Dying doesn’t have to be a frightening experience, say the cancer nurses who know

The special remit of the Macmillan Nurses organisation is to care for patients with cancer.

The nurses are renowned for their sympathy, knowledge, competence and good sense in the face of the most trying situations, including the deathbed.

The BBC recently interviewed a number of Macmillan nurses about how patients coped with their approaching death.

For many, there was no fear, only peace and acceptance.

LAST REQUESTS
A dying man asked to see his pet dog for the last time.

Said the nurse: “The joy on his face was indescribable when this large Border collie/Alsatian cross leapt onto his bed.”

Many ask for a last favourite drink. And it’s nothing fancy, nearly always a cup of tea.

One lady said: “I’m coming up to my 80th birthday. I want to have a big party and then I shall go.” And that is exactly what happened.

COURAGE
A nurse said: “More than one patient has told me they will be happy to die. They say, ‘I have had a glimpse of heaven, it’s beautiful and I am not frightened.'"

An elderly lady came to visit her dying husband in hospital and fell ill herself.

They asked if their beds could be put together and they held hands and sang “A Slow Boat to China”. They died within a few days of each other.

One patient ruminated about dying in these words: “It’s not like you see it in the movies or on TV.”

One of the Macmillan nurses said that as a result of attendance at many deathbeds, “I am not afraid of death for myself.”

* * *
It’s woolly hat time here. OK, we have been getting a decent share of autumn sunshine but there’s not much heat in it and walking to the pub last Saturday night, I swore I heard my ears begging for protection.

I’ve got four woolly hats, one grey and three black.

One of the black ones has a leopard or cheetah on it and looks rather pricey, which probably means that somebody bought it for me or I took it from a peg by mistake.

The trouble with my woolly hats is that they refuse to stay over the ears but slowly rise to a peak, making me look like one of Santa’s elves.

Excessive brain activity, I say, but no-one agrees.

BARACLAVA
In my Moscow days, I wore a massive fur hat known as a shapka.

Shapkas have ear flaps, which most Russian men tie over the top of the head since they consider that only little boys and softies let the flaps down over their ears.

This softie always wore the flaps down. Macho is as macho does, I say.

What I would really like is a balaclava. All the boys wore them when I was a kid.

Knitted by your mum, they are a one-piece woollen helmet covering head, neck, ears and face, leaving only a post-box type of slit for eyes and mouth.

The trouble is today only terrorists and anti-terrorist forces wear balaclavas and I don’t fancy being shot by either side. So it’s back to the woolly hat, I guess.

* * *
If you had to take jewels worth £1 million by train from London to Birmingham, how would you carry them?

If it was me, I would hold the case tightly on my lap, preferably chained discreetly to my wrist.

Last week, a messenger embarked on just such a journey, but before he left Euston Station in London, he hoisted the case onto the luggage rack above his head.

It was on his arrival in Rugby, Warwickshire, that he realised it had gone.

GEMS
The case contained a lavish selection of cut gems, including rubies, emeralds and delicate blue sapphires.

Police said they had reason to believe the jewel case was taken before the train left London.

After viewing CCTV images, they distributed a photo of a man they wish to interview.

The anguish of the messenger can only be imagined.

* * *
I may be an old fogey, but some aspects of the modern world baffle me entirely.

It seems a new line of trainers, casual shoes that you might wear on the beach, have been released.

Sophie Lally of Newcastle queued all night then paid £199 for a pair. And Sophie is a university student.

* * *
A lawyer was showing off his expensive new car when a huge truck came by and ripped off the door where he was standing.

A policeman called to the scene was not sympathetic.

“You’re a lawyer, aren’t you?” he said, “another materialist! All you lawyers care about is your possessions. You haven’t even noticed that the truck tore off your arm.”

“My God,” the lawyer exclaimed. “My Rolex!”

* * *
I pointed to two old drunks on the other side of the bar and told my mate, “That will be us in 10 years’ time.”

He said, “That’s a mirror, my good man.”

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