Nov 212016
 

I did not post last night because we had some bad news.

Not about me, it’s one of my wife’s friends who we met during an early checkup.   He had multiple secondaries, so they offered him chemo, to try and shrink them. We’ve just had a text from his wife to say the chemo  did not work and he is now heavily sedated on palliative care in the Christie. They have a young child, who now will lose his father.

This is why I do not like people who say things like, “I’m sure you’ll come through” or “You must not consider losing”.  It’s meant to keep moral up, but when it fails the hurt and the let-down is dreadful, and comes at the one time you and your family are most vulnerable.

I still do not know if I will survive. I checked back this morning at some of the older blogs, and the doctor’s expectations were not good.  My chances are better now, but it is still a throw of the dice. All I have done is improve the odds by stacking the dice. Every scan I will those dice get thrown again.  Is that a hard way to look at it?  I don’t know, I don’t know any other way to face this.

Actually, there is one way to avoid all pain, all grief when loved ones die, or when we face death knowing how much it will hurt those who love us.  Just don’t ever form any connection to anyone.  Live for yourself, care nothing for anyone, that will do it, if that is the kind of life you want.

I decided I wanted to marry my wife  few weeks after we first went out.  I had the worst migraine I had ever had, three days.  For all that time she sat by me, she held my head while I vomitted, and she cared. And I thought if I ever pass up on this girl I’ll be an utter fool. So when I’d finished being sick, and she’d helped me back to my bed, I asked her to marry me, and she said yes.

We’ve had nearly 50 years of joy, but you cannot sign up for joy without also signing up for the end of joy. For me, it looks more likely that I will survive, that we will have more years of joy together, but nothing is sure. For our friend the grief is now.  And so last night we grieved.

One last thing I should mention. My wife’s choir are putting on a concert to raise money for MacMillan Nurses and Cancer research.  It’s tomorrow (22 Nov) at Didsbury Baptist in Manchester, 2pm to 4:15pm. Amongst a lot of other stuff they are singing two of my translations from Welsh, Calon Lan (the one Russell Watson recorded) and Men of Harlech. So I’m going.  Apparently the choir want to see me.

 Posted by at 12:51 pm

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