In response to my last post regarding whether I should continue with the blog, I had quite a large number of emails from people saying that I shouldn't continue if I didn't want to, but that they did find the blog really interesting and inspirational. The overwhelming feeling seem to be that people appreciate my honesty and the insights about life they can gain from my posts, even if by the nature of the situation it is not always a barrel of laughs. So for now I will continue, although I plan to only post when I feel that I have something useful to say so there may be slightly bigger gaps between posts.
The last few weeks have been really busy. I have managed to get from working part-time to full-time in 4 weeks which I feel is something of an achievement. I have also been busy with visitors and this weekend a camping weekend in Rosedale on the North York Moors with a big group of friends which Emma and I both really enjoyed.
As with the occasional instances of enjoying ourselves that we currently have you sometimes come back down to earth with a bump. Emma is buzzing with teenage hormones and stopping school has given her more time to think about her Dad and feel really sad. I have gone back to seriously sleepless nights and a constantly restless mind. People who are "experts" on grief do talk about a 6 month dip occurring (we will be at our 6 month "sadiversary" on the 9th August)so perhaps this is part of that.
As well as a restless mind, I have also been present to a new phenomenon, a curious case of the "what ifs". This is very unusual for me as I pride myself on having a stand to have no regrets in life in normal circumstances. The only serious regret I have ever experienced up until now has been being far too serious in my early 20s and settling down straight after university in to full-time work. Both Dave and I often wished that we had not been so intense and that we had just bummed around the world for a couple of years after uni and experienced the world a bit more before settling down in to domesticity. But leaving that regret aside which has never been a massive deal for either of us, there have been no others. Even the difficulties we experienced with miscarriages and ectopic pregnancies which meant that we did not have as big a family as we planned, we accepted as fate.
During Dave's illness and his death I have never gone down the route of "it's not fair" as I see that as a complete waste of time conversation. You only have to look around the world to see that life is clearly not fair and anyone who tells their kids that it is, is in my world very misguided and setting up their kids to be very upset later in life! Thinking "it's not fair" to my mind saps your energy and drains you so I don't go there. Life isn't fair but anyone who has the expectation that it will be is, to my mind, a bit deluded, and probably ends up very angry and bitter for most of their life.
What I have been experiencing a lot of though in the last couple of weeks is the "what ifs", those imponderables that will never be answered. What if Dave had not been such a bloke about his illness and gone to the doctors sooner? What if we had tried more of the alternative treatments like the grape juice fast? What if certain drugs like Avastin had been available on the NHS? What if we had been able to travel to Brazil and see the man who is claiming to be the Son of God and healing people? What if I had given up work sooner? What if we have been less generous with the time we gave to visiting family and friends and saved it for us as a family? Did Emma get to see her Dad enough when he went to the hospice? Did we do things "right"? A million and one things have been going round in my head and I wonder if this is part of "processing" what has happened.
The thing about terminal illness in my experience though is this. You make the best decisions you can at every point during the illness according to the information you have available at the time. And, at times, especially towards the end when things are absolutely hairraising you make the decisions in the midst of chaos and total upset and trauma. You basically have to do the best you can.
I remember with my mum's cancer that we were told in February 2003 she would probably live for 12-18 months. I travelled the 450 mile round trip at least every other weekend and sometimes more frequently to spend time with her in her nursing home in Oxfordshire. When it got to July she seemed to be doing relatively okay so I decided to take a holiday with Dave and Emma in Devon as I felt I should have some "quality" time with them if I was going to need to spend a lot of time away from home with my mum in the following few months. What actually happened was that my mum deteriorated rapidly whilst I was away and died approximately a fortnight after I had returned from the holiday. When somebody is terminally ill predictions are often wildly inaccurate and you are always in the situation of not knowing how long you will need to keep going and sustain yourself.
With Dave at the point where the doctors discovered the cancer had returned in November 2007, Dr Last predicted that he would live for between one and three years with chemo, possibly even longer as he was so young to get this form of cancer. In reality, he lived for just short of 15 months after that. During the last 3 months of his life the deterioration was frighteningly fast and we lived in chaos. There are parts of that time which I cannot actually remember as they were so very traumatic, I seem to have blanked them out of my mind for now. We talked and reviewed things constantly involving Emma as much as possible in all our decisions and in my head I really do know that we all did the best we could at the time. But knowing this doesn't seem to stop you thinking about the "what ifs".
The trouble is the more I try to put the lid on the "what ifs" the more they seem to breed and multiply so what can I do? My feeling is that I just need to let them arise and fall and not try to change them or alter them in any way. I know in my heart that we really did do the best we could at the time and without the benefit of hindsight. I also need to remember the acknowledgements we have received in the past from people who know about how we handled the whole adventure of Dave's illness.
