Marianne's declining health - 1956

Life continued for the Turners mostly happily. In late 1954 Patrick opened up his newly renovated and extended Kenilworth Row Surgery and Maternity Home. He was immensely proud of his new, modernized facilities, allowing him to provide yet better care to expecting and delivering mothers. Although it meant yet more work for him, Patrick was happy to finally be able to provide exactly the kind of care service he had envisioned for Poplar ever since he had taken over the surgery.

Apart from Patrick's busier schedule, the Turners lived their everyday life in Poplar without any major events interfering. Timothy excelled at school and turned out to be a talented piano and violin player. Marianne was finally back on her feet. She was one of the most popular teachers at her school and even though she still terribly missed her best friend Barbara, she had made a few new friends in an evening French class she attended weekly.

Then, in late spring 1956, Marianne began to suffer from back pain. At first it only occurred sporadically and never lasted long. But it slowly got worse. She assumed it was a sign of ageing as she was now 42 years and spent a lot of her time sitting at little crunched at her piano.

One Saturday, all three Turners went to buy a new school uniform for Timothy who kept outgrowing his clothes in an astonishing speed. Patrick had noticed that Marianne walked with a slight limp and repeatedly asked how she felt.

"It is nothing, I just sprained my ankle a little", she tried to conciliate him – but Patrick could sense that she was clearly in pain and not telling him the whole truth.

Later that day, Marianne had scheduled an afternoon rehearsal for the Poplar Children's Choir since the preparations for the annual summer fete were in full swing again. They were in the middle of the rehearsal in the Parish Hall when a sudden wave of pain struck Marianne so hard she cried out and had to lie down flat on her back because this was the only position allowing her to bear the pain.

The children were confused and unsure about what to do. Luckily, Fred Buckle was also at the Parish Hall, preparing the Cubs meeting scheduled to begin right after choir practice. When he heard Marianne cry, Fred immediately rushed into the main hall and sent one of the older children to fetch Dr. Turner. Then he ushered the other children out, making sure the older ones watched the younger ones. Unfortunately, Patrick was out at a case, so Fred sent the boy that had been to the surgery out again, to Nonnatus House this time, with instructions to return with either a nurse or one of the Sisters.

When Patrick finally arrived at the Parish Hall, Nurse Franklin, a young nurse who had begun working at Nonnatus House two months ago, was already tending to Marianne. Marianne tried to hold back her pain but Patrick could see how much she was suffering, despite her affirmation that he should not worry. With the help of Fred and Nurse Franklin, Patrick got her into his car and drove her to The London Hospital, but only after Marianne had asked Fred to please watch Timothy after the cubs meeting should they not be back by then.

When the Turners arrived at the hospital, Marianne was immediately taken for tests while Patrick stayed back in the waiting area. After almost three hours and half a packet of cigarettes, a nurse came to fetch Patrick and inform him that the doctor wanted to speak to him. Dr. Hartman, a specialist in internal medicine who had examined Marianne, tried to be open with Patrick.

"We ran some preliminary tests. From what I know now I cannot give you a final diagnosis, though. From her records I know that your wife has a history of cancer and I am afraid her cancer may be back. I am going to refer your wife to see my colleague Dr. Masterson who specializes in bone cancer. He will only be in next Monday and we will need to keep Mrs. Turner here for a few days."

Patrick swallowed hard. He had always known that there was a strong likelihood that the cancer might return, that is, the GP in him had known. The husband and father, however, had always been in denial. Too dreadful was the outlook of the possible implications.

When Patrick broke the news to Marianne, he tried hard to hide his concern and maintain an optimistic façade. Marianne, however, looked right through him and saw his fear. Like at the time when she first had been diagnosed with cancer, she worried less about her own fate than about that of her husband. She was afraid that her being sick and eventually die would hurt him more than he was able to bear – and this would mean he could not care for Timothy in a way the boy needed.

Marianne refused to stay in the hospital out of concern about Timothy. Since many of the choir children also were attending the cubs meeting, Timothy certainly would be told lots of colourful stories about how his mother had suffered a breakdown.

Dr. Hartman reluctantly agreed to discharge Marianne, his decision helped by the fact that Patrick was also her GP and would be able to administer the pain medication she was prescribed. When they arrived at Fred's that night, Marianne hugged a visibly shaken Timothy. She had been right, of course. From what the other boys had told him, Timothy assumed his mother was half-dead already once his father had arrived to take her to the hospital.

The next day, Marianne planned a picnic, even though Patrick was painfully aware that she had to bite her teeth at every move despite the medication. He was almost moved to tears seeing her wanting to protect their boy. Patrick and Marianne had decided not to tell Timothy about her diagnosis yet; they wanted to see the specialist first, even though both knew without having discussed it that it might well mean that she might die.

