She sat alone at home, brooding about the injustice of her illness, that’s what happened. Physically, she wasn’t doing bad. I mean, she had terminal cancer, so it obviously wasn’t great. But they found medication that was working, the tumors were shrinking. They weren’t going to disappear, but it wasn’t a bad moment in terms of her physical state.
Emotionally, though, she was a wreck. I spent a day with her when I was in Canada over the summer, and I almost got suicidal. Because you can’t be around this kind of a depression without professional training. I have absolutely no idea what could have been done to help her.
In the end, it was the morphine. Yes, you could say she would have died anyway. But it didn’t have to be so soon.