M is in hospital to try to control his pain. Maybe that's the good bit. The bad is that the pain has been horrific and the meds to try to control it have been worse. The cancer has now spread to his sacrum, the base of the spine, leading to intense pain in the sacral nerve which I know is incredibly difficult to control. He was given increasingly larger doses of MST and Sevredol which caused terrifying hallucinations…
And I do. I miss my big, strong man. I miss the intimacy.
The illeostomy, the second stoma, the real change in his body image, means he doesn't touch me now other than in that long distance, holding hands thing. No more big hugs, no more lying together, draped around each other, Just no more the skin contact: the ease, the comfort with each others' bodies, is just gone. Nobody talks about this at all. Or maybe…
M started his radiotherapy yesterday. Shared the waiting room with a couple where the male half had the same type of tumour and surgery as M. Difference is, he had seen a competent doctor in the beginning so his diagnosis and treatment were fast and his chances are good. Really chatty people till I told them M's condition is terminal. Sudden lull in the conversation then.
Having people who are terminal and those…
The day before yesterday, the oncologist told us the biopsy on the "suspicious" spot in M's hip shows cancer cells from his primary bowel tumour. The curse of being a nurse is that she doesn't have to say any more. I know immediately: I'm going to lose him.
I've lived with this fear for over a year. I knew it was coming - have done since I realised that damned doctors had missed the diagnosis…
