Wicked game

It hell I know, been there, still there. 

Your little poem at the end was beautiful 

Xxx

Hi Dalia I also seem to be going backwards reliving the last hours it is horrendous and very tiring especially as you have to put in the happy face at work or as near happy as you can I'm worn out by bed time just putting on an act

Dalia  I totally understand. My partner died at home on 20th November, 10 weeks today.  I have had those last night horrors as well. She became extremely agitated with what the nurses called Terminal Agitation. I had to call them out to her twice to sedate her and I felt at the time I was giving them permission to kill her! A totally irrational idea but I knew it was the beginning of the end.  She was 52 and like your partner had been fit and healthy and took care of herself.  she was diagnosed back in may with bowel cancer but we whete assured it was curable but 'it' decided different and basically took over.  This was never going to be the way it was ...I am ten years old and it would be her burying me!!!! 

How people do carry on, return to some kind of normal is beyond me.  I cant see a future...I dont want a future without her. we had so many plans for when she left the service in two years time. 

I feel like I am on a giant rollercoaster....one day coping and the next falling apart over the smallest of thing.  I dont have any friends who have lost their partner.....yes maybe they have lost a parent, I also lost my mum 18 months ago and that was torture or so I thought but losing Diane has taken pain, desperation, loneliness, bleakness to a whole new level. Everyday feels like a waiting game.....waiting to be with her again.....to focus on anything else is neigh on impossible. 

Sandra x

Dear all 

I'm beginning to believe that those of us left behind,  along with our distressing memories, expected too much of ourselves,  and in our current grief those expectations are now magnified beyond the realism of the situation as it stood at the time. Thats when the guilt will try to set in - as false as it is. And of course the more intense your love the worse those memories, feelings and emotions bite.I'm terrible for beating myself up for making bad choices, or feeling I could have helped more when all any of us can do is our best. This need for impossibly high standards from myself has been a curse all my life although it did enable me to achieve great things.My good friends we can't fight nature.It has a way of controlling us despite our best of intentions. It was the natural course of events that took our loved one away and in a vile fashion we had no control over. At least that's the logical and intellectual response. But as we are all now aware our feelings and emotions don't match this. They prod and stab at us in an  unmerciful fashion. Perhaps in biblical terms this is symbolised by God and the Devil. Take care everyone. It's a hard and ruthless road we are treading. And goodness knows how long this living hell will last.

Love and Light 

Geoff

Dalia, believe me, I know so very well those kind of thoughts and feelings that you describe. For months after Paul died, I wasn't able to not remember the last hours of his life: the hospital room, the sounds around us, Paul drifting in and out of consciousness, my telling him that it was okay to let go and him saying that he felt he would be a bad person to but then agreeing with relief "because I know now that I can let go when the pain gets too bad", the long hours during the night when he was trying again and again to get up and go to the bathroom and didn't understand why I held him back until I eventually explained to him in a way that he could understand that he had a catheter and didn't have to go, the changing of his breathing and the audible breathin on every outbreath, the confusion and disorientation, the last touch, the last kiss, my hand on his chest when his heart stopped beating... I went through this so much and for so long in my mind that I was sometimes afraid of going crazy, I certainly felt so tired and drained from all that futile mental activity. But it wasn't futile actually, because, eventually, the thoughts became less opressive, I was able to think of other things as well, remember the good times, etc. But still to this day - and this is what I am trying to say with it all - I have moments and even days when I think of it all again and it causes me distress and sadness and sometimes even tears. I am sorry that you had such a bad couple of hours last night. How are you today?

Love, Mel.

Mel,

Your post brought tears to my eyes but also some comfort. The way you described your last night was very similar to my Diane's.  She became so agitated desperate to go to the toilet, her sister and I tried to restrain her but she fought us with a strength of an ox. I had to tell her sister to let her go and I held her hands as she pushed me.  it is something that dwells on my mind and then as you said the change in breathing. My nurses told me it was terminal agitation but I had never heard of it before and it was so distressing.

thank you for sharing,

sandra

Thank you all so much for your lovely, supportive messages. It's been a hard night and I had to stay at home today as I couldn't go to work after crying most of the night. I feel a bit calmer now, thank you Mel for asking. I also hope that my thoughts about that night will become less oppressive in the future.I suppose until that happens I just have to find the way to deal with it somehow.

Thank you all so much

 Dalia xx

It's the breathing that stands out for me. As my husband had Fallen into a coma, they sedated him to prevent any agitation when they had to clean and change him. On the last day it was painful to watch him struggling to breathe. His face was peaceful so I don't know to what extent he suffered. I don't think we'll ever forget the last moments.

Despite everything, despite the horror of it all and the horror of his not being here, I'm happy I was there, that I saw it all and that I was by his side, whether he knows it or not. The images, today, are a bit less vivid for me, though they remain painful. For me, it's constant turmoil: memories of the illness mixed with happy ones; the stress and loneliness that is my life today and, as Geoff relates in another post, the questioning and guilt.

I don't cry as much as before (it's now over a year) but the grief is like lead on my soul. It weighs me down and it has changed me. Of course, I've had some good times and some good laughs since my husband's death, but I just can't seem to see the light.

All I can say to you for whom it's been about 6 months or earlier, is that some of the harshness will dissipate and it will soften somewhat. Do all the crying, howling, fretting, moaning and groaning that you need to do because that's how we get it out of our system and don't let anybody tell you the contrary.

Hello,  am new to this site. I lost my husband 10 years ago to oaesophageal cancer. All of the issues described I have gone through. We all share similar experiences. 

When my late mum said to me that the pain would get easier, I shouted her down in disbelief. I think what she meant to say was we learn to adapt to it, because what choice have we got. So I know  we never forget our loved ones, but we adapt to loosing them. We do this in keeping the memories at the forefront of our minds, which allows us to begin the process of healing. 

Remember grief stabs at our insides, and the pain and tears  are unbearable. Grief does not have any time line it's different for each individual. But believe me there is light at the end of the tunnel. But during those dark days we are the ones left behind analysing our actions. So dark thoughts rise above rational thinking. 

Everyone of us did the very best we could for our loved ones. But during this time our grief strangles our belief in what we actually did, and replaces it  with negative thoughts. 

I lost my husband a couple of weeks after his 54th birthday. Four years after I was diagnosed with Ovarian Cancer. Fortunately, after an hysterectomy for another condition, I told them to take my ovaries. If I had not I would not have known about the cancer until it was too late. I thank God every day for this. 

I have not been well with recurrent chest infections and had a CT scan done Friday because have been lacking in energy and lethargic. Hence, my Consultant ordered a CT scan last week, and I heard last night its clear. 

I can tell you now I talk to my husband every day, laugh at his Corney jokes embedded in my memory. I now feel that I am beginning to live again. But it's been a painful journey. 

Crazy bird xx

guilt I felt, the anger and all the emotions described. He

Thank you so much for sharing your experience. I'm also gald and relieved for you that you got the all clear. You've been through a lot, yet you tell us there is light. It will take us time to find it but what you say is reassuring. You made me smile when you confessed to speaking to your husband everyday. For sure, the memories will never die and a part of them will always remain alive for us.

I've been listening to a podcast; it's an interview with the author of It's Okay That it's not Okay. I do feel vindicated, in a way. If you have some time, listen to it. I think everyone here will relate to what she's saying and will find some comfort. Here's the link:  content.blubrry.com/.../PD05389W_Megan-Devine.mp3