Good morning Rob and Melissa. Your latest shares touched me deeply, and, as before, I am drawn back to the last months with my Dad.
When he first received the news that his cancer was inoperable and incurable I was with him and my Mum. We had already suspected this would be the case as this wasn't his first bout and he was very ill. Nevertheless, the oncologist told him he could have a course of radiotherapy to prolong his life.
As we left his office, we headed to a coffee shop in the hospital, and sat together to regroup and talk it through. My Dad was so grateful that he'd been given an opportunity to have treatment. This was in July last year. He immediately set himself a target...he wanted to be around for Christmas and to spend it with his Grandchildren. My Mum was tight lipped but she wanted to support his dream, so she subsequently busied herself nursing him at home as best she could, turning down any sort of help until she really couldn't manage that any more.
I admired them both for being so single minded, but it came at the expense of either of them being able to live 'in the moment'. There was a goal in sight for them both, and nothing would come before that. Several times I gently suggested that Dad get his finances in order. Mum left all that to him, she had no idea of how her bank account worked or what responsibilities they had. I was brushed off. They didn't want to face that, not yet, it was never the right time. They had re-written the conversation with their consultant, to listen to them you'd have thought he had written them a blank cheque for unlimited life. I had many conversations with my siblings to remind them of the stark truth of the situation.
It was a surreal time. It was easy to get caught up in their singleness of purpose, indeed to go against it felt like I was being unduly pessimistic and spoiling what life he had left.
When he got pneumonia, I was the one who phoned an ambulance. Dad was cross...he was due to have radiotherapy and I was the one standing in his way. From then on, his decline was rapid. He never managed to breathe without the aid of oxygen again and once his dream was dashed he became angry at the world.
I'm not sure either of them had ever fully accepted the seriousness of their situation. After all, he'd had cancer before and got over it, why not this time? I found it difficult to enter their parallel universe of denial, yet accepted their right to be in it. Whatever was easier for them I guess. And, if I was in that same position, who knows how I would handle it.
There really is no script to follow in dealing with such news, either as the patient, or as a partner or family member. Life must go on, and yet it stands still. It's like being in an alternate reality.
Lots of love to you both, your bravery and dignity touches us all ❤️