Bad Friday
I have been trying to write this for some time now, but each time I start, it comes out all wrong.
There has been a somewhat cataclysmic change here at the Manor. It’s hard to describe in some ways but easy in others. Basically everything I took for granted has been turned on its head, so what was normal yesterday is suddenly alien today.
Recently new words have cropped up at an increasing rate in conversation with the medical profession – palliative care, DNR and rather scarily “end of life”. This seems to stem from a meeting with one of the hospital teams where there was casual mention of the spread of the cancer. Apparently they now reckon it has spread to the lungs. They haven’t actually done any biopsies but the unspoken words are that there is no need for tests.
I have now been assigned my own Palliative Care Nurse. She’s a lovely woman and very apologetic. She arrived here the other day and spent the afternoon asking such trivial questions as to my preference to being cremated or buried. I said I didn’t really care at that stage. In fact that was the answer to most of her queries which made conversation a little easier.
I’m not sure where I go from here. I am sitting here dosed up to the eyeballs with painkillers. The one thing I have made quite plain is that I do not want to go back to hospital. I have had enough of those places.
Going back to the first sentence in this little monologue, it has come out all wrong. I knew it would. There is a lot to say but I don’t know how to say it any more. Anyhows I’m not going to bother proofreading or any of that crap.
Take this for what it is – a sort of excuse for my absences.
Bugger!
Double bugger!
Despite reasonable NHS care and excellent hospice care my Mother In Law chose not to go back into hospital/hospice care towards the end. We never discussed the reasons but I inferred she was tired of being ‘messed about’. A matter of rescuing what dignity she could.
Sorry to hear this.
I don’t post very often here but I’m so very sorry to hear this – what a buggeration…
You’re a very brave man.
If it should ever happen to me I can only hope that I am half as brave as you are, God Bless.
All of the above.
I think you’ve made the right decision to stay out of hospital now. Enough’s enough. Good luck and love!.
My commiserations to you and your family Grandad. If it helps, my father was told that his cancer was terminal in 1972, and that he had six months to live. He lasted until 1977, and had a reasonable quality of life for most of that time.
Spend time with the ones you love, make memories, and make sure they know how you feel about them. You will always live on through the lives that you have touched, even to some small extent, all of us here.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NNJQw5GVOzM
best wishes,
Ian
Oh dear. Thoughts and prayers.
Mere words from your loyal band of followers are nothing but control what you can of your destiny and don’t let them take away your freedom of choice and wishes, but keep annoying these’ll out of those who think they know you better than you do.
I don’t blame you about the hospital. There comes a time when it’s the right call to say enough is enough. You’ve touched the lives of all your readers. May God be with you.
Words are not enough. Thank you to struggling on.
I have no words.
Thinking of you.
Awww heck.
Nothing at all that I can say, except ‘Bugger’.
Enjoy, as far as you can, what you have left. Do tell those you love how much you love them.
And don’t waste a second on pleasing nobodies like us.
We understand.
And may God’s mercy have you smiling and pain free.
Buggers. Words escape me.
A late friend had a similar diagnosis last November, to which my single-word response was, indeed, Bugger! My imagination doesn’t extend any further today. Sorry.
Dad,
You are a dear. You have done good things. You have brought me joy and also to others.
Prayers for your pain to lessen. Prayers for your situation and for your family. I pray your PCN continues to treat you with kindness and dignity. Whether you are well or ill you deserve that.
Your friend ,
Toodles
Thank you for the laughter and wisdom over the years. I wish you a peaceful and painless goodbye.
Cancer is a fucking bastard. I know you will not go gentle into that good night.
Sorry to hear this news Grandad. I’m sure the help and support from your family will be greatly appreciated. It is a tough time for you all. Thinking of you and the years of Grandad posts that bought a smile to us.
Grandad, I went through all this with my wife who died of dementia two years ago. I totally understand how unpleasant it is. I found it profoundly depressing and it wasn’t even me they were all talking about. I truly admire your courage.
Just one of the many people who looked forward to reading about your life, Herself, and Penny, and sometimes imagined how a face to face conversation would go. That is never going to happen, especially now, and all I can say, apart from “Bugger”, is thank you for the years of your philosophy, courage, and reflections of your village life.
Bugger! Life isn’t fair, but that wasn’t ever a part of the design. I’m at a loss for words.
I admire your bravery .Please makes sure you get all the painkillers you need.
Good luck
I can only wish you well, for however long the term applies. And hope that the NHS does a better job in your case than they have in others.
After a day to consider your message, my original comment of double bugger still applies.
However, about 15 years ago both my twp best mates succumbed to similar conditions. One opted quite early for hospice care, where I visited him daily.
I was staggered by the whole atmosphere and quality of care, not only for him but also his friends and relatives. A million miles from any ‘hospital’, it was filled with care, compassion and love. In addition, their skill at providing palliative pain-relief by various means was exemplary.
In short, if you have such a service nearby, please don’t dismiss it, you may all benefit through a very difficult time.
Thoughts are with you all.
I do not have the words Grandad. I know you will be missed by a good many people.
Oh shit…
You’ve put up such a great fight, but the bell’s still there to ring, so take the hours as they come, as they’re still yours!
Thinking of you Grandad, wishing still that we could have met!