Hi Anneeh

your horrible journey ended 3 years ago. Ours began 3 years ago. Ended June 19th 2011 [fathers day]

Know what you have been/are going through.

love jmd xxx

Hi Anneeh,

Thanks so much for sharing................I am following your story. I lost my husband this august and it seems to help me reading on here every day. It sounds like you were a fantastic sister !

Keep writing, sending you good wishes,

Love Denise x

Denise, thanks so much for reading. You send things out into the ether and you never quite know if you're talking to yourself or not.

Reading my last post back, I do seemed to have made myself sound pretty saintly! I can assure you that there were also moments of resentment and raging self pity in and amongst, as well as hope and despair and exhaustion. I'll skip over the 'conversation' that ensued when he criticised my ironing!

Much sympathy for your own loss. I also found this site a great comfort. Somehow it does help to know you're not the only one going through these awful times.

love, Anne.x

Thank-you jmd. So sorry for your loss. I do know how hard it is. Three years on, I still miss him. Writing this has helped me develop a sort of perspective. I certainly couldn't have written word one for quite some time after his death.

Thank-you for reading.

love, Anne.x

In memory of Andrew, my tune today (and I'm early for once), once again is 'Smile' the title track from Carol Jarvis' CD. (such a proud Mum, and she is doing ok) 

Anne, I am really appreciating your posts......

Thank-you for saying that, Moomy. Much appreciated.

I will have to admit defeat. I simply cannot post before 3pm. My timetable has no slack in it on Fridays. So apologies Andrew, but some time on Friday evening will have to do.

My song for Friday is 'Little Sister' by Ry Cooder.

Have a lovely weekend.

love, Anne.x

When the phone rings at certain times of the day, you just know it's not going to be a pleasant call. At just past 9am, I knew it wasn't a social call. Nobody who knows me would ring before 11am. I don't do mornings very well.

It was the hospice. Andrew had become very poorly during the night. His condition had continued to deteriorate and eventually they had decided to transfer him to hospital. And, ominously, could I get there as soon as possible. Really don't like it when people say that. I set off.

When I got to the hospital, I went to the enquiries desk and gave my name and his. I expected to be told to sit down and wait, but instead the lady at the desk got straight up and asked me to follow her through a door marked private. My fear levels were rising by the second.The door led to a sort of corridor full of trolleys and wheelchairs. At the far end there were a few chairs. I was told to sit there and someone would come to see me shortly. By now I was expecting to be told that he'd died.

Then another door opened and a nurse came out. She came and sat down beside me with one of those dreadfully concerned expressions on her face. She told me that he was very poorly and that he had some sort of infection. He was delirious and hallucinating and I should prepare myself.

I didn't take much more of it in, I was so glad he was still alive. I followed her into the bay. There he was, on a trolley, looking very poorly indeed. I approached with great concern. When I got near to him I said his name. He opened his eyes and said "Where the fuck have you been? I've been waiting ages!"

Funnily enough I was temporarily very relieved at this greeting. He was alive and swearing! When he then went on to ask me to pass the scissors I had hidden and release him quickly so that he could join the Japanese invasion of Paris, I was less relieved.

A nurse came in and asked lots of questions, including was this mental state normal for him. No, not normal, I replied. She went away and I had a conversation about cameras, which I was informed I was missing the point of. Then a (very young) doctor arrived and asked me to step outside. I was greeted by a number of people including the nurse I had previously spoken to. They all had very concerned expressions on their faces.

After five minutes of beating around the bush, they finally came round to asking if I'd considered the cancer may have spread to his brain? Of course the thought had crossed my mind, but I really did not think this was the case. My friend Carole had had that happen to her and in her case the symptoms had come on gradually, starting with a loss of emotional control and some short term mermory deficits. This seemed way too sudden to me.

I mentioned previous episodes of confusion he had had when he'd overdone the medication, and when he'd had a urine infection. They all seemed doubtful, but agreed to tests. In the meantime he would be admitted.

My song for today is for my Dad - it's one year since he passed away.........Jim Reeves 'But you love me Daddy'........... My sisters and I used to sing it to Dad when we wanted to get our own way!!!!!!