Only this week my counsellor at the hospice was commending me on how much I/we have given Emma in the way we jointly approached Dave's illness and how I have subsequently given Emma so many gifts in my approach since Dave's death. Apparently the openness I/we have shown is rare amongst the families she deals with. I can see that some of things I have done like allowing Emma to spend time with her dad after he died, allowing her to help in organising the funeral and letting her choose the plot in the cemetery where the ashes are interred have all helped. I also think that our openness in talking about what has happened and is happening to us both now is a big testament to the relationship that we created as a family together with Dave. However, this does not stop it hurting like hell when she is so very upset. It can also tear you apart as a mother when your natural instinct is to try to "make everything better". Unfortunately, intellectually I do know that I can't solve this one for her but it doesn't stop me wanting to try.
Wednesday 29 July 2009
Tuesday 14 July 2009
Snakes and Ladders......
Hi there. Not posted for a while. Too damn tired at the moment! Going back to work is taking its toll. Putting on a public face for so many hours a day is totally exhausting and people seem to feel the need to tell me that I look really well and am doing really well. If only they knew what was going on underneath the surface...........
In general, I am more puzzled and bemused by life than at any time in the past. Living my life for me prior to Dave's illness and death was, for the majority of the time, a complete breeze. I never understood why people made so much fuss about life and how tough it was. I just thought it was all about having fun, laughter and love and never realised the stability and grounding you get from being in a happy, loving and secure relationship. My relationship with Dave was totally in my blindspot - it was only in the last few years of his life that I realised how special it was.
Now life looks very much more complicated. If I had marked my ability to live prior to Dave dying I would have said I was near to complete "mastery" of this living thing! To find myself in this situation is something of a shock. I said to a couple of friends yesterday that I feel like I have been in a game of Snakes and Ladders and have got a couple of spaces away from the top only to find the Most Enormous Snake which has taken me right back to the first few squares of the board and the beginning. I now feel like a complete novice in life, feeling almost as if I need to learn to walk and talk and learn all those other basics again. I also feel quite childlike in my emotional state - very vulnerable and with this panicky feeling of being on my own again.
The strange thing is I am noticing that lots of other people in their 40s and 50s seem to be struggling with life in general and are very confused and upset. Divorce seems all too common and if not as far as the divorce stage I am witnessing a lot of relationship "struggles" and unhappiness. Lots of job and career problems and upsets and financial problems seem prevalent and more people seem unhappy with their lot in life and seem to be struggling to find meaning. So at least I am not alone!
So I am now declaring myself to be a Novice. I know that I have quite a few miles on the clock of life and doubtless a bundle full of experience which could come in handy, but I am now beginning a completely new life and I have to admit I am a Novice. No idea where to start or how to create my new life. In fact I don't even think I am ready to create a new life yet until I have been further through the Grief Process. At the moment trying to generate anything feels like putting icing on dog pooh and i don't think it's to be recommended.
Greiving wise I still feel as if I haven't got to the Bottom of the Pit. For those of you who are perhaps thinking I will be on the way up by now as much as I would like that to be the case that doesn't seem to be the way this works. In fact it is really now that the situation is really biting - the reality of the fact that Dave is dead is really hitting home to both myself and Emma and life is tough as we go about our normal day-to-day life with such an important person missing.
At this point am not sure how much longer I will continue with the blog. The blog was a fun thing to do in the adventure of Dave's illness and there was plenty of drama but writing about grief is never going to be a bundle of laughs! I notice quite a large number of people are still reading the but am not currently sure if it is serving a purpose. Certainly doesn't feel inspirational any more! But if you have any thoughts or comments I would love to hear from you. My email is sarah@lefrenchies.wanadoo.co.uk.
In general, I am more puzzled and bemused by life than at any time in the past. Living my life for me prior to Dave's illness and death was, for the majority of the time, a complete breeze. I never understood why people made so much fuss about life and how tough it was. I just thought it was all about having fun, laughter and love and never realised the stability and grounding you get from being in a happy, loving and secure relationship. My relationship with Dave was totally in my blindspot - it was only in the last few years of his life that I realised how special it was.
Now life looks very much more complicated. If I had marked my ability to live prior to Dave dying I would have said I was near to complete "mastery" of this living thing! To find myself in this situation is something of a shock. I said to a couple of friends yesterday that I feel like I have been in a game of Snakes and Ladders and have got a couple of spaces away from the top only to find the Most Enormous Snake which has taken me right back to the first few squares of the board and the beginning. I now feel like a complete novice in life, feeling almost as if I need to learn to walk and talk and learn all those other basics again. I also feel quite childlike in my emotional state - very vulnerable and with this panicky feeling of being on my own again.
The strange thing is I am noticing that lots of other people in their 40s and 50s seem to be struggling with life in general and are very confused and upset. Divorce seems all too common and if not as far as the divorce stage I am witnessing a lot of relationship "struggles" and unhappiness. Lots of job and career problems and upsets and financial problems seem prevalent and more people seem unhappy with their lot in life and seem to be struggling to find meaning. So at least I am not alone!
