He's doing really well. He feels like complete and utter sh*t but in his own quiet way he has accepted the inevitable. No anger, no regrets, no bitterness. He tells me twenty times a day that he loves me and I love him. He holds my hand whilst I cry, he advises me on my bleak and miserable future without him.

No topic has been off limits. He's so brave. We've sorted general funeral stuff out. We've made decisions about this and that. He doesn't want to die at home because it will upset the dogs ! He has promised to wait for me too so we will be together forever.

I've been in some kind of black hole since we found out. Hyperactive, getting things done around the house. Doing strange and random things with no purpose. I think the reality of it is finally sinking in but whilst he's here in his armchair and grinning at me how can it be real, how can it feel real.

I want to be so selfish now and close the door on everyone but I know he wants to sat his goodbyes too. The joy of being married to a great man.

I want to protect him, nurse him, love him, hold him. We both had such a bad day yesterday I felt so scared, but he's always so damn calm.

I've told him I am worried about being hysterical when it all happens but he is always so bloody sensible. I've just got to keep his words in my aching heart.

We have just been incredibly unlucky with his cancer. It rarely spreads to the place it has. The head and neck nurse says she's only known it happen three times. How sad that is. How utterly utterly sad.

We are under the care of the hospice now and they have been marvellous. For me too, not just for him. I'm sure the community nurse can sense my fear and she's been such great help. All I want to do is talk about the cancer, the cancer, the cancer, the cancer. It fills my head all day and all night. I'm trying to reign it in a little as I know it's not healthy but I need to make sense of it in my head. Nurse is coming round next week to further explain things to me but as it is rare they can't say how it's likely to pan out. I've promised him I will keep him comfortable for as long as possible and we made the difficult decision to have no intervention. It all seems so cold.

I'm sad. Trying to make each day matter puts a great deal of strain on a human being. I'm feeling the strain. It's so damned hard.

How I shall wake each day without his love, comfort, humour and wise counsel I do not know.