Talk to me about death from liver cancer

When we have cancer of the liver, our bodies cannot do that anymore. They fairly quickly have more toxins than they can handle. This leads to a rapid cancer death. A liver cancer death.

How does it feel to have a body full of toxins? How does it feel knowing that the liver cannot clean our blood as it used to? Our eyes might turn yellow. Our skin might turn yellow.

How does it feel to have something growing inside of our bodies? Something growing very fast. Spreading rapidly to other parts of our bodies. Like our lymph. Like our bones. Like our colon.

And to know that we will die from that rapid growth? That these cancer deaths final days might be uncomfortable, to say the least. Painful most likely. Liver cancer death. Our liver cancer death.

If you are looking for medical information about Lung Cancer, click here.

A few years ago I was hired as part of a team of caregivers for Gini. She had just been admitted to Hospice with a prognosis of about 3 months to live. Her body's diagnosis was metastasized liver cancer.

Gini had been an architect and a trainer for Transcendental Meditation. Her house was meticulously clean and orderly. Everything had been placed with conscious intent. Even her garden was very clean without any weeds.

By her own admission she loved being in control of her life. Dying to her was a way to feel out of control. She both felt scared of it and looked forward to it. Her husband Roy had died four years ago and Gini was more than ready to join him. She looked forward to joining him.

Gini went down fast. Ten days after I had been hired, she was actively dying. That is she was expected to die within the next 12 to 24 hours.

When I came to work on a Friday morning, I checked in with Gini. She was laying in her bed. She could not talk anymore. She could not move her body very much. She looked so small in her queen size bed.

I could see the fear in Gini's eyes. They were wide open. I wondered whether it was hard for her not to be in control anymore. This last time. When I tried touching her hands, she shook her head. When I tried touching her feet, she shook her head. So that was not going to work.

I sat down next to her bed on a stool and started singing to her. I knew that Gini had been a member of the local Peace "Choir.

So I sang various chants.

She would look me in the eyes and keep looking. As if locked in with me. That and the singing calmed her down.

I sang "Dona Nobis Pacem". One of her adopted daughters joined me in the singing. Together we managed to sing at least two parts of the canon.

We spent most of the day singing to Gini. It was the only thing that helped her relax.

In the late afternoon Ginin started breathing faster. Her lips were looking blue. So were her hands. One of us was still singing.

Gini breathed faster and faster. We kept singing.

Finally there was only one more breath.

No more breath. No more singing.

Gini had died.

Stillness.


If you want to read a story about a different aspect of Gini's death, click here.

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