These are not a great pictures, they could be considered not even good pictures, but they have a lot of meaning for me and I have to express that somehow...
My partner of almost twenty years is dying and I cannot do anything to stop it. I have always been the one who fixed things for her but I cannot fix this. In 2015 she was diagnosed with breast cancer that had progressed very quickly. She had an operation within six weeks of the diagnosis and the expectation was then that she would be clear of it. Since then she has lead a super healthy lifestyle - really simply improving on what she had already: she grew her own organic food, was a vegetarian, cycled to work 16km most days, paddle boarded and did pump and Pilates classes. She was a picture of fitness and health and the cancer physicians used her as an exemplar of what one can do if one has been stricken.
Alas, the cancer was in fact throughout her body, but in amounts so minute the scans did not pick it up and she looked so healthy no-one thought anything but she was cured. But it was growing everywhere. Another lump appeared over Christmas and as a precaution they removed it in early February and had it analyzed - it was malignant. A full scan revealed its progress throughout her bones and her liver. The surgeon delivered what was essentially a death sentence the same day our landlords told us they were selling our apartment and we have to move out.
She has been incredibly brave... she wanted to know the plain unvarnished facts, as she put it "I will take the bullet in the face" and has been determined to make the most of her time and fight this last enemy to the finish. Initially they said she had months, but the oncologist said that with on-going chemo and radiation therapy that may stretch out to a year or two, but of course these come with side effects. We had a dark week when the whole thing overwhelmed her, but she has come through that and now there are just bouts of despair as she is overwhelmed with setbacks, such as when drugs cause reactions or today when they had to remove another lump. She is getting amazing support from her medical team and a couple of hospice charities that offer physical and emotional support.
She is working half time now - as an academic her work is a big part of her life and she finds a lot of self-value in what she does - and she is doing amazing things: creating a whole new degree structure at her university, something that few people get to do in their careers, so she sees this as her legacy and wants to see it through for as long as possible. I will do everything I can to let her fulfill her ambitions.
I am her helper: doing whatever I can to organize and manage our forced move, managing the home front and being her chauffeur when she has to go to medical appointments. I am also there when she is afraid, depressed or angry: all those emotions that one must feel under these conditions.
I also take her to her early morning paddle board sessions. This one ran from 7:00am to 8:00am, so we had to be up about 5:30am to get her there with her gear to go on afterwards to work. At this stage of the year the days are shortening fast so the sun was just rising towards the end of her last session for this series. Outwardly, apart from a limp from her infected bones, she is appears a picture of health: she still cycles and paddle boards and that takes me to this photo. That is when i took this image...
She had to leave her group early to get back, she isn't as fast as she used to be because her swollen liver is compressing her right lung and reduces her aerobic capacity. I saw her coming towards me as the sun rose behind her, with her physio beside her to make sure she was OK. I took the image just as her physio peeled off to go back to the group and the symbolism of that moment hit me hard. She is the one on the left with the orange top. The life-giving warmth and of the sun was behind her, as she paddled steadfastly towards the darkness, leaving her companions behind her. I took this as the tears poured down my face.
This last photo, taken while I waited for her, reminds me that each day is precious and there is beauty in the most humble of events, like a sunrise on the still waters of a bay in Auckland...
I hope that when my time comes I will face it with a fraction of the courage that she does...