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 for at least three years, and that by then he was too unwell for chemo..
But I'm still lost. don't know how I'll live without him. Not convined that I want to.
I'm one of nature's fixers - my first reaction is to DO something. Fix it. but I know this one I can't. but my mind still races with things I can do. I want whatever time he has left to be perfect. I want him to be able to take our grandson to Disney; he's always wanted to go on a cruise; I want to be able to take him out to good restaurants while he's still able to eat. But all of that takes money. How do we get it?
I gave up work last August because I wanted to spend more time with him (having a stroke brought on by the stress of his illness assisted the decision!) My pension fund was to pay for a rental property to give me supplementary income. Should I just spend it instead and to hell with poverty after he's gone. We could cash in M's pension - but only once he has less than a year to live and the oncologist can't give us a timescale yet. Should we sue the NHS? Do we have time to do that?
Thinking about the crass financial realities takes me away from the emotions. if I'm thinking about money, I'm not thinking about loss, and grief and anger. I'm not sitting here alone, weeping trying to keep him from hearing because he has to cope with the cancer. He shouldn't have to cope with my grief and pain as well.
