It wouldn't be right not to put a cap on this blog. Mr. Miller passed from this life on June 4 2017. Without going into details that are personal and private, I will skim through the last couple years of his living while dying.
This man was blessed with unfathomable hope, forward looking and thinking. He had a strong belief in God, and that all things are possible. Whether or not I share that belief, I admired his strength and faith.
Mr. Miller received a year of chemotherapy, it drove his PSA down. But a CT scan indicated a new tumor that was not of the Prostate Cancer family. The cancer had evolved. Disheartening. But...Miller received radiation therapy, and that shrunk the tumor measurably. ( More hope) After that he was switched to a different chemotherapy to see if that would control the new mass. It did not. But the mass remained stable.
What is amazing about Costa Rica and its medical care, is that the doctors here still REALLY CARE about their patients. You can text, email, or WhatsApp them any time of day or night with a problem the patient is having, and an answer will come shortly.
Although his Oncologist and I had different feelings about reinitiating chemotherapy near the end of his life, Miller wanted to try anything that might help him to live longer. Death was looming by this time. The doctor's words were "I don't want to kill him with chemotherapy." Reasonable, without a doubt. My feelings were: "I don't want him to die because of not having it."
Since the chemo didn't have any dire after-effects I pushed for treatment, and against his gut feelings, the doctor complied. He did so, because that's what we wanted, because each person is an individual and responds differently to treatment, and "because I could be wrong" -- something NO doctor in the US would ever say out loud.
So treatment began again. Again, fatigue was the only side-effect. I don't know if we did the right thing or the wrong thing, but Miller eventually ended in the hospital with another episode - of his several episodes - of pleural effusion. (he had been hospitalized several times with this)
He was now nearing the end of his life, a fact which had become clearly evident to everyone (except Miller!) He still planned on coming home, gaining some weight back, and helping me around the house again. That was never to be.
This is a Catholic country. Miller was not Catholic. I was Catholic in another lifetime. So I called for the hospital's chaplain who happened to be a Priest. He anointed Miller, which I assume gave both of them peace. The next day Miller, tired of all the tubes going into him, said "Get these things off of me, I've suffered enough" The doctor complied and removed the tube that gave him some extra caloric intake via glucose. Miller went into a sleep-like state. I thought it was the end.
Suddently he awoke, eyes wide open, a bit agitated-not like him at all- and said "I've got more work to do." I was taken aback. This was quite out of character for him. This was not speech which was even likely to come out of the mouth of the Miller I knew and loved. He fell asleep. For the last time. I cherish the experience of being present at his death, his peaceful, calm, painless death. He had no physical pain during his ordeal, except for occasional back pain which could be controlled with Aleve. He was truly blessed in his dying experience.
I cherish the memories, of our time together, and the lessons learned, and those forgotten. I cherish our twenty years together. He will never know how much I learned from him. Nor how deeply I loved him, but I will know it forever. I know he is with me even today.