When Timothy was asleep that night, Marianne and Patrick sat next to each other on their sofa, held each other and cried the whole evening. They were meant to be a family, for better or worse, until death do us part. Who would have thought death might come so soon. Both were devastated.

Patrick felt desperate and utterly helpless, confronted with his wife's suffering and him unable to heal her. He could not bear the thought of losing her and bringing Timothy up alone. How could he manage? Still, he tried to conceal his worries from Marianne as much as possible. He did not want to worry her – but of course his wife knew how he felt and what he dreaded.

The specialist at the London confirmed what the Turners had already suspected. The cancer was back and had formed a small but dangerous tumour close to Marianne's spine. Because it was too close to the spinal canal, it could not be removed; an operation might result in her being paralyzed or worse.

"How long have I got?" was Marianne's only question for Dr. Masterson after he had informed the couple about his diagnosis. The specialist estimated that she had between six to twelve months left. He then explained that with the growth of the tumour, the pain would get worse and eventually, Marianne would require daily administrations of morphine. She would very likely experience paralysis of her limbs, too.

That night, Patrick and Marianne sat down with Timothy. They had discussed whether to disclose Marianne's prognosis to the boy or not. Both had eventually felt it best to be honest with him. He was a very perceptive child and he would register once Marianne's health would take a turn for the worse. What's more, eventually, a nurse would have to tend to his mother and they wanted to prepare him carefully for what lay ahead for them as a family.

Timothy cried and clung to his mother all evening. He angrily shouted that his father needed to heal mummy, that was what his job was, wasn't it? Without knowing the boy had hit right at the centre of Patrick's own vulnerability, his feeling of helplessness when faced with his wife's diagnosis. Patrick felt unable to comfort his boy and even worse realizing he was not able to do so when soon, he would be Timothy's only parent left.

Adding to the tension that evening, Patrick was called out because of a critically ill elderly lady. Timothy angrily shouted that he wished his father would not come back as he always put his patients before his family. Patrick had heard these words before but never had they stung him as bitterly as that night.

When he returned, close to midnight, Patrick discovered that Timothy was sleeping next to Marianne in their bed. He assumed it had been the only way of calming the boy down and get him to sleep. He sighed, collected his pyjamas and went to sleep in Timothy's bed.

The next morning, breakfast was held in silence with Timothy still angry at his father. After he had entered the kitchen, Patrick had patted Timothy on the head but the boy ducked away and grunted angrily. Marianne had painfully watched Patrick's sadness over being rejected by his son.

"Patrick, please give him some time", she said after Timothy had left for school. "Don't take his words personally. I think he needs to blame somebody when he really knows there is nobody to blame."

Patrick was not so sure Marianne was right. He did take Tim's words personal because he felt the same. He was not there for his family as much as they needed him, he realized. And he would just give anything he had to help Marianne get better but he would never be able to.

After finishing his morning rounds, Patrick stopped at Nonnatus House. In his almost ten years working together with the Sisters, he had learned their daily schedule and usually avoided barging in during prayer or meal times. This day, however, he was oblivious to his resolution until Sister Bernadette opened the door for him and he smelled a stew.

He apologized for having interrupted lunch and asked to see Sister Julienne. Sister Bernadette asked him to wait at her fellow Sister's office and went to fetch Sister Julienne, who had become Superior of Nonnatus House three years ago.

After having politely declined Sister Julienne's offer of tea, Patrick explained his wife's diagnosis and asked for Marianne to be put on the district nursing rota once her condition world get worse which might not be too long. Sister Julienne was deeply affected. She liked Marianne Turner and could see how devastated Dr. Turner was when talking about his wife's illness.

Sister Julienne suggested that she and Sister Evangelina might take over the main roles in caring for Mrs. Turner rather than the nurses. Not doubting the nurses' abilities, Sister Julienne knew that Marianne, unlike her husband, took strength from her faith and would appreciate praying with the Sisters once she would no longer be able to attend church services. Patrick thanked Sister Julienne. He was glad, she had understood what he had only implied, namely that Marianne would need spiritual support next to medical attention – and this was another need he was not able to fulfil.

Over the next weeks, Marianne gradually paced out her various activities in community and church. She resigned from her teaching post and gave up the children's choir, both with a heavy heart. She also informed the vicar that she could no longer volunteer at church activities and told Fred she was no longer able to occasionally help out with cub's meetings. Finally, she hired a housekeeper since she felt too weak to complete her daily chores and wanted to make sure everything was in order for as long as she could control it.

