Sad news 16th Feb 2019

 On the 27th of Jan we had lunch at Sud's. Mum was not there. It seemed odd but noone had any idea that it was bad, including herself. A few days before things got bad, Mum had been shopping with Ceal, walking around fine, doing all the normal stuff.

One day at home, suddenly she could feel herself falling, placed her drink on the table, and lay down. She had no strength and could not get up. The plumber was due to visit, so luckily she could call out to him.

He helped her up. When John got home, she was functional but clearly not great. They took her to the GP, Nerida an old buddy of mine from Uni. She ran tests, which indicated elevated Calcium in the blood. Nerida said it is not good, and to go to hospital. Celia asked her to call if things got worse. Finally the pain was bad enough even for Mum to call Ceal and ask to go to hospital.

We visited every day. At first Mum was quite chatty, giving us her theories on why the calcium was up, telling me about her fall. As the pain got worse, the doctors used Endone which kills the pain, but made Mum sleepy. Plus she had fluid on the lungs so breathing was difficult and short. They drained the lungs once and that Saturday she was back up again and chatty as ever.

They ran tests for the first week odd, then finally Tuesday, I think it was, they said Neuro Endocrine Tumour. Maryanne said it would be years for a young person, but without treatment, it would be weeks. On Friday they moved her to Greenwich, in her own room, with a view over the garden. The lady with a trolley gave us some Baileys, nice.

On Saturday, I got down there about 10.30am. It had only been two weeks since she first got into hospital. Bev, Ron, Maryanne, Ceal and Fil were there. I'd brought a Botrytis port, an old favourite, thinking she might like a shot. Ron told me she's taken a turn for the worse, like she wouldn't be having some today. She did seem to be sleeping ok. Mum slowed her breathing at odd times. Someone would hush the room and we all stopped to see if she was ok. She'd start breathing again a moment later. I thought she was ok. Mum did it once more, a bit longer, then again but did not start breathing again. She died at about 11.20am. Everyone was upset, making phone calls. Trish and Steve came to visit straight away, Trish saying "I'm going to miss her like hell." I was very glad to have been there and not miss it.

Here's my eulogy for the funeral. I choked on it a couple of times, but mainly people could understand the speech.

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Our mum was born in 1934, only a few years after the Great Depression. When she was 5, a second world war started, not very long after they’d finished the War to end all Wars, and continued until she was 11.

Her parents were Ron and Margaret. She was the eldest of 5. Her siblings were Ron, Trish, Cliff and Ellen. She went to schools in Auburn, Parramatta, Saint Vincents at Potts Point, then University.

She studied all the time, said Ellen who shared a room with her, even falling asleep at the desk. It was tough. She had to repeat first year.

While anyone could go to university at the time, women were expected to stay at home. But, her father, who we knew as Pop Pop, proudly paid for anyone who wanted to go. Mum said Pop would often walk rather than take the bus, to save a few bob.

She was one of only three women in the whole year. People would say: you’re taking a spot from a man. Don’t waste it. You’ll just get married, and stay at home. Pop pop clearly didn’t care what people said. With the hard times of the Depression in mind, I suppose, he wanted security for the both the boys and the girls of the family, and thought everyone should have a job they could fall back on. Pop said medicine is a great choice because people will always get sick; so you’ll always have a job.

At university they sat alphabetically. So my mum who’s named Redwin, sat next to my Dad who’s named Re, while they dissected frogs and rats. They got married. She finished the course and worked at St Vincents in the city and St Josephs at Auburn. Then she had 6 children, and stayed at home.

After a decade, Mum started working again, and had to read up the old text books. Dad was never too healthy and died in 1974, leaving her the sole breadwinner, home maker and carer of the kids. She was lucky to have a job to fall back on thanks to Pop, and to receive lots of live in help thanks to Aunty Beat, who never married, and enjoyed being with children. Mum had amazing energy and was fast, washing, cooking, driving kids to Saturday sport, and forgetting to pick them up. Aunty Trish said she was the fastest potato peeler in the world.

To add to her concerns, death duties equal to half the value of the house and contents meant there was no frivolous spending. She never threw out anything if possible.

We always had a good time though, driving her half insane while she tried to watch the TV news on 3 different channels each night during dinner. Though money was scarce, Mum took us on holidays to Jindabyne in summer, in cabins with bunk beds and a communal kitchen, bushwalking in Kosciusko, sliding down on patches of snow. Trips to Palm Beach are lifelong memories, as is staying in the car, in the hot sun on vinyl seats, while she and Aunty Trish shopped in Dee Why textiles. They would fit 2 adults and 9 children in the car with 2 bench seats. At Warringah Mall, we’d entertain ourselves in the Lego area for hours, while mum went off and shopped.

While times were tough at the start, to show what a determined woman she was, 9 years later she’d saved enough to take all of us on holidays to France in 1983(?). We stayed in the same apartment the whole time. She wouldn’t get out until around midday, so Celia and I would jump on any old bus and get completely lost, like any average kids visiting a foreign city.

3 years later she took us to China. It truly was a random destination. Few visited China, and fewer during the minus 20 winter. Mum said it was cheaper than a holiday to the Gold Coast. As a family of 6 kids in a Communist country with a single child policy, we did get stared at a bit. Her favourite story was when she rang us up to yell at us bloody kids, the bus is about to leave, get ready and come quickly. The voice on the phone said “I’m sorry M’aam, but I just can’t make it.”

She left work in Campsie, started working solo, close to home, but had to leave due to the Lane Cove Tunnel, and had to move work once more after that. As per Pop, she was often worried about work, so she made all of us go to Uni as well.

Faith was very important. During hard times, her faith gave her comfort and strength.

She was fierce. An old friend of mine, a doctor at RNSH, who got to know mum, said other doctors at the hospital would make her call mum about referred patients because they were too scared to talk to her. But the patients loved mum. She loved work, chatting with patients, and taking care of people. Patients gave her Christmas cards, wrote postcards, gave her chocolate, enough alcohol to sink a ship, painted her pictures and one made her a piece of furniture.

We worried about Mum, mentioning to move into a smaller home. But she wanted to be in her home, a self funded retiree, and stubbornly stayed there all along.

We’ve been very lucky to have her for 84 years. We will miss her.
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