Terminal adrenal cancer, wife, need to interact with fellow partners … daily thoughts

Doubt thou the stars are fire;

Doubt that the sun doth move;

Doubt truth to be a liar;

But never doubt I love.

Shakespeare

Friday 3 September

I struggle with what to think, I struggle with what to do. The silence is deafening and makes my head throb. How has life come to this. All the memories, good, bad or indifferent jostle for attention, trying to remind me of what life once was but will never be again. 24 hours a day for 18 years how time has passed, but now every day feels like a lifetime alone, a living nightmare. I am losing my soulmate, the person who completes me, the person who knows me, the good the bad and the ugly of me. The person who centres me, the person who calms me, the person for whom I would do anything for but one day soon will no longer need me…..how can this possibly be. I want to be strong, I try to be strong but every day that strength ebbs just a little. My dreams, once vivid, are now a blur. A subconscious confused with how to cope. I love my children, I want to be there for them, for their future, they need me. But yet I worry, I stress and I worry, what father am I now, what father will I be in the aftermath. They are strong but they need me, how do I cope without her, how do I make the right decisions that we would have made together? What about me, death seems all around and I am worried. What if something happens to me, what will this mean for my children as adults. If we have a ticking clock to our deaths at birth, when does mine stop. It can’t be soon, I don’t want it to be soon but there is no control. I need control. I can’t have control. A dichotomy….I want to be there 24 hours a day but yet I feel myself pulling away a little at a time, trying to brace myself, trying to prepare myself, in my head, for the maelstrom ahead that is inevitable. Is this selfish? It is not about me it is about her Katrina, she is the one who is going to lose everything. To never see her children grow and build their own lives and families. Of course it is selfish but then people tell me I need to take care of myself too, to have my periods of respite, to find something to drown out the noise. So what do I do, what do I think, what is right, what is wrong. My head hurts. What was once mundane I would give anything to have again. To sit, not talking, just watching the tv, listening to the radio, sitting in the sun. Now I find little of interest as there is nothing to share, no mutual enjoyment. I can’t concentrate, I can’t sit, I cant be at rest. I am impatient to be doing, but doing what, it’s not like it will change anything. I have cut the grass, cleaned the house, washed the car, they look better, but now what. Alone again with my thoughts, so many fleeting thoughts coming and going. Today is a bad day, today is a better day, today is a good day but what about tomorrow. How to sleep when I just don’t know. What is around the corner, what can I not see, not envisage, not expect. They say expect the unexpected so what does that entail. What have I not already considered. My head hurts.

Saturday 4th September

Having wasted a whole day waiting for a delivery that never arrived I head out with the kids to see Katrina. Stress levels instantly peak the minute I arrive in the room. She has clearly regressed severely again. Is it a change in medication, is it progression of the cancer. With no main doctor in charge over a weekend I will have to wait until Monday to speak with someone. I have not had any stress related acid reflux for a few days and the minute I leave to come home it kicks in with a vengeance. I cannot wrap my head around the peaks and troughs of this situation. A few days ago she seemed clearer, able to talk and move about a little better with her walking aid. Tonight she struggles to explain anything to me, I can sense the frustration she feels and she can sense mine. A simple thing of what sweets to take home from the burgeoning fridge in her room is a 30 minute ordeal. She moans and groans to herself constantly and I can see in my childrens eyes when they look at me…..how is she like this tonight. What has happened in the last few days. The thought of getting her back home with us seemed a relatively imminent event but now I worry if coming home would be in anyone’s best interest. She clearly needs the 24 / 7 care in a more hands on manner than I think I am capable of providing any more. The physical element is fine but I cannot separate the emotional and psychological from the equation and it deeply saddens me. I feel myself getting frustrated with the dilemma, shouldn’t it be an easy yes / no scenario. In a brief lucid moment she talks to me about eggs. The fried eggs they served her the first morning were runny and that was good, the last few mornings they have been hard, that is bad, and then she is back to the muted groans. I try to engage a conversation, albeit about eggs, but that time has now passed. She is fixated on a small patch of water that has been on a paving slab outside since she arrived. I don’t know what to say. I don’t think it has been there all the time but it’s just a patch of water! Should I make more out of it to stimulate more of a response, I just don’t know. The sharp, decisive, legal mind that was once present seems all but gone now, is that the medicine, is that the cancer. All scans seem to show nothing erroneous in this respect. I go feeling motivated, I leave feeling entirely drained. In the car I engage the kids, ask how they perceive the situation, they don’t want to talk. I am thus left again with my own thoughts and my head hurts. I already feel half of a whole, how will I feel to be eternally incomplete. Today is a bad day!