When Friends Die

My good friend Gudrun in Germany, who often puts translations of my posts on her site www.bcaction.de, is grieving the loss of a close friend from metastatic breast cancer.

Here is what Gudrun wrote on her site:

On May 29, 2007, our friend Conny died as a result of breast cancer, seven years after she was first diagnosed. Conny was only 51 years old. She is survived by her 26-year-old son.

During her last days, Conny had to endure unimaginable pain. Just when she wasn’t able to fight for herself so well anymore and became in need of help like never before, she was not given enough morphine, and the medical care system showed deep rifts. We are very sad.

In several e-mails, Gudrun told me more about Conny’s last days, and how upset she was that Conny’s doctor cut the amount of morphine and Valium she was receiving from her usual doses, so that Conny was in terrible pain the final days of her life.

Conny’s cancer metastasized to her brain about two months ago, Gudrun wrote, “and the medical support in this time was horrible. The last four weeks I was at her side every day and it was a big struggle and no help anywhere.”

Gudrun begged the doctors and nurses to give her friend enough morphine, but they brushed her off, and the doctor left the hospital the day before Conny died without giving the necessary orders.

“I spoke with the doctors: ‘She is a dying person, please gave her more morphine …’ Gudrun said.

"’She won't die, give me time until Thursday,’ the doctor said. At that time she had 22 hours to live. I explained everything, again and again. ‘I understand,’ the doctor said. And he went home, without leaving instructions to give her more.

“Then we fought with the nursing staff. 'The doctor didn't leave a message. Your explanations don't interest,' they told me."

The next morning, Gudrun received a phone call at 8 a.m. telling her that Conny was dying. Gudrun and Conny’s son and the son’s girlfriend were with her when she died.

"There was nothing of 'humane medicine,'" Gudrun says. "There was not ONE word from her oncologist. For him I wrote a special poem. It's very angry.”

Now Gudrun is trying to help Conny’s son and his girlfriend find a new place to live. “They are alone and they have done ALL THE BEST for Conny,” she says.

And Gudrun’s own grief is overwhelming. “I loved Conny as my twin,” she writes. "I have been crying since May 9. … Her son is my son at the moment.”

I am so sad for Gudrun. And I am so angry for Conny. No one should have to die in that kind of pain.

Morphine eases pain, doesn't shorten life

@ Jeanne Sather 2007.