So I am now declaring myself to be a Novice. I know that I have quite a few miles on the clock of life and doubtless a bundle full of experience which could come in handy, but I am now beginning a completely new life and I have to admit I am a Novice. No idea where to start or how to create my new life. In fact I don't even think I am ready to create a new life yet until I have been further through the Grief Process. At the moment trying to generate anything feels like putting icing on dog pooh and i don't think it's to be recommended.
Greiving wise I still feel as if I haven't got to the Bottom of the Pit. For those of you who are perhaps thinking I will be on the way up by now as much as I would like that to be the case that doesn't seem to be the way this works. In fact it is really now that the situation is really biting - the reality of the fact that Dave is dead is really hitting home to both myself and Emma and life is tough as we go about our normal day-to-day life with such an important person missing.
At this point am not sure how much longer I will continue with the blog. The blog was a fun thing to do in the adventure of Dave's illness and there was plenty of drama but writing about grief is never going to be a bundle of laughs! I notice quite a large number of people are still reading the but am not currently sure if it is serving a purpose. Certainly doesn't feel inspirational any more! But if you have any thoughts or comments I would love to hear from you. My email is sarah@lefrenchies.wanadoo.co.uk.
Wednesday 1 July 2009
What becomes of the broken hearted?
I heard "What becomes of the broken hearted?" by Jimmy Ruffin on the radio the other day and it set me wondering - what does become of the broken hearted? I have a particular interest in this one as I now consider myself to be in this category of people for the first time in my life having lost my best friend and soul mate. Now don't get me wrong, "What becomes of the broken hearted?" is a very good song, but if you look at the lyrics Jimmy poses a question that he never really bothers to answer which doesn't seem very fair. This set me wondering. What does become of the people whose hearts are broken by whatever event be it by bereavement, illness, divorce or just sheer meanness or nastiness on the part of their partner? There must be a lot of people in this category but they either must either adjust to their new state, hide their broken heart, harden themselves (which I think often happens) or just simply disappear under the carpet. Or perhaps they mend their broken heart somehow and go on to another wonderful relationship eventually. I do wonder which category I will be in but I think it is far too early to tell! Dave was very committed to me having another relationship - in fact so much so that he was eyeing up potential suitors for me on visits to the hospital and around our house when innocent tradesmen visited! I think he would have advertised and interviewed suitable candidates if time had been more on his side! But for me, although I recognise that I don't much fancy being on my own for the next 30+ years it is far too early in the process to even contemplate another relationship. I do find myself "window shopping" lonely hearts advertisements though which is extremely bizarre but unfortunately I think Dave would have to acknowledge that he has spoilt me for other men by doing such a good job of being a husband!
A short post this week as to tell you the truth I am completely and utterly knackered. And the awful thing is I am pretty certain I have not bottomed out yet in terms of upset. Nearly five months of grieving on top of looking after Dave for a very long while have nearly done me in. When I read a book a few months ago that contained advice for people whose partner had died, they said that in the first few months the best advice was to get up, get dressed, drink plenty of water, try to eat healthily and breathe. At the time I laughed at this advice and, I think, in retrospect, tried to do too much to prove this theory wrong (God knows why). I soon realised that this was actually very good, simple advice and adopted a new strategy. The new strategy was to do the above and to put "one foot in front of the other" and "one day at a time" (too cheesy for words). If I had a bad day I put it down to experience and made a fresh start the next day. In the last couple of weeks even putting one foot in front of the other has become tricky and, at times, a bridge too far. I feel like a Mini trying to tow a juggernaut. I would never have believed that one human being could get so tired but my homeopath and doctor do think it is just the grieving process combined with the shock of Dave's death on my body. We have agreed though that if it carries on for another couple of weeks the doctor will run some tests to eliminate nasties like thyroid troubles etc. but in the meantime it is time to try to chill out and relax. Easier said than done in the circumstances!
A short post this week as to tell you the truth I am completely and utterly knackered. And the awful thing is I am pretty certain I have not bottomed out yet in terms of upset. Nearly five months of grieving on top of looking after Dave for a very long while have nearly done me in. When I read a book a few months ago that contained advice for people whose partner had died, they said that in the first few months the best advice was to get up, get dressed, drink plenty of water, try to eat healthily and breathe. At the time I laughed at this advice and, I think, in retrospect, tried to do too much to prove this theory wrong (God knows why). I soon realised that this was actually very good, simple advice and adopted a new strategy. The new strategy was to do the above and to put "one foot in front of the other" and "one day at a time" (too cheesy for words). If I had a bad day I put it down to experience and made a fresh start the next day. In the last couple of weeks even putting one foot in front of the other has become tricky and, at times, a bridge too far. I feel like a Mini trying to tow a juggernaut. I would never have believed that one human being could get so tired but my homeopath and doctor do think it is just the grieving process combined with the shock of Dave's death on my body. We have agreed though that if it carries on for another couple of weeks the doctor will run some tests to eliminate nasties like thyroid troubles etc. but in the meantime it is time to try to chill out and relax. Easier said than done in the circumstances!
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