Given the
circumstances, you don’t expect people to say that they’re ‘lucky’ they met an
oncologist. Cancer is one of those words
with the power to silence a thousand conversations, to make your heart stop
beating and every second last an eternity.
Everybody has a story, their mother, sister, grandfather, cousin, next
door neighbor or best friend. We know that nobody is immune and that nothing
can prepare you for those five little words “I’m sorry, you have cancer.”
Through my
family, I’ve experienced the wonderful compassion and care provided by Professor George Kannourakis, the Director of
Research at Ballarat Cancer Research Centre on numerous occasions. Despite
incredibly trying circumstances, Professor Kannourakis, who would always insist
we ‘call him George,’ went out of his way to ensure that patients and their
families were treated with dignity and compassion. Complex procedures and side
effects were gently discussed and options, information and supportive hugs were
readily available.
Although I have
many stories, the one closest to my heart is my darling Grans.
Gran was my
maternal grandmother; she wore trousers instead of skirts, drove a little Mazda
121, watched Melrose Place and made the best biscuits in the world. Growing up, she was an integral part of our
lives in the audience for every netball game, swimming race and
graduation. She lived and loved fiercely
with a determination that would exhaust someone half her age.
Gran was also a
survivor. At the age of 83 Gran grown up
in the depression, worked hard to raise her family, lost her husband before the
age of 60 and beat cancer twice. She
hated the idea of losing her independence and abhorred things old people did,
like playing lawn bowls. I think we all
thought she would be around forever.
In 2008 she lost
her older sister, ‘Aunty Phyl’ to pancreatic cancer, a sneaky, silent disease
that is rarely diagnosed in time for effective treatment. Then things started
to change for Gran too. Her eyesight got
worse, she wasn’t comfortable driving anymore and she lost her balance and had
trouble using her right hand. Initially,
this was put down to the stress of grief and the fact that Gran, despite her
best efforts, was getting older.
A few weeks
later at my mother’s birthday dinner Gran struggled to hold her knife and fork,
she kept dropping things and struggled to get in and out of the car. We took her to the doctor who suggested an
MRI to rule out anything sinister – at that stage we worried that she had
suffered a stroke.
When the
diagnosis came, it was devastating; Gran had a malignant, inoperable tumor on
her brain. George was incredible. He allowed Gran to pick her treatment
options, and when she decided that chemo was no longer an option, the kindness,
support and gentle compassion he provided was wonderful.
Gran passed away
almost 3 weeks to the minute from when she received her diagnosis. Though it was a horrible period for my
family, the fact that she could be treated with such expertise and compassion,
so close to home made things a little more bearable.
Ballarat is
lucky to have such a wonderful facility available for such trying times. On behalf of all the 'Grans' out there I say
thank you and encourage you to support the Ballarat Cancer Research Centre in
any way that you can.
A personal account by Melanie Schoo.
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