Are friends and family ever enough?

FormerMember
FormerMember
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Andrew, who began this thread, sadly died in September 2008, but his friends wished that his thread remain open in his memory, particularly to promote Andrew's idea of 'dancing away cancer' each Friday at 3pm. Please feel free to post your dance tunes every Friday in his memory.


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Hello everyone,

this is my topic to start and its a question that has been burning around the back of my mind for the last few days.

I always thought that having a small group of very close friends was enough for anyone, ok you always have work colleagues and other acquaintances but the main group of my friends has remained within a steady little group of five people for nigh on the last twenty years. We have shared almost, if not all, of what life can show you over that period and nothing has every served to tear us very far apart for long.

There have always times when partners/other friends/own family have been more important to us and always been times when we are more important to each other and perhaps have taken some of this for granted and assumed that it will always be thus. I have reached the opinion that I have for certain.

Then you get cancer! Things change I suppose but I have cancer and all of a sudden things are important to me that weren't before and they have an impact on others which were not anticipated.

First I need to say that my friends have been great through this initial part of my illness and there is nothing to say that this position is going to change immediately - rather its me that seems to be changing and not them. I am having doubts about my ability to cope with what is happening to me and what may happen in the immediate future, I am doubting my friends willingness to hear what I have to say when they ask that questions each day "How are you?", I don't want to say "OK thanks" each time when I am not OK,

I want to say "it bloody hurts" and "I don't feel well at all" and "I think its really unfair that I have this disease and you don't" (that one really stings in your head and even if its not at all true, sometimes you can't help yourself thinking it even fleetingly).

Then after that I get guilty about having the disease and having those bad thoughts that seem to go along with it all. I keep thinking that I am asking too much of them now in terms of emotional and physical help and what if their well runs dry later when I need them even more than I do now and they have nothing left to give me. Then I think that that is a really selfish "me, me me" attitude to have and that gets me really down - can you be guilty about a guilty thought which in itself is only a selfish thought about feeling guilty - just how big a knot is that one to unravel.

Anyway before I drive all away completely with this "hymn to the depressed" that brings around the original thought I had;

- can you use up and wear out your friends and family with this thing before you need them most?

Thanks for reading (if you managed to get through the dirge without laughing too much) and any thoughts are appreciated.

Cheers

Andrew



  • Christine, that's great, good to hear from you!

    3pm today, it's Dance the c**p out of cancer time.....

    my tune, well, it's an oldie but a good one,.....Queen, 'Bohemian Rhapsody'

    Moomy

  • FormerMember
    FormerMember in reply to moomy

    Hello all,

    Lovely to hear from Christine. I'm glad things are going well for you. For me, it's been an incredibly busy week and I haven't had time for much beyond work. Hopefully things will slow down a bit soon.

    My song for today is 'Stuck In The Middle With You' Stealer's Wheel.

    Have a lovely weekend all.

    love, Anne.x

  • FormerMember
    FormerMember in reply to FormerMember

    Happy new Year Christine - and to everyone else in our dance 'group'.........

    I'm late with my choice today - and as I'm hobbling around just now I've chosen to sit on the sidelines and listen to 'Bolero' played by the wonderful Andre Rieu......and remember the beautiful ice dance of Torville and Dean..................

    Love and ((hugs)) to everyone

    Dot xxxx

  • FormerMember
    FormerMember in reply to FormerMember

    The will was made and for a short while things perked up a bit. Andrew's pain was slightly more under control and he managed a couple of days out. His friend hired a wheelchair accessible van and took him for a day out. One day we took him home. Another day he went out to lunch. It was hard. But at least he was out of the hospice for a while.

    But it didn't last long. Slowly but surely he started to shut down. He talked less, did less and seemed to sleep more. The nurses started to have preparatory conversations with me. I knew what they wanted me to acknowledge, but wasn't quite ready to do it just yet. I knew what was starting to happen, and even though common sense told me we were down to weeks, if not days, I wasn't prepared to give up hope entirely. Odd how you find yourself denying all the evidence, however damning it may be.

    We organised a rota so that he had someone visiting every day. We wanted him to know how much he was cared about. One or two people opted out at this point, but I could understand why. Visiting was difficult with someone who didn't talk much, fell asleep at regular intervals and was occasionally in great pain.

    Eventually we learned to take something to keep us busy and to take advantage of more wakeful periods if and when they occurred. I used to take books to mark or a crossword. I'd read out the clues to him. Sometimes he'd even solve one.

