This blog was originally published in December 2022. It has been updated by the original author to include their most recent experiences.
When a loved one has an incurable cancer diagnosis, it can be hard to avoid thinking about what events might be 'the last time'. The last holiday season. The last birthday. The last anniversary. Macmillan’s and the Online Community are both here to help you through what may be the hardest days and weeks of the year.
Wee Me’s husband was diagnosed with a Glioblastoma brain tumour in September 2020. She has previously shared her experience as a carer and family member on Community News. In today’s blog, Wee Me is talking about how she’s learned to navigate and cope with those potential 'last times'.
“My husband’s initial prognosis in September 2020 was that he had 12-15 months left with us. The question ''is this the last…?'' reared its scary head several times during those all too quick months.”
The festive season will be upon us before we know it and, along with all the tinsel and glitter, for some it will bring the dark spectre of being “the last.” That’s a thought that’s beyond hard to process…
I was introduced to “the lasts” a very long time ago when I was about 10 or 12 years old. One Christmas Day, my dad suggested I make the most of having my gran there for Christmas as it might be her last, saying she wasn’t getting any younger. At that point she was about 80 years old. She lived to be 102 years old. Move the clock forward to late August 2020, when my husband was first diagnosed with a stage 4 brain tumour, and you reach the start of my most recent relationship with “the lasts.”
One week after his initial diagnosis, it was our silver wedding anniversary. Would it be the last one? Three days after his surgery, it was my husband’s birthday. Would it be the last one? Three months after his diagnosis, it was our son’s birthday. Would it be the last family birthday? My husband’s initial prognosis in September 2020 was that he had 12-15 months left with us.
The question “is this the last…?” reared its scary head several times during those all too quick months. As a family of four, we celebrated Christmas, birthdays and another wedding anniversary. I found I was tearing myself apart and almost ruining the day each time for myself by fretting it would be “the last” time. Something had to change, otherwise I risked destroying the good memories of family occasions that we were making, or at least trying to make. That something was ME.
Now, I’m not saying I suddenly turned into a party animal. That is SO not me! It was more subtle. It was a mindset change. My lightbulb moment came in the run up to last Christmas, when I realised that I was walking round Tesco in floods of tears just because I’d put the Christmas turkey crown in my trolley for perhaps our last family Christmas.
A wee voice in the back of my mind said “Get a grip, girl. It’s only a frozen turkey!” It was the emotional jolt I needed. It wasn’t the “last Christmas”. It was simply Christmas that may or may not prove to be the last we would celebrate as a family of four. After all, I’d thought Christmas the year before would be the last.
I tend to be super organised and had started food shopping several weeks early, partly to spread the cost. (Ok, it was October but there had been talk on the news of a turkey shortage and I had Clubcard vouchers and well… they had a turkey crown the size I needed!) Week by week, taking the preparations one step at a time, I bought “Christmas.” I took it all at my own pace, trusting that I’d get it all done on time. If I was having a bad day/week, I didn’t pick anything up. Gradually, all the usual plans and preparations fell into place.
Ok, I may have cheated slightly to avoid going into some small local boutique shops, where folk knew me and the situation at home. I shopped via their websites to avoid awkward, emotionally fuelled conversations that I didn’t feel I had the strength for. Part of me felt as if I was being a coward; part of me recognised that I was doing the best I could and that that was absolutely fine.
“It wasn’t the ''last Christmas''. It was simply Christmas that may or may not prove to the last we would celebrate as a family of four.”
In the end, we had a lovely Christmas Day. Santa was good to everyone. My parents joined us for dinner. There were no dramas. Yes, there were a few quiet tears when I had a bit of a wobble as I put the soup on to heat but it was just Christmas…and the turkey was delicious even if I do say so myself.
Like everything connected to a cancer journey, there’s no right or wrong way to celebrate or not celebrate (and that’s ok too) potential “lasts”.
Take it one step at a time.
