I lost a border once. Syria - about 11 years ago.

I was trekking out in the east of the country being shown the sites by an itinerant Palestinian. We were a bit lost and stopped at a village to get our bearings.

Turned out we were in Iraq.

My family lost my sister in law, Mahinaarangi Tocker, today. Sad, sad, sad loss to NZ music, and to us all. She is precious, and irreplaceable. One less good person in this cold world.

My family lost my sister in law, Mahinaarangi Tocker, today. Sad, sad, sad loss to NZ music, and to us all. She is precious, and irreplaceable. One less good person in this cold world.

Jackie, I am so sorry to hear this - I never met her but I have certainly heard her music - NZ is such a small place, the loss seems to resonate all the more.

We lost Sue at the end of March. When I say “we”, I mean pretty much everyone who ever knew her: family, friends, family of friends & friends of family.

It is easy to see symbolism in the circumstances surrounding someone’s passing, we lost Sue the day the drought broke, the day a glorious Summer that she wasn’t able to enjoy, effectively ended. As her body was taken from her house to the hearse, a tui hopped about no more than a metre away from the gurney, trilling a farewell song.

Her faithful border terrier was with her when she died, the dog knew something was up & ran to Sue’s husband for comfort, or perhaps to comfort.

Sue was diagnosed with Crohns disease, when she was in her 20s, after her first (but not last) emergency dash to hospital suffering from dehydration & starvation. She was kept alive in the intervening decades by periodic doses of steroids, and assorted experimental treatments, all of which came with side effects, and risk. Risk that would never go away.

Two years ago Sue had, and beat, breast cancer. She received 6 monthly scans & all seemed well.

At Christmas this year Sue was diagnosed with pneumonia, her immune system was shot from years of Crohns & its treatments. A week or so into the new year the diagnosis was changed alarmingly, if she ever had pneumonia, the doctors weren’t concerned anymore, Sue was now suffering from lung, liver and bone cancer. And possibly kidney cancer too, they never really made that clear. The next few weeks resembled nothing so much as a nightmare episode of House, as ailments were discovered & announced.

It was the sheer array of foes lined against her that had us worried. She’d been close to death before, and pulled through, but this time we were rattled. Her doctor spoke of treatment & long term remission though. We were slightly reassured.

Sue had some trouble breathing & was hospitalised. Her white cell count was way down & there was insufficient oxygen in her blood & she was to receive some massive transfusions in order to build her strength so that she could face chemo therapy.

She contracted an infection from the blood & we feared we would lose her that night.

Then she staged a remarkable recovery, was kept in for several days under observation, before being allowed home with oxygen supplies, painkillers & a walking frame.

Oh, and the blood problem was caused by bone marrow cancer. If anyone deserved a lucky break it was Sue, but it wasn’t to be.

She was in constant pain & nausea throughout all of this. She waxed for a few weeks, then waned…

Sue had two or three chemo treatments, before she was deemed too weak for any more. A scan confirmed what we already suspected: the drugs didn’t work, they just made it worse. But there was an alternative treatment. Did I mention side effects? Well, let’s not.

Throughout all of this, Sue’s husband & her mother tag teamed caring for her, with some help from the rest of us. Her mother said she really wished it was her suffering & not Sue, but Sue told her she’d not wish it upon anyone.

Later, she admitted that yes, she’d quite like it if someone else had it now. She’d had enough. She was scared she was dying, and fearful of not seeing her sons grow up.

The next chemo session was cancelled too. And it is likely that that was the last straw, psychologically. Sue declined that week, and although we all displayed hope, and we & she were working on building her strength for the next dose, deep down we knew that there would be no more recovery, neither remarkable nor mundane.

I saw her last on the Thursday, she sat up in bed, ate a little of a blueberry muffin I’d brought & told me about her week. She was slightly delirious by now, something we hoped was caused by an anti anxiety drug she’d begun taking.

On the Saturday, we got crushing news – there would definitely be no recovery, the end game was beginning. I confess I was knocked off my feet & spent the afternoon feeling nauseous & crying. The heavens opened & it poured down.

And yet still, we thought we had weeks with her. As it turns out we had less than 12 hours.