One day in late September Patrick entered his flat and suddenly realized that for some time now, he had been coming home to a silent flat every night. He realized that he would never again listen to Marianne play the piano, a thought almost unbearable. His chest tightened, and he had to gasp for air and force back his tears. He went straight to the bathroom to gather himself, unable to greet his family yet.

Patrick watched himself in the somewhat dusty bathroom mirror. When had his face become so lined? When had his hair grown its first grey strands? He was approaching his fifties rapidly. He had never felt old, and never been self-conscious about his age, but he did so now. He would soon be a widower with a young son. Timothy would soon be an orphan. How was he supposed to look after his son in an appropriate way? How, with his busy work schedule and his many duties? How could he replace the much-loved mother to his boy?

Patrick took in a deep breath and splashed cold water into his face. You must be strong, he thought, facing his image in the mirror. "Get yourself together, you must be strong for the boy and for her," he whispered to his image in the mirror. Then he briefly closed his eyes, swallowed hard and deeply breathed in and out several times before leaving the bathroom and making his way to his wife and son already waiting for him in the living room.

Marianne's health kept deteriorating and by November, she was no longer able to get out of her bed. Sister Evangelina and Sister Julienne now visited twice daily to administer doses of morphine. In between, Sister Monica Joan visited regularly, too, to sit and pray with Marianne.

The Sisters took pity on young Timothy and often brought slices of cake or books on nature or science for him to borrow but hardly were able to cheer him up. No matter how hard they tried, they failed, for there really was nothing in the world to cheer up a boy who was about to lose his mother.

Patrick tried to remain calm and professional and for the most part managed well. If he had learned one thing during his twenty years of working as a doctor, it was to control himself in any situation. Only very rarely he was on the brink of letting his emotions get the better of him.

Ever since his wife was bedridden and received home visits from the Sisters, Patrick dreaded to meet Sister Evangelina or Sister Julienne when called out to a case. Too closely linked to his pain was their sight. He preferred working with the two young nurses Nonnatus House had employed recently. Bubbly Nurse Franklin whose happy manner often made even difficult situations bearable and compassionate Nurse Miller whose calm approach he found reassuring.

But most of all, he liked working alongside Sister Bernadette. Since she was such a skilled midwife, Sister Julienne and Sister Evangelina had decided that she should take over more responsibilities with Nonnatus House's midwifery services while the former Sisters were involved in caring for Mrs. Turner. Thus Patrick did not associate Sister Bernadette with Marianne's slow dying as closely as he did with the other sisters.

Even though she knew about the state of his wife, being most certainly updated on a daily basis by Sister Julienne, Sister Bernadette did not mention Marianne to him. Other than the two nurses whose pitiful glances he occasionally felt while working alongside them, Sister Bernadette had a remarkable ability of finding the right words and actions in any given situation. She always seemed to know how to lift up his mood and Patrick was grateful for it.

One night, they both were working together at a very difficult birth, which resulted in the death of a mother after delivering a healthy baby boy. When he saw the sobbing husband, the new-born baby in his arm and a wide-eyed young boy of two or three years by his side, Patrick suddenly felt sick to his stomach. He was unable to move and all he could hear was a loud swooshing sound in his ears. Cold sweat covered his skin and he felt as if he might choke. It hit him hard realizing that very soon he would be this man, standing at his wife's deathbed, young son close by.

Had it not been for Sister Bernadette he did not know what would have happened to him that night. She gently managed to get him back to focusing on his task of being the GP on this case with the tiniest of gestures. When she noticed how he stood there, frozen in terror, the young nun approached him carefully and reassuringly squeezed his upper arm. When he looked into her eyes, startled by her touch, the expression of compassion in her eyes directed at him calmed him and brought him back to the ground.

Patrick shivered and shook off the terror. Right now, he was not a husband. He was a doctor and the family of a dead mother needed him. This was not the right time nor space to lose himself in his own grief. Only later that night when he lay next to Marianne in his bed, he allowed himself to cry and let out all the fear he had experienced earlier.

Much later, several months after Marianne's death, Patrick would attend a similarly critical case, again with Sister Bernadette - luckily without any fatalities - when he suddenly remembered that he had never thanked Sister Bernadette for her intervention in that dreadful night months ago.

Mentioning it now, months later, seemed daft to him, and he was afraid of waking the ghosts of terror that should be better left in the dark. But when he reflected on the case he had just tended to as he often did on his way home, his thoughts turned to Sister Bernadette. He pictured her admittedly very beautiful face and wondered why a young woman like her preferred the life of a nun to that of a woman who would certainly be a lovely companion to a devoted husband. What might be her first name, he wondered for the first of many times.