that she was unwell, and had already taken it upon herself to plan her funeral. She had always done things differently in her life, and that was not going to change after death. She was planning to break from her usual cultural traditions, and was planning an European style funeral. She would not be going to the traditional place of mourning of her people. She was going to do things in her own way. We talked about Frank Sinatra’s song “My Way.” She jotted it down as something that she wanted to play at her funeral.
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