I got the call around 1.15am Sunday morning, she’d passed peacefully in bed at home, surrounded by her family. She’d been up & about that day (to some extent) and speaking with her sister in law minutes before.

It seems some “event” took her, a clot, or something. It was quick & painless & in some ways maybe, was the best way.

I arrived at her place 10am, just in time to see her being zipped up by the undertakers & removed. My brother Richard had flown from Auckland early in the morning & beat me by couple of hours. The next week up until the funeral was awful. Horrendous, but preparations kept us all busy, and the family huddled for comfort.

The send off itself was magnificent. But now there is a Sue sized hole in everyone’s lives that will never go away, but will surely become easier to negotiate around as time passes.

For Sue.

On a far more trivial note... this week I lost my treasured replica of The One Ring.

It must have slipped off my finger. Possibly in the Botanic Gardens.

Should anyone come across it, you may as well let me know as the invisibility & middle earth domination features have never worked.

Andrew, that was a beautiful piece of writing, as was your blog about your sister. Condolences and large enveloping hugs.

Thank you. I wasn't going to mention it, but in a weak moment I did. No doubt it helps, but it doesn't feel like it right now.

And I just got an email from an old mate, wondering if I remembered abseiling into the Mangatepopo Stream, on a school trip at OPC in the 1970s. And I do.

It is all so gut wrenching.

Do you know, it may not help how you feel right now. Nothing could make you feel better, right now. However, you just shared your beautiful sister with alot of people who will read that, and care that she lived. And that will help in the long run.

I lost my way, once.

Andrew I can't finish reading what you wrote right now, cos I'll cry and cry, but I just wanted to add my big hugs too. It's been a pretty sucky couple of weeks for personal and public tragedy imho.

I was lying in my bed one night, listening to a dedication on the radio, feeling rather pleased. The song finished , Jason Rock pig came on and said, “Sorry Sofie,perhaps that was a bit inappropriate.” Not at all ,(I thought) Nancy Sinatra was a fine singer and 'Bang,Bang ,I shot him down was a great little number. It was then I began to think, hang on... why would he say that?... Why would he do a dedication in the first place?... He don't that... How do I know that?. At that moment Adele walked into the room. I promptly de ear plugged and asked her,”Have I lost a part of my mind? She said No! I followed on with, Will I ? She said No!I pushed with “How do you know? She responded. “Sofie I guess I don't truly know, I mean who knows if they will ever loose their mind, I mean to say ,I lost my mind, suggests found again so I guess all I can say is I don't think so.”
I lay in bed pondering the answer and at that point I made up my (apparently intact) mind to find out. By morning I had come up with a plan. I had one arm that worked and surely the other was ready to try. Breakfast was boring. I had things to do, places to go. The morning visit entailed a list of things to bring that night ,( I think he was pleased I had begun to think about anything really). I wanted some of those leis from the $2 shop, scissors, cardboard, glue, pkt of felt tips and those nice silver ones which were quite special.
With shopping procured, I began to write a list of everyone I could remember that had worked so hard to look after me . The list didn't come easy but I got to 36 people! I felt good. My next task was, make the card. I had to have help to fold the cardboard, but after that ,I was away. I managed to make the thank you card, and although, not my usual fastidious style, I was happy I could remember all the staffs names. I hadn't lost my mind!
I moved on shortly after that. I think my mind is still intact. I proved to myself and wanted to share this.. Head ache... Brain Hemorrhage ...Operation...insert titanium bolts ...(I call neurological bridges)... stroke, paralysis , epilepsy from the op (but not much choice).. and after 5 years all good, and, our public health system Doctors reassured me that a couple of pills will work, and they do. Only one thing bothered me. As I was leaving Ak Hospital, Adele said to me” nothing wrong with your brain Sofie, but do you think you could add me to the list on the card ?”. SHEEEZ!!
I am pretty happy with my outcome. I found out 2 years later that not only was ¼ of the skull removed, ( another necessary bit) but my jaw muscle had been also and Adele was so sure I would be fine because I had no problem talking! Now that was weird .If you are out there Adele, Ola' Comme es tas?

I

Jason Rock pig came on and said,

Ah, was Stinky Jim, not Jason Rock Pig.:-)