Kay

The night that we were going out to dinner after Steve’s dad’s memorial service I missed a call from Maggie. I remember her message caused me some worry: it was something about my aunt Kay being unwell, but she was OK. I decided to put off calling Maggie back until the following day as I wasn’t feeling up to any more bad news, and when I rang back, Maggie said that Kay had been diagnosed with leukaemia.

We have almost always lived in different cities, but blue-eyed, fine-featured Kay has been a constant presence in my life. Apparently after Marcus was born 15 months after Maggie and I, Kay looked after me for weeks to give mum and dad a break even though my cousin Rick is only around 6 months older and Chantelle isn’t much younger than Marcus, so Kay already had a toddler and may have been pregnant too. When we were little I remember having a ball staying with Kay, Brian, Rick and Chantelle in Melbourne. We went to a library and I borrowed a book I really loved, and they seemed to have regular treats at their house that we never had at home. It was one of those childhood experiences that is thrilling at the time and leaves a glow when you think about it afterwards.

I remember visiting Kay’s house when I was about seven, when Kay was looking after my grandmother who was dying from breast cancer, and I remember many holidays with Kay, Brian, my grandparents and my family at my grandparents’ 3-bedroom beach house (how did we all fit?) and then the wake of both of my grandparents being held there, Kay always producing miraculous quantities of delicious food.

When I lived in Melbourne doing my honours year, Kay let me know that they were there any time I needed them, and I heard her say the same thing more than once to Duncan when he was living in Melbourne in his university years. She understood we were busy, but wanted us to know that we were always welcome.

After I had finished my six years of uni, and was trying unsuccessfully to get paid work in Adelaide, Kay was working in public health and studying her Masters of Rural Health and she asked me to proofread an article she was writing about the World Congress on Health meeting. I am pretty sure she could have done without my help, but I think she wanted to pay me because she felt sorry that I didn’t have paid work. While I was employed in health policy and was working on a review which involved some interstate travel, I stayed at Kay’s house and I remember feeling very welcome and comfortable, and also well fed! Kay worked for non-government organisations like Multiple Sclerosis Victoria and the Cancer Council Victoria so we talked about health issues too.

Around seven years ago, Brian got a job managing a regional real estate business in Tasmania and they ended up living in Hobart for a few years, with Kay getting a job with the Cancer Council Tasmania. Steve and I had three weeks holidays in Tasmania and Kay invited us to base ourselves with them at their house in between our forays further afield. Not only did they take us out for dinner (and insist on paying) more than once, when we left, Kay gave us a calendar of Tasmanian nature photography – a typical act of generosity, when most people would expect the guests to be giving the presents.

They had great adventures living in another state, but missed Rick, Chantelle and Rick’s young family, so were ready to move back four years later. Kay retired and enjoyed looking after Charlie, their little grandson, one day a week, taking him to the museum and all those places that parents and grandparents take littlies before or after their midday sleep.

Kay and Brian have both been retired, enjoying living at the beach house for the past two years, renewing friendships with old friends, joining a book club and enjoying a relaxed new lifestyle which was still well connected to their children and grandchildren. They had a trip to Europe and the UK last year which made me feel nostalgic for another European visit.

Steve and I and the girls went to see Kay after Easter when we were in Melbourne and she was in hospital, doing OK with ups and downs. Lara and Rhea, who tend to climb on us when they are excited, were clambering all over Steve like monkeys. ‘Poor daddy!’, said Kay. She explained the type of leukaemia she had, Myelodysplastic syndrome with myelofibrosis, which was not necessarily a fast-growing one, and she was participating in a clinical trial and felt that she was in very good hands with the doctors. She didn’t know the details of her treatment though as she freely admitted to being a bit in shock about the whole thing, even two months after the diagnosis.

We were in town again for a few days in October after Steve’s mum generously paid for our flights over the long weekend so we could visit his family and see the Hermitage exhibition. Kay was back in hospital again, hoping that this course of chemotherapy would work so she could have a bone marrow transfer from dad, who is one of the one in four who is statistically a genetic match for their sibling. This time when we visited we didn’t take the girls.

Kay looked well and was more across her treatment this time. I don’t know how we got on to the topic, but she talked about how different chemotherapy is to when her mum was diagnosed with cancer more than 30 years ago. Nanna, only in her early 60s, had decided not to have it because it didn’t seem effective or worth the pain, and Kay said that it was much more effective these days, although she now understood her mum’s decision and her mum being very much at peace with it ‘not that I think I’m at that end stage yet, Isolde, not at all.’ She said that she had been in denial about her own cancer because she worked in health promotion for most of her career, so how could she have got cancer! But she had accepted where she was now, while being optimistic that the chemo would work. And the good thing about all this was the opportunity she had had to see more of mum and dad this year, which she had really enjoyed. Then ‘enough about me, what about you?’

We talked about our jobs – I’m working on another review; and the girls starting kindergarten next year. In an earlier visit, Kay had said that one of Charlie’s older sisters had asked him after he had been at school for a year or so what his favourite subject was. Upon it being explained that a ‘subject’ is an activity, he said his favourite subject is playtime.

I thought Kay would enjoy the story of our plane trip down, and how the girls had called each other from their window seats over both us and the aisle-seat occupants to share the exciting highlights of the trip: ‘Lawa, I’m having apple juice to drink, what are you having?’ ‘Weeah, I’ve coloured in this page, what page are you colouring in?’, while the men sitting next to them ignored them completely and other adults turned around to see who was having these very audible conversations. Kay laughed appreciatively.

We were about to leave when Brian, Rick and Charlie arrived (who I had never met, and he is seven). Brian is an ex-footballer with a build to match, who likes a beer and is not as health conscious as his wife. On being asked how he was, he answered drily ‘I’m very well. I’m the well one in the family.’ Kay smiled. We had tired her out though, and when I kissed her goodbye she was lying down.

With her trademark thoughtfulness, I received a letter from Kay dated 12 October, thanking us for our visit, saying how nice it was to see us and that she was feeling fitter and stronger every day and now ‘eating well.’ ‘Hugs and XXXXs to all the family, especially the girls. Much Love Always Kay XXXX.’

That was our goodbye, because a couple of weeks ago, Kay developed a painful bowel obstruction and infection and was admitted to intensive care. Dad spent a week with her and was hopeful that she would recover, but her immunity was too low from the leukaemia and her body was unable to fight the infection. My beautiful aunty passed away at the age of 68 on November 24th.

I am practising saying my portion of the sonnet ‘Let me not to the marriage of true minds admit impediment’ without choking up – Maggie and I will read it at the service on Tuesday. I try to dwell on the happy times with Kay, and am grateful that in our last meeting we connected so well. But we all struggle with the idea of Kay’s absence, and she was far too young to die.

I have decided to do two things to celebrate Kay’s life.

The first is to tell my girls stories about her: how she bought them armfuls of presents when they were born and how important her and our family and her friends had been to her. Also how she had been passionate about health promotion and women in leadership (she had joined a women in leadership group). I’ll talk about the special times I had with Kay, her distinctive laugh and legendary generosity, and I’ll show them photos of her so they remember their great aunt for many years to come.

The second is more personal. In tribute to her belief in me, I will act more confidently, even if I don’t feel confident. I think that by acting this way, eventually I will feel it too. Empowerment will be her legacy to me and this too will have a ripple effect as a good role model for the girls, as well as benefitting me. Perhaps reciting that sonnet with Maggie, that I last heard in public when Kay recited it off by heart at Rick and Carina’s wedding, will be the first step of my journey.