“And worse I may be yet: the worst is not
So long as we can say 'This is the worst.”
Shakespeare, King Lear
I didn't blog at all in 2022. See below for the reasons:
Preface: December 2021
On a pre-Christmas trip to visit my mother in law, the clutch went on our car. It had to be towed back to Manchester from the West Country and no-one could fix it until the new year. When we hired a vehicle for 24 hours to do the last-minute Christmas Eve Stuff that couldn't be done by public transport, the vehicle hire firm accused me of putting a scratch on it (I still dispute this) resulting in a lost deposit.
January: Car Troubles
It took most of the month to find someone who could do the work, either because of being busy or unable to do the more-complex-than-just-a-replacement-clutch job. 4-figure bill in the end.
February: Illness
My partner started to suffer from reflux-y symptoms. Eventually persuaded him to consult the GP who suspected a hiatus hernia and did tests to rule out "anything more sinister." Referred to hospital for further investigations.
March, April, May: Backlogs
Covid restrictions and associated backlogs meant nothing else happened while meals became more and more difficult until he was on a soup-only diet (although chocolate always stayed down)
June: Hospital
Attended Manchester Royal Infirmary for an endoscopy but couldn't view the stomach due to the discovery of a large tumour in the oesophagus preventing anything non-liquid getting in there (which explained the soup and chocolate). Referred for more scans/tests at MRI, Trafford General and Salford Royal.
SatNav getting a lot of use
July: Plague
Outcome of scans = yep, definitely cancer. Two options:
- Nasty, long operation, requiring up to a year recovery.
- Chemo
The week he was due to go in to have feeding tub fitted prior to the op, all four of us finally succumbed to Covid (my fault - I went out for one evening) during the deadliest heatwave in living memory.
Finally admitted to Salford Royal for feeding tube fitting, during which they discover the stomach (which is needed to create a new oesophagus) also has some 'suspicious cells' meaning the op is now not viable. Stent fitted instead, which means at least he can eat real food again, albeit overcooked and chopped up small.
August: Chemo
First round results in a fair amount of persistent hiccupping and throat restriction, making life very unpleasant and his lovely voice changing (luckily temporary)
September: Car Troubles II: the Legend Continues
Second round leaves him feeling slightly chirpier, with signs it's having some effect.
Then some arsehole of a joyrider takes a corner too fast and totals the car. Lucky it was parked and there were no pedestrians about for him to kill. So sorting out insurance and police report at the same time as attending hospital appointments, which I could have done without.
October: More chemo, more pain
Find another car but by this time he's too weak to walk around the hospital on his own due to backache and persistent cough that's developed so become very familiar with the Uber drivers who do the hospital circuit (some are very good and drive in a way that minimises bumps and swerves for a clearly in-pain customer; others, less so).
November: All hell breaks loose
Backache/cough prove to be symptoms of the cancer having metastasised at an alarming rate.
10th - visit the Christie for bloods/pre-chemo consultation. Told too ill for chemo and sent home with Oramorph and steroids to try and get fit enough for treatment.
11th - reacts badly to Oramorph, starts seeing things and becoming confused. Macmillan nurse calls emergency ambulance as blood sats drop to mid 60s. Admitted to MRI and taken more or less straight to Resus and put on saline drip, Now not recognising me, being aggressive to staff (proof that something is badly wrong) and hallucinating. Put on saline and wait for a bed on the ward.
12th (his birthday) moved to the ward; had a comfortable night and I'm told to visit him at 2pm. At 10.30am, get a call to say he's taken a turn for the worse and can the family come in? We arrive about 11am at which point they're still in active treatment phase. No sign he knows we're there or has seen the (very fine) card son has made for him. By 2pm, nothing working, so put on end of life care. Daughter asks to leave at the end of the day and goes home with fiancé (who spent 8 hours sitting in the corridor waiting for her because it was family only and he didn't feel he counted).
13th Son and I spend all day with him. We are top of the waiting list for a side room anywhere in the hospital (one never becomes available). Pain medication seems to be barely touching him and seems very distracted (am told this is just the body reacting in spasms and he's not as uncomfortable as it looks. At 11pm we're asked to step out for a bit so they can "make him comfortable". We both know what that means and when we return he is, at least, less disordered and seemingly calmer. We wait.
14th - at around ten past midnight he leaves us. Have a verbal altercation with a patient on the ward who has been awful to everyone for the whole time we've been there and chooses that moment to complain about all the noise (my son in tears at the loss of his beloved dad). Tell him in no uncertain terms how unpleasant and obstreperous he has been to the staff and how selfish he is being. Grief certainly focuses the mind!
Go home to sleep, after which lovely neighbour helps me do all the immediate stuff which needs doing. Rest of the month telling people he's died, transferring all the utilities to my name so we actually have heat, light, cooking, etc and arranging a funeral. In Manchester. In December.
December: Grief, Funerals and Christmas
The three of us put together a funeral service which we hope reflects the man he was, led by my oldest friend as the celebrant. Despite his assertion that no-one liked him, many friends and former colleagues come to the service and share wonderful stories about him.
Emotions still a bit wobbly, as everywhere we go reminds us of him.
Christmas a bit weird but not as bad as we'd feared it might be, Developed some new traditions along with the old.
Marked my 60th birthday as a widow - not something I would have predicted.
I have always hated New Year's Eve and this was especially to be avoided. I think I've succeeded in not wishing anyone a happy new year this time - I wasn't feeling it and had a weird feeling I might bring down a year like the one I've just gone through if I'd wished anyone a happy new year!
So, gentle reader, that is why I didn't post anything in 2022.
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