    One Thursday I noticed one of his feet was very swollen. Odd seeing as he hadn't been out of bed for at least ten days. He was catheterised and his urine was incredibly dark. I asked the nurse what was going on, and unusually she sort of ducked the question. I didn't think much more about it at the time.

    I was next due to visit on Saturday. About 9 o'clock on Friday evening the phone rang. It was a doctor at the hospice. I listened to what he was saying. It seemed unreal, somehow. But I got in the car and headed off to the hospice, 

  • FormerMember
    FormerMember in reply to FormerMember

    So, here was the moment I'd been rehearsing for. When I got to the hospice it was about 10pm. They'd left the gates open for me and when I got to the door someone was there ready to open it. A nurse walked me down the corridor. I think she was telling me what to expect, but I wasn't really listening. When I got to his room I took one look and knew there was no coming back from this one.

    There's a sort of look, an air about someone who's close to death that I'd come to know after spending so much time in hospitals and hospices. It wasn't there the last time I'd seen him, but it was there now.

    He was hovering around unconsciousness, but when I said hello, he sort of smiled. They'd put a big reclining chair at the side of his bed, so I sat down in it and began to talk. I spoke of everything I could think of that was positive and good in our lives and his, the funny things, the achievements, the successes. I don't know how much he heard and understood, but if there was any last thoughts and memories there, I wanted them to be good ones.

    Every so often he'd have a bout of semi-wakefulness and anxiety, but mostly he was barely there. Eventually he lapsed into almost total unconsciousness. At times I went for a short walk. I talked to other patients and staff. One thing about hospices, there's always someone awake and wanting to talk.

    At about 5:30 am he was totally asleep/unconscious and I decided to go home to feed the animals. I returned two hours later to find him still in much the same state. Richard and Chris, two of his closest friends were there. I'd texted them earlier, letting them know what was happening. Together, the three of us waited for the inevitable.

    Eventually they both had to leave. I was grateful for their presence, but sort of relieved they wouldn't be there at the very end. I can't really explain that, but I felt that dying is a very personal sort of thing, in the category of things you can ask of family, but not necessarily of friends.

    As I sat there, his breathing became slower and more laboured. I talked again of many things. there were no responses, but I like to think he could hear.

    Then there were longer breaks between breaths. Every time I would hold my breath as well, waiting for him to start again. Inevitably there came a time when I breathed again and he didn't. I watched him for a while and then pressed the buzzer for the nurse.

    The thought that was mostly with me at the time was relief that his death was so peaceful after all that drama he'd been through. So quiet, so gentle. And I remain so grateful for that.

  • And, Anne, you were there......I too am glad Andrew's passing was gentle and peaceful, your talking gave him much comfort, I am certain.

    Folks, it's Friday and again the chance to 'Dance the c**p out of cancer' 

    My tune today has to be a calm and peaceful one to echo Anne's description of Andrew, so I'm again turning to Carol Jarvis' CD, 'Smile' and the track which has both our children on their own, no backing musicians this time, just trombone and piano, 'Sang Till Lotta' 

    Moomy

  • FormerMember
    FormerMember in reply to moomy

    hi all

    there's a lovely little song called 'sea gull' by Paul rodgers...

    for anne.....

    and others in grief today...

    I'll dance the c88p out of cancer.....

    jackie xx 

  • FormerMember
    FormerMember in reply to FormerMember

    Hello Anne

    My thoughts are with you and I am so glad that Andrew's passing was a peaceful occasion with you by his side talking about all the good things that have happened in your life together.  That in itself was a blessing for both of you.

    As for dancing - there is a beautiful song by Amy Macdonald called Road to Home.  Today that song is for you and Andrew.

    Much love,

    Nin xxxx

  • FormerMember
    FormerMember in reply to FormerMember

    Thanks for your comments, everyone. I was dreading writing about Andrew's death, but in the end it was easier than I thought it would be.

    My song for today is Paul Simon's 'Hearts and Bones'

    Have a lovely weekend everyone.

    love, Anne.x

  • FormerMember
    FormerMember in reply to FormerMember

    Dear Anne,

    Thank you for sharing Andrew's journey with us all, it must have been so difficult for you dear lady.One enormous, heartfelt and understanding of ((((((((hugs))))))))

    My song for today, (Sorry it is a sad one) 'The Prayer' Celine Dion and Josh Groban. http://youtu.be/jhxIjRO6WjI For Andrew, Anne and all of us that have lost those we love so much.Love

    Maryxxxxx