This has been, by far, the hardest chapter for me to write.
First, it is helpful to know that Lolly was in the hospital several years before we moved to Port Orchard because of a tumor in her neck. It turned out to be benign but the hospital stay, surgery, anticipation of a cancer issue and then recovery were all tough. A couple years after that Lolly was diagnosed with atrial fibrillation (irregular heart beat) and we had another 5 day hospital stay, tests, drugs, scares of imminent heart attack, etc. Any hospital stay is difficult at best, but throw in surgery, constant tests, lack of sleep, dehumanization, drugs for every possible suspected condition (many of which are caused by the drugs themselves) and it becomes terrible.
In May, 2010 Lolly was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. It was fairly late stage because the only symptom she presented was distention in her tummy. Her blood marker for ovarian cancer, called “CA-125,” was at 2,000 (normal is around 20). Within a week of the diagnosis Lolly underwent major surgery. She called the surgery a “super-sized hysterectomy.” The surgeon said he got “99% of the tumors” (those he could see), but Lolly still needed chemotherapy so Lolly started on chemo. She lost her hair but not her spunk; her blood marker got steadily better. By December, 2010 her CA-125 had dropped to normal and stayed there several months. Lolly and I decided (consulting with her oncologist) to stop chemo. Lolly’s hair and our hope started to come back.
By May, 2011 it was clear that the ovarian cancer was not in remission. Her marker shot back up again and she started on more chemo. Lolly went through three or four chemo agents – her blood marker seemed to be improving but not fast enough, Lolly was weak, losing her appetite and her distension continued unabated. By November, 2011 we were sure there was something very wrong. We had Christmas lined up with our daughter, Michelle, in the San Francisco Bay Area and Lolly was not going to miss it! We did celebrate Christmas with both of our daughters (and their families), and Lolly’s mother, Lauretta, but Lolly was so weak that I took her to urgent care right after we landed back in Seattle after Christmas. It was clear that the cancer had spread.
Lolly spent a few days in the hospital again and we decided that Lolly would not be subjected to hospitals, chemo drugs, and such any more. This was the most difficult decision of my life. Many people ask me if it was difficult when Lolly passed away and I say, “Yes, of course.” But, in fact, the days surrounding the decision to let my spouse of 40 years pass away were the most difficult days of my life. I was very, very angry.
Lolly spent a week in a hospice care center in Tacoma and the nurses/doctors were absolutely fantastic. I spent every day (and night) with Lolly while she was in the care center. We arranged for Lolly to come home, to Port Orchard, and we spent another couple of weeks or so there. Again, I spent every day (and night) with her and cherished every minute. Lolly did not suffer, but she had lost almost 30% of her body weight, she was very weak, and it is hard to control one’s body in such a state. However, she would smile and say that it will be fine. Lolly and I had 40+ great years together, her daughters were doing very well and I would no doubt make it through the ordeal. Her biggest regret was not having more time to be a grandma.
On February 7, 2012, at midnight, I gave Lolly her medications and, as I always did, a kiss goodnight. We exchanged “I love you” and I went to sleep. Around 1:30 in the morning Lolly passed away and I found out that I will never be the same again. Even though I tried many times before Lolly passed away to craft an email about Lolly’s passing I couldn’t do it. At 2:30 in the morning on Feb 7, in the room with her, I crafted the following email about Lolly’s passing:
Dear Family and Friends,
Lolly’s journey ended early this morning. Lolly passed away peacefully in her sleep, at home, with me by her side.
I find it difficult to put into words my love for her now; I have a huge hole in my heart. I find it difficult to adequately express my sorrow and grief. Lolly has been a fixture in my world for more than 40 years and yes, I do realize how lucky I am for it. Indeed, Lolly was loved by almost everyone who had the good fortune of knowing her.
Lolly was the victim of a particularly virulent disease, suffered much and complained little. She fought valiantly for many months despite constant setbacks; Lolly is truly my hero.
Lolly and I have family and friends all over the world so we didn’t feel it would be considerate to stage a single memorial event. I will try and have several small “Celebrations of Life” for Lolly in the coming months which should be convenient for many. I also plan on putting together a “Celebration of Life” website for Lolly on the internet - I will let you know the location in the near future.
Thank you all for your kind words, thoughts, prayers and love during this difficult time. If you get a chance, send out a thought or prayer of condolence not just for me, or our daughters and their families, but to everyone who was a friend or family member of Lolly; such is the love she generated in the world.
Greg Hoerner
“When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.” - Kahlil Gibran