by Jack Lynch
Once, Molly and I set out for a holiday in Cork, and Kerry, with Paddy and his wife Clo. We were halfway to Cork when Molly asked me if I had put her stuff in the boot. I told her I assumed she had done so as she still had it when I put my suitcase in the car. Panic set in.
“You’re joking, you did pack it for me, didn’t you,” she exclaimed.
“No, I didn’t,” I said, as we pulled over on the side of the road, where Clo and Paddy also pulled up in their car. They were wondering what was going on, when they saw Molly frantically opening the boot. The colour drained from her cheeks. She again searched the boot of the car and of course there was nothing to comfort her.
In a bewildered voice, she exclaimed “I have nothing to wear and no change of any clothes.” Gradually, we all started to laugh, and poor Molly had to watch as we were doubled over. She took it fine, and borrowed some clothes from her sister Eileen, in Mallow, and bought some new underwear. She got on fine, and we had a lovely holiday in Creman, and around the ring of Kerry. In the midst of all this happiness we were in for a rude and painful experience which was to shatter our long term dreams….
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Over the years Molly had her traumas with deaths in her family. Her mother Anne died on January 31st, 1984, aged eighty four. Molly was at her bedside when she died and it naturally upset Molls for quite a while. Next to go was her twin brother Paddy. He died of cancer, on February 21st 1990, aged fifty eight and Molly was extremely upset when Paddy died. I suppose it was the twin relationship, and Molly kept playing tapes of Spanish South American music and tangos that Paddy had given her. One particular tape that I remember was the South American Group called Los Fabulosos Paraguayos. She played their music day after day in the kitchen, and I tried to console her but she sobbed, and it took a long time for her to get over this death. Doreen the eldest, died sometime around 1993, and cancer was again the killer. However, Doreen had been a heavy smoker and after the death of her husband Leo, she became very lonesome and kept to herself. Molly went to England for both funerals of Paddy and Doreen.
Poor Molly then had to contend with my illness when I developed a heart problem and had to have Bi-pass heart surgery in 1989, Molly seemed to be stressed. I don’t know if this was the trigger for her developing cancer in her oesophagus over the years that followed. I know the main cause was cigarette smoking. It took a very long time to confirm the diagnosis. Molly began suffering and had difficulty swallowing food. She had to attend a consultant who performed a throat stretching operation under anaesthetic. I drove her regularly for this to be done as a day patient, and waited until she was wheeled out. She told me it was a terrible ordeal, with this metal tube inserted into her throat while she was still semi conscious. How I felt for my poor darling, but she got some respite for a short period, before it all had to be done again. One horrible day she was told that a biopsy had shown a malignant symptom, and she would need drastic surgery to remove the oesophagus, and this meant that they had to rejoin her stomach, directly with her throat. This was done by opening the neck, and stomach, and stitching together what was left of her throat minus, the oesophagus. She was then stapled at the wounds. My poor darling suffered a lot. It was felt that the cancer had been contained, and had not spread. How wrong can you be? After various X-rays, and further tests, good news continued to boost Molly, even though she was not progressing as well as she should have. We had been to Italy for Sean’s wedding, and later on we went over again for another visit while she was ill with cancer. She did not enjoy this visit as she was in pain, and I was too dumb to take full heed of the seriousness of her condition.
One day a family friend, Molls brother-in-law, were at our house enjoying a holiday. He was a doctor and did not like what was going on, and asked Molly to come to Cork where he would have her checked out. She was booked into hospital there at Shanakiel hospital, and the first X-rays indicated widespread secondary cancer. There was no hope. Neither Radio Therapy nor Chemotherapy was recommended. What a devastating blow to all of our family. Grief was flooding through me as I brought Molly home. All the fight was gone, and she was tired out. All we could do was wait, and make Molly as comfortable as possible.
After a few months Molly had to stay in bed and Nurses from St. Francis Hospice paid daily visits. They eventually had to give morphine. These nurses are a credit to their profession, and never failed to administer love, and help to Molly, and our family. I have nothing but admiration, and thanks for them for making Molly as comfortable as possible. All the family came home as time came close, and Molly was more or less in a coma, and fading fast. Shortly before the nurse left at around midday, on the 24th July, I was downstairs talking to her, and she told me that Molly had only a short time left. Emotion flooded over me and I had to rush back up to be with Molly.
