Jean Campbell Robertson 29 Mar 1930 - 17 April 2011

This morning my wonderful mother, Jean Campbell Robertson, died in Kloof Hospital Pretoria.  Her peaceful but sudden death came barely 48 hours after a shock diagnosis of pancreatic cancer.

Mum has been travelling in South Africa, Swaziland and Zimbabwe since leaving Australia with my sister Lyn and brother-in-law Paul on April 2^nd. Today Mum and Lyn were due to arrive in Bukoba to visit Steve and me and to spend a week seeing at first-hand the sights, both beautiful and tragic, that I have been describing to Mum in our weekly phone calls over the eight months I have been working in Kagera .  Instead this morning Lyn and I held her hands as she drifted to the next world.

Paul had rung me in Bukoba on Thursday night from the hospital emergency room to tell us of the doctor’s diagnosis – news horrible to tell and to hear.  Friday I flew to Johannesburg, arriving yesterday morning, after spending more time in departure lounges than in the air.  Lyn and Paul drove me to the hospital where mum had been admitted early on Friday morning.  She was in Intensive Care as doctors attempted to stabilise her blood pressure prior to proposed surgery on Monday to relieve pressure on her pancreatic duct, bile duct and stomach from a large tumour at the head of the pancreas.

When I entered the ward mum, who knew I was coming, beamed and waved weakly.  The short half hour of visiting time was filled with mum, Lyn and me talking about their travels, my work and mum’s medical care.  My mother, an intelligent and pragmatic woman, was actively interested in her treatment and pleased to finally have an explanation for why her body was letting her down just as she was starting the grand adventure she had been planning so long.  She was under no illusions as to likely scenarios.  She told us her wishes if the surgery should be unsuccessful.  We visited again in the afternoon and there had been very little improvement in her condition.  We talked again of work and world affairs, of travel - the power and splendour of Victoria Falls, the grace and beauty of a giraffe, the wonders of the natural world - but also of our shared recollections of over fifty years in a close and loving family, and we said all those things that often are not said when a loved one is dying, to the regret of those left behind.

Ultimately the surgery was not performed.  Saturday evening mum’s lungs became congested following aspiration of fluid she had been trying to drink and that was the final assault on a body already weakened by an aggressive cancer.  At 1:30 am the hospital rang for us to come, medical intervention giving mum her fragile hold on life was slowly ceased and we held her and talked to her as her breathing slowed to a halt and her heart stopped beating. 

The nursing staff then removed all the medical paraphernalia and we were able to sit with mum quietly adjusting to the fact that though her spirit will always be with us this would be our last time spent in her physical presence.

Today has been a long day, starting for us as it did at 1:30 am South African time.  International time differences meant we were able, as soon as we returned to the hotel, to begin ringing family back in Australia with the news and, thanks to Skype, could have long conversations with our brother and children, with mum’s twin sister and with mum’s best friend giving them time to ask all the questions and receive all the answers they needed to understand what had happened. 

We have told our story over and over in the last 14 hours to all the people who loved mum most and who knew her best.  This telling and retelling has in some ways made it ‘real’ though a certain numbness still remains.  Each hearer  has been glad to know that mum was able to have at least part of her greatly anticipated adventure in Africa and that her end was peaceful and spent with two of three who loved her and whom she loved most.  (I’m sorry that you were not here too Cam and that you have had to hear it all in instalments over the telephone.)

Now is not the time to eulogise.  I’m sure my mum’s 81 years will be thoroughly reviewed at a memorial service to be held in Wodonga sometime in May.  Now is the time for me to try to say goodbye to a wonderful woman who has loved me unconditionally, who has been a role model in how to live life fully and without regrets and who I will miss daily each time I think “I must tell mum ...” and “I must ask mum ...”