6 months ago after several years in a failing relationship I finally took the step of leaving a comfortable but unhappy future to start a new life where I could rediscover being me. Got a full time job and bought a house and told my partner that we should still be friends but that we could no longer live together. He was not happy but accepted things. For the first few weeks he seemed to be accepting things and then he started acting weird. We were concerned he was having a bit of breakdown and I tried different ways to cope with him not managing at home and being very needy. Some friends told me to walk away as I had to make him realise I had left but this was impossible to do as he was seriously in need of care. Doctors were useless and when we could get an appointment they diagnosed a UTI and then a lung infection and then depression. He started to develop a lack of coordination on his left side and lost a stone. Finally we got a friend who is a retired doctor to examine him and he was concerned and write a note to our doctor saying he thought a ct scan was urgently needed. Eventually we ended up at A&E and at 8pm last Wednesday he had a scan. At midnight we were given the results showing a brain tumour and they admitted him to have more tests. After 36 hours in hospital they told us that the MRI had shown no more tumours but that we would have to now wait a week for the consultants to tell us more about the tumour.
I had to move back in and we lived in a confusion of him thinking I was back as his girlfriend, terror about the prognosis and side effects from the strong drugs they prescribed. It was the longest week ever and we had no support or anyone to ask questions to except our retired doctor friend.
The following Thursday we were called to attend a meeting at Derriford - an hour and a half drive away - at 2.30pm. Finally some news. We got there and then had to sit for three hours next to a TV blaring out Raiders of the Lost Ark wondering what the hell was going on. At 5.30 the consultant finally saw us. No apologies for keeping us waiting and then a cold clinical delivery of the fact that the tumour was large and aggressive and they wanted to operate the next day. He then had to have various bloods and paperwork submitted and we had to go home to try and sleep and return leaving at 6am the next day for surgery on Friday.
Another long day and I finally got to see him in recovery at 5.30pm before returning home. The next day I am woken at 6am by him phoning from a nurses phone demanding I go and get him because the ward was so noisy and he'd got no sleep. I asked fir a doctor to phone me back but no joy so off I went. By the time I got to the hospital he had calmed down and they had put him in a side room so I got him sleeping and once again returned home. Next morning the same thing - but this time he is talking about just wanting to come home to kill himself. Obviously he's distressed and getting lots of side effects and he was not the Man I know but trying to speak with the actual ward was so difficult. In between all of this I am trying to juggle my own house, a full time job and four cats.
It's less than 48 hours since he had major brain surgery - he has 30 staples in his head - is on seriously strong drugs and we don't know what the biopsy is going to tell us. How could he possibly come home?
Then I get a call from a nurse saying he is going to be discharged. On Christmas Eve with no back up support to rely on. That completely freaks me out and I demand a doctor to call me but guess what. No call.
So I drive there again and be route another nurse calls me and says he has been talking about suicide all night and she will not let him be discharged. Thank god I think.
I arrive at the ward and he races through reception like an excited schoolboy saying it's all down to me now..
I then get to kid by the consultant that he can go home, the nurses all back him up - and my partner is saying please please please don't make me stay here. What could I do? We go back home to start what will be the worst two days of my life.
FormerMember
<p>I guess it's time to tell a little more of this story. So there we are - Brian and I on Christmas Eve - no tree or presents but some bloody great big staples in his head and a shitload of medicines. I was totally freaked out at being responsible for a man who was less than 48 hours over major brain surgery but I thought that he would be tired and wanting rest after such a huge operation. (I know I certainly needed some sleep) How wrong. He had this bizarre energy that made him unable to settle (Which I later found out was due to the steroids) and he insisted on having deep discussions about anything and everything All of which turned into really dark conversations as he could only see the bad side to everything. Tried TV - every programme mentioned death, every news programme mentioned disasters and even the adverts were promoting cancer charities. (Who are wonderful) He couldn't even bear the Sound of Music as it "contained" such dreadful child abuse and nazi connections. At last to bed - but he had hallucinations while trying to get to sleep and I thought I was showing signs of heart failover as my chest hurt so much.
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Christmas Day was much the same - friends and family had all gone back to their normal lives - and as we both went through the motions of saying Happy Christmas we both knew the other was thinking " this is crap" really. The ski jacket I had bought him as a surprise present last month stayed hidden as the skiing trip to France that he's enjoyed with the same two friends for over 20 years each January was not going to happen. Fortunately I was able to cheer him up with some food so as the turkey was still in the freezer at my house - we had roast dinner but with sausages and then tried to play a game of scrabble. No chance. Jigsaw - no chance. And outside it just rained and blew a gale outside so we couldn't even go for a walk. The only shining light through all of this was how quickly he was healing - the surgeon did a brilliant job but just how long would we have to wait to know what the biopsy showed?
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Turns out we weren't going to know until the 10th January so we went through to Boxing Day and spent the days cooking great meals and shopping for more food. All those people jostling in the sales looked so ridiculous buying meaningless things that would just clutter up there cupboards. All of a sudden we both realised how much "stuff" was going to need sorting out.
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<p>We desperately needed to sort the sleep deprivation out though so eventually we got some sleeping pills from the out of hours GP which Brian then refused to take because he thought they might make him wet the bed. Considered dissolving them in his cocoa ... I finally got a friend of his to reassure him on this and looked forward to an evening where the night might be drama free - but 3 hours later he was awake again and practically hallucinating with the fear of what was happening to him. Heavy stuff - which neither of us really had a clue how to handle. So we just kept clinging on to the roller coaster...
