It is 7 p.m. on April 23, 2023. My mother is leaving us, swept away by a devastating pulmonary embolism caused by cancer that has been ravaging her right lung for more than a year.
My guide, my beacon, my great friend is gone forever.
My family and I could have written every word of the letter addressed to Minister Dubé by actress and director Micheline Lanctôt.
My mother knew this system.
This system that does not communicate. Or wrong. This system that does not listen. Or little. This system that does not consider. Or not enough.
Humanity is sorely lacking in the healthcare system. And yet, it should be the heart of it.
One evening, during a particularly difficult hospitalization at the start of treatment, a nurse understood the fear that haunted my mother. He chooses to accompany her in taking her medication and calms her, until she finally falls asleep. A first night’s sleep in days. This will be the starting point of an ascent that will have allowed my mother to live a few months of respite and happiness.
Humanity and sensitivity bring hope. They are the ones that soften the harshness of the disease. Whether the outcome is the desired one or not, this sweetness is a balm that recognizes the patient’s dignity and his need to leave our world surrounded by delicacy.
My family and I witnessed too few acts of humanity during my mother’s illness. However, they are the ones who, engraved in our memory, soothe the sadness and helplessness that have inhabited us since his departure.
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