Someone

Some time back, around the start of Mags’ illness, a GP at our local practice admitted that it’s near impossible to prognosticate in the case of a cancer patient. People always seem to have the capacity to surprise experts, defy odds, or capitulate unexpectedly. When I spoke to Mags’ oncologist last week (she was too unwell to sit in on the video call) he said it was remarkable that she had remained so well for so long. He also added, at the end of what was a difficult consultation, that he had the utmost respect and admiration for the way we have dealt with things from the outset. But he’s that sort of guy. We’ve been lucky to have benefited from his approach. Fortunate indeed that he has always treated Mags as a unique human being, not just another patient on a list. He has shared his realistic expectations and we have listened. We couldn’t have been better informed, and it was this, the clarity of information and the compassion with which it was delivered that helped immeasurably when faced with the big decisions.

So where are we now? Following the medical review, a referral to the local district nursing team, and the arrival of “anticipatory meds”, we now have a fast track care package in process. And following a weekend of changes, which included a 999 call, the hospice nurse phoned this morning to suggest the installation of a hospital bed.

We’ve been down similar roads before, albeit several cars back, with friends and relatives. Now it’s us travelling, sometimes at breakneck speed, along a poorly lit route with perilous potholes and devastating diversions to negotiate. Thank goodness for family. Someone to help read the place names on a well thumbed and dog eared map. Someone like our darling daughter who stayed the night and demonstrated such kindness and compassion despite getting less than an hour’s sleep. Someone who recognises that I’m running on fumes, and only demonstrates patience and empathy in abundance. Someone whose parting hug can dispel huge chunks of uncertainty.