“Adjust your traditions to fit the situation”
Adjust your traditions to fit the situation if they are going to prove a seemingly impossible challenge. An example of that is that we traditionally play board games as a family over the festive period. Yes, we are the family who usually play Monopoly and Trivial Pursuit (sad but true!) Those games are now too much of a challenge for my husband, so we swapped them out for Jenga and Kerplunk (I’d forgotten what a pain in the …. setting up Kerplunk was!) and we had just as much fun.
This year I managed to put the turkey crown in the trolley without any tears.
Will this be our last Christmas as a family of four? In the light of recent developments with my husband’s health, it may well be, but it’ll still be Christmas and that’s a time to be enjoyed with family and friends and that’s all we can hope to do.
It can also be a lonely time for some, so please remember that the Macmillan Online Community is still there for you. No one needs to feel alone this Christmas. We’re still here to listen and support you. Those virtual hugs are still available too…they may just leave you with a few specks of glitter though.
“This year will be our third Christmas since George died. Will there still be tears? Probably. But you know what? That’s ok.”
It’s three years since I wrote my blog about “the lasts” and Christmas 2022 was indeed our last Christmas as a family of four. George died peacefully at the end of October 2023 so there was time for another round of “last” birthdays. In the end, we each had three “last” birthdays (he had four) and we had three “last” Christmases.
When it came to Christmas and putting up the tree in 2022, I’ll confess to having had a bit of a monumental meltdown. We had had the same artificial tree every Christmas that we had lived together. It was bought in 1993 so the tree didn’t owe us anything and still looked fabulous despite its age. As I tried to assemble it in December 2022, the tree broke.
The plastic plug that held the top section to the middle section crumbled into pieces as did I. In the midst of parts of tree and boxes of decorations, I sobbed my heart out. I just needed it to hold together for one last Christmas! My son and a roll of duct tape came to the rescue and between us we got the tree pieced together. It was a bit squint at the top but it was up!
Roll forward twelve months and with the festive season approaching, I knew I had to invest in a new tree and begin new traditions. Still raw with grief and exhausted from the whole three-year Glioblastoma journey, my son and I went to the local garden centre to buy a new artificial tree. He insisted that the new tree had to be taller than him. (He’s 6’1”) I chose a lovely new 7’ tree.
Without a thought once I’d paid for it, he put the box on his shoulder to carry it back to the car. That perhaps wasn’t his smartest move emotionally as it triggered memories of helping to carry his dad’s coffin into the crematorium. Those moments can sneak up when you least expect them.
A couple of days later I decided to tackle putting the tree up. I still had the old broken one that had seen us through every family Christmas (put back up the loft just in case we had a fourth last Christmas). That tree had pinecones wired onto its branches and the new one didn’t so I decided to save the pinecones and wire them onto the branches of the new family tree – my new tree.
"Those tiny 30-year-old pinecones along with the existing decorations ensured that just enough of the family traditions transitioned into the “life after” traditions."
It took a fair bit of effort and cost me a few layers of skin and there were more than a few tears but I got them transferred. Those tiny 30-year-old pinecones along with the existing decorations ensured that just enough of the family traditions transitioned into the “life after” traditions. Some new baubles from my travels in the USA have been added too.
This year will be our third Christmas since George died. Life moves on. Traditions change. My daughter will spend Christmas Day with the dog and her partner and his family (her dog and my cats are not a good combination and certainly wouldn’t be a good combination with a Christmas tree!). I’ll see them on Boxing Day instead.
So, this year, like the last couple, it’ll be my son and I and my parents on Christmas Day and that’s absolutely fine. Will there still be tears as I heat the soup or carve the turkey (yes, the turkey crown has been in the freezer since October), probably but you know what, that’s ok.
We’d like to thank Wee Me once again for sharing her experiences with us this festive season. If you are facing a celebration which might be your last with your loved one, you’re not alone. You can find comfort and support from talking to others who understand how you feel. The Online Community is here for you.
Alongside writing for Community News, Wee Me is also a Macmillan volunteer here on the Online Community. You can find Wee Me (and other Online Community members going through similar situations) in our dedicated forum groups:
Read more from Wee Me on Community News:
Read more blogs about the festive season:
