The grieving process goes on

Well, I got through the weekend OK. The 26th was his birthday. He would have been 57.

I HATE CANCER.

Today, the 30th, is the first day I had a full breakfast or breakfast at one sitting. A glass of OJ, half a tin of grapefruit segments, 2 Waitrose version of Weetabix, 1 slice of toast and marmalade. Not a lot, I know, but I am having to force myself to eat and look after myself.

Before he died is was weighing between 97/98 kg. I'm now down to 94 kg, partly due to not eating properly, and partly due to doing a lot of physical exercise clearing out his stuff and throwing out rubbish we had both accumulated as well as walking to and from the recycling bins.

Life has to go on. He said I would survive his death and get on, whereas he didn't think he could. He said he would die before he was 60. If he was right on one, I'm bloody sure he will be proved right on the other.

Gone, but not forgotten.

Sadly the radiotherapy was not worth going for.

Late on 18th January my partner became extremely unlike himself. I shan't go into detail here at this time everything is now getting jumbled up in my head. Somehow, despite the problems (I was convinced it was the cancer having spread to his brain that caused the personality change), I got him dressed and got an ambulance.

The two ambulance guys and the staff at King George Hospital, Ilford deserve mention here. Totally and thoroughly professional.

It seems the cancer had more or less gone on a merry jaunt throughout his system. He died and I was there nearly all the time. The final moments were very calm, I knew the pain had gone. I looked at the nurse as if to say "has he gone?" and she nodded and mouthed or whispered "yes". After his death they allowed me a lot of time, I could have taken more, but the NHS is not there to serve only one grieving partner. Life goes on for many others, and I felt I had to be mindful of that.

However, to still hold his hand and tell him how much I loved him and kiss his forehead seems so soap opera, but one does it.

So my intent of writing about his cancer treatment and how it was doing some good have now been thrown to the wind.

I hope I can continue to blog as anything out on the web that might be found for others in the same situation, be they gay or straight couples, would be worth it. Bereavement is not fun, especially of one still young. It would have been his 57th birthday on 26th January, and our 37th anniversary on 14th February.

Confusion

We thought we had an appointment Tuesday for a dose of radiotherapy. We were wrong. It was just to map out the lie of the land and "X marks the spot" for the treatment.

So here we are, Thursday, we have an appointment. His painkillers are running out, he has had severe constipation that has only just overnight and this morning started to clear up.

This is some bastard punishment for us thinking the shrinking of the tumour was a good sign. If governments only put as much effort into keeping citizens alive and healthy as they do to finding ways of exterminating any life forms, shit like this would not happen.

Sorry to rant, but it's that or go mad, and I know which is the better alternative.

New year, same problems

Well, we made it.

Yesterday, Saturday 12th January 2013, my partner and I, in the presence of my cousin and her husband, officially became a legalised couple in our local Registrar's Office. Sadly, my brother was unable to attend. Not that it was any great event. We turned up, said we were still who we said we were last year, paid the fee, got the witnesses in, and signed.

A pleasant lunch for four at Fredericks in Islington ended off the event quite nicely.

The day was marred by the previous day's experience. We had an oncologist appointment. A bone scan done a week before, had shown there to be a spread of the cancer from the lung into the bone.

Tuesday, he has an appointment for a dose of radiotherapy. I hope and pray it will pass reasonably well.