Doreen Elizabeth (Dolly) Shunk

"We truly don’t know how important those who are closest are……..until they are gone."

We love and care for them but until they are no longer with us; we don’t know how much our lives are foDolly1.jpgrever changed.

Some of my fondest memories;

As a kid on Christmas morning it was always about getting my Aunt out of bed so I could open my presents. She was not an early riser and Christmas Day was no different for her.

When I was 15 years old I remember seeing my Aunt wearing her full leathers riding her 1974 Triumph down the road, to all my friends she was the coolest Aunt anyone could have. The first time she took me for a ride on her bike she calmly said “if we start to tip over, put your feet down and help me k”. Then there was my first night at the bar…yes you guessed it, my Aunt took me and bought me my first drink…I won’t tell you how old I was at the time but boy did I have fun that night!!

For several years my Aunt and I did not see each other much, instead she had an active life with her own group of friends she called “family”. There was always the occasional phone call or casual meeting, just enough to let me know she was there and ok.

About 8 years ago Dolly almost lost her life to an infection in her spinal column. I remember the day I was told she was in ICU at Sunnybrook and there was a possibility she would not walk again. For months she worked and fought hard to walk and regain her independence. It was then that we became very close. I had no idea how close we would become or that the title “Aunt” would become more like “Sister and Best friend”. It was also the time she found God and a deep spiritual belief. We were so far apart with religion that we often teased each other about it. I know her teasing was her worry of my lack of faith. As a result of the infection and surgery she was no longer able to work and was forced to settle for a less than comfortable disability payment. She never complained and always arrived with Birthday and Christmas gifts for everyone, even if it meant no grocery shopping that week. With her new challenges, Dolly still had the one thing that I will always remember about her………to have FUN!!! Life for her was all about living the moment and getting the most from each day.

With only 9 years between us in age it was easy for us to act like sisters rather than Aunt and Niece. She lived 2 blocks away from me and became a very important part of my family. Dolly walked through horrid weather to be with my kids every morning at 5:30 am to get them ready for school and as I said earlier she was NOT a morning person. Both Sarah and Tyler would look forward to Monday mornings because it meant Auntie Dolly would be there to take care of them. She had a caring, fun and feisty way of interacting with them. She shared her life experiences with all of us in hope she could save us the pain of her mistakes. I always knew the kids would be comfortable telling her things they would never tell my husband and me. I knew the kids were covered and would be looked after if they told her their deepest secrets.

Dolly never judged anyone for anything they did. She knew she was not perfect and thus nobody else was either. I know my grandmother used to shake her head at the sight of some of her friends. She looked deeper to find who people were. She had a special gift that made people feel comfortable.

Dolly’s fight with PC:

It all started with jaundice, neither of us for some very strange reason was too worried about it. I thought it’s probably some kind of infection; after all she lives a healthy life and is young right? Her doctor referred her to a local surgeon and after a couple of weeks of waiting, the ball started rolling downhill. Several failed ERCP’s followed by confirmed pancreatic tumour. Weeks of waiting to see a specialist at Toronto General Hospital where Dolly would finally have Percutaneous Transhepatic Biliary Drainage (drains externally into a bag) to give some relief from jaundice, which was causing extreme itching and fatigue. She was in fact glowing yellow; after all she had the jaundice for several weeks before receiving treatment. There were several complications as a result of the drains being used for jaundice. They had to be replaced often for they would clog or come out. They caused infections that required hospitalization, blood transfusions and IV antibiotics. Through all of the midnight drives to Toronto General Emergency Dept. after short stops at Orillia’s hospital for pain control, Dolly kept thinking positive. Not once did she say I am not going to make it or I give up and don’t want to be here. We both hoped the tumour could be removed. The surgeon at Toronto General gave us the news we so desperately wanted to hear, “the tumour appears to be operable and we will schedule you for a Whipple procedure”. The procedure was explained in full and all paperwork filled out. The two of us were on cloud nine and thinking of the future was no longer painful. Nine weeks later we were still waiting for a call from the surgeon to tell us when the surgery would take place. The call finally came but I had a feeling it was not going to be what we wanted to hear. The surgeon said “I need to see you about your most recent CT scan”. I never told Dolly I was scared about this appointment. I vividly remember the surgeon saying “the tumour is no longer operable, there was nothing they could do, the surgeon had no need to see Dolly again and well…….you have a few months to live”. Our worlds collapsed and the questions started “was the extended wait for surgery the reason she was no longer a surgical candidate”? Surgeon’s response was “we will never know now”. How about “I would like a second opinion” followed by “they are my colleagues but feel free to see them if you like”. The surgeon told us Dolly could receive chemotherapy as palliative care; it could help control pain and keep her more comfortable. That day is forever ingrained in my memory. Dolly and I cried for what seemed like hours. What bothered Dolly the most about dying? Not being there to see Sarah and Tyler grow up, go to university, get married and have children. The drive home from Toronto seemed never ending. She would stop crying long enough for me to start. I was angry about the lengthy waiting time for surgery and was telling her so when out of nowhere she looked at me and said, “It’s kind of exciting you know”. I said “what is exciting”? She said “Dying”. OMG I was mortified until she said, “I am going to a better place where there is no pain and starting a new life”. Of course my response was “OK then…whatever works for you Dolly”. This comment brought us both to a painful laugh. She smiled until we arrived home.

Dolly had 2 requests.

1. Would I please find a way to let her die at home with her four kids and me by her side?
2. Would I please quit smoking?

I promised her I would honor both requests. I had no idea these promises would be the most painful and difficult of my life. The next 8 months were full of battles followed by more battles. Her last major battle was that of a bypass surgery so she could continue to eat, the tumour had blocked her stomach from intestines. It was several calls to the surgeon before this permanent solution was put in place. It seemed as though they didn’t want to waste resources on someone who they thought would have been dead by now, all her treatments seemed to be a fight. Dolly endured several chemo treatments which did in fact keep her pain at a manageable level.

I knew the end was near when she developed Ascites. I was taking her to the hospital twice a week to have 5-6 litres of fluid drained from her stomach. She joked about it saying “I am bigger than you were when you were pregnant”!! The last trip to the hospital to drain this fluid I was told by her oncologist that she would not make it through the next 24 hours. She slowly stopped drinking, became confused and irritated at times but I knew I was witnessing the end of my Dolly. It was my turn to fulfill the last promise I made her. I kept the Dilaudid flowing as high as allowed, the Fentanyl patches, the Ativan, the Morphine etc. I gave her everything I could to keep her as pain free as possible. Two days later she was still fighting for her life. I told her over and over again it was ok for her to leave us now. We talked about almost everything that she wanted done before she died but there was one thing she could not talk about, the fate of her 2 fifteen year old cats and her deeply loved 14 year old dog. “Red Dog” didn’t leave her side for the last few days of her life; he knew she was going to leave him soon. Dolly never gave up and fought to live to the very end.

Life has forever changed for my family. We lost “Auntie Dolly” to Pancreatic Cancer on February 10, 2008 at her home in my arms at the tender age of 49 years after a courageous 8 month battle. Her “fur kids” joined her in heaven that same day.

You know when it’s time to let your loved one go but you never truly are ready to say goodbye.

Cathy Goodchild