#239 Just a moment

Janne texted me from the hospital: “They found something”. I cancelled work meetings and come by her side. Ultrasound, blood test, drink that nasty liquid, CT scan. Waiting. More blood tests, more ultrasounds. It’s just some cysts. More tests. A call from an oncologist: “You have liver cancer stage 4, need chemotherapy”. New hospital. Another oncologist: “Let’s identify the type of cancer”. More tests, another CT after that nasty drink. “It’s bile duct cancer.” Chemotherapy and cutting-edge immunotherapy (40% chance). Weakness. More tests. The tumor is big (9.5 cm). Chemo on Thursdays and weekends out recovering. Continuous worrying. We get a break: “the tumor is smaller”. Switch in chemo frequency. We celebrate. Last happy trip to Canary Islands. Pain in her legs. A couple of trips, but she can’t walk well. “You got a thrombosis”. “You have another one”. “And a third one in the lungs”. Losing weight. Back to chemotherapy. Blood thinners. Now bleeding non-stop. Hospital emergency. Three hospitals in a single day (I knew she’d not come out). She might go home. No, she can’t as there is a heart infection. Blood transfusions. Antibiotics for the heart. “Sorry, this is it”. I run to her side. One last chat. Morphine to numb the pain. No response. Janne is gone.

It was just a moment.