The nurse then left. Ann and Susan were with Molly, and they noticed that Molly’s finger nails were getting black. I had not noticed this, but knew that there was a change for the worse. We were constantly at her side, and Susan was holding Molls hand when she said, “Dad, Mom’s nails are going blacker.” Susan then left the room, and tried to phone the nurse without success. Immediately, I called everybody to the room, my sisters, and Moll’s brother Donald, and her sister Eileen with her husband Michael, who had been downstairs. It was 12.36 p.m. on July 24th, 1995 when Molly drew her last breath, as I held her hand. Ann told me that Molly opened her eyes for a second, just before that, and I wish I had seen her eyes once more. I was bent forward saying a prayer, and I missed that moment. My God! It is so difficult writing, and reliving this part of my life.
I feel resentful to some of the medical profession for what I class, as lack of professional conduct, and attention to detail, and correct analysis of Molly’s problem. How could the Hospital in Cork, on their first X-ray find the cancer that was widespread, while the Dublin hospitals had not highlighted any serious problems just prior to the Cork tests? Beaumont did highlight shadows in x-rays which they could not explain and took no further action. Another incident happened when I took Molly to the Mater Public for checks. She felt so weak she could not walk so I sat her down. Various nurses and doctors passed and must have seen her distress and yet did nothing about it. Suddenly, a young nurse came over and asked if she could help. I gratefully asked her to get a wheelchair, which she did, and wheeled Molly to the examination room two floors up. What happened as we entered the room was unbelievable, and made my blood boil. At the desk were three nurses being chatted up by a young doctor. This fellow had all the makings of a, ‘Man about town,’ trying to impress the girls. He lifted his head when we came into the room, and addressed the kind nurse who had helped. “Why are you up here?” He piped up.
She just said, “I saw this lady was in difficulty and helped her get a chair.”
He then put on his bedside manner and said; “You should keep your head down when situations like this face you and pass by. I always do.” He bragged in front of Molly and me. I turned on him, felt like punching him, but instead I kept my cool. I said, “You young upstart. You’re not fit to be a doctor. You’re a disgrace to your profession and need to learn humanity, and keep away from my wife.”
He blushed, and went out, whilst the other nurses attended Molly. I again thanked the nurse who helped.
A further incident occurred in this hospital on a second occasion. Again, I brought Molly in after her major surgery, to have a broken staple removed from her neck. The nurse came in, looked, and went off to get a tweezers. She returned after about five minutes to say, she could not find a tweezers, and asked us to come back tomorrow. I lost my temper! As loud as I could, I shouted at her, and asked what kind of hospital this was, that there was not a tweezers available. I then sat down. I told her that I would not move until the broken staple is removed from my wife’s neck. Within five minutes it was done, but can you blame me for these outbreaks because of such incompetence? There’s more, but I think I have relived enough for now. Molly’s sister Ann
e died shortly after Molly.
With all happiness comes the cost, and it was enormous. After thirty eight years of marriage, and only some months after Susan’s wedding, my darling Molly was taken from us, having suffered cancer for a number of years, without being diagnosed in time, and despite after being diagnosed, she underwent radical surgery, was given a clean bill of health, and made countless visits to hospitals. We were all shattered, but have the consolation of knowing she died at home with her loving family, and relatives around her. It took years to get over it.
We are constantly reminded when we see the Red Admiral butterfly. At the gates of the cemetery on July 1995, a Red Admiral butterfly met us, and when we got to the grave it landed on the coffin. Many times over the years, this type of butterfly crosses our paths, and is a source of comfort. I address my butterflies as Molly, when I see them. Quite often, they appear in the church during Mass. Some have come into our bedroom when the window was open. Many of Molly’s friends also associate the butterfly with Molly. She had been such a well-loved and loyal friend. I miss her so much.
May my darling Rest in Peace. Thanks for the memories Molly, darling, and the wonderful family we have.