You could hear Mendelssohn’s wedding march from the end of the corridor. The music was loud and clear, rising above the usual buzz of every day life (and death) on the ward. The prognosis was only “a couple of days” or rather “ a couple for days”. But this did not stop this 44-year-old lady from organising her wedding with the help of her friends and family. TN walked into the hospital with ascites; an unusually large collection of fluid in her abdomen. Though ascities can be the sign of many diseases, TN had a more sinister process spreading in her body without control. Her ovarian cancer could not be held back by chemo or other treatments. The only option was to keep her as comfortable as possible and be as honest as one can be when breaking bad news.

Telling someone that they will not be around to see the next Christmas or hold their first grandchild is never easy. Asking someone to accept that modern medicine has nothing more to offer and that there is not even enough time to seek a second opinion is a hard task. But I found all these years that there is often a single source of energy that makes this responsibility, easier to tackle and softer to tolerate; the dying patients themselves. TN told me bravely “it’s fine”. She held my hand, released a sigh of closure and allowed a scanty trickle of tears to wet her pale cheeks for a few seconds. Every salty drop was washing away some more of her colour. She whispered that she believed in love and that she was determined to march down the aisle and become a wife, even for a few days, even for a few hours.

Two days later, everything was ready. The hospital room was decorated by the nurses and the guests arrived bearing the rings and a chocolate cake. The banting was white and red and formed a ceremonial arch above the hospital bed. TN was dressed in her white hospital gown. The minister delivered the words and the vows echoed the room. She walked down the illusionary aisle supporting herself onto everyone’s imagination. But she didn’t stop. She looked back and smiled. She refused to fly out of her white gown and continued to march on until she disappeared into the light 3 days later. Mendelssohn was still playing at the background.