My husband was the old fashion sort with integrity & honour. For a man with such dignity the worst place to get skin cancer ( open sores spreading,weeping & bleeding) was in the groin. The sores followed the "knicker line" starting inside the top of his legs and he endured the embarrassment and pain of having them dressed every day. We were retired and together virtually all day every day & I was kept busy caring for him at home. After he died I think everything seemed surreal and of course there were lots of wellwishers and things to do, paperwork etc. I think family (mine not his) with their busy lives children etc have sort of got to the point of moving on and think that Im coping, which is probably my fault as I cant bear to see the fleeting exprension of "oh dear its that subject again" Dont get me wrong they still say all the right things but its a sort of sensing the "lets talk about something more cheerful" So I put a smile on my face and nod when they ask if Im ok. But I cant stop crying and im so miserable, what is the point anymore, Im just waiting for my turn so we can be together again.
