I felt uneasy about Tuesday. You know that feeling when you know something isn’t quite right? I phoned work and said I wasn’t coming in as I needed to be with Laing. My exact reason I can’t recall, I just knew where my place was instinctively. I don’t remember much apart from staying at home, insisting he stayed in bed, making him coffee and/or tea. He wasn’t that hungry, that much I remember, but he ate, albeit slowly and picking over his food. He never had done that before, ever. I should have been more suspicious then, but hindsight is a valuable tool. Just a shame we can’t go back and pick up on the signs.
I felt bad letting down work, but I also knew I was where I was truly needed. Despite my worries and concerns, I did not let on. I was happy to help and look after him. Despite the fact I saw the oncologist write “palliative” against Laing’s radiotherapy, I wanted to believe he would last longer and be well.
It is part of the human condition that we always want to believe in the best outcome no matter how much we know the odds are against that. I wasn’t ready to lose him, but would I ever have been?