tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20193587772763820432024-03-06T04:16:09.642+00:00Lorna and Micky Our-lomaThe infernal ramblings of a myeloma sufferer and his beloved.Lorna A.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14476134649136494702noreply@blogger.comBlogger483125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2019358777276382043.post-67718882411136043782019-07-21T10:53:00.000+01:002019-10-29T11:31:57.012+00:00Goodbye<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Well dear readers it is time to say goodbye. As the title says, this was a blog about OUR journey with myeloma, there's no longer an US. This space was Mike's as much as mine, although he didn't actually post in the later years. Mike's journey with myeloma is over, so mine is too. With Mike's death I had to start a new journey, without a map, without a Sat Nav and without Mike's nose ('I'm following my nose' was often said in the car.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">My new journey can be found <a href="https://thegoodcheerpixiewentthatway.blogspot.com/">here</a>.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Thank you all for the love and support you have shown over the last nine years. They have been some of the hardest and at the same time best years of my life. I wish you all well for the future. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Lorna x x x</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>Lorna A.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14476134649136494702noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2019358777276382043.post-67849600679216144802019-06-25T09:53:00.001+01:002019-06-25T09:53:25.488+01:00I miss you.<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I miss you darling. I miss your voice, your laughter, your smile, your smell. I miss seeing your face when I wake up every morning, I miss you saying you love me when I go to sleep at night. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I cling to the words you left for me on my birthday, the card you wrote just days before you died, you knew you wouldn't make it, but the gift you left with the words in that card is worth more than all the diamonds in the world. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I miss the readers of the blog being able to comment. I miss conversation with people. I miss so much that I can never get back. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>Lorna A.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14476134649136494702noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2019358777276382043.post-17917279845886880952019-06-17T07:32:00.000+01:002019-06-17T07:32:01.863+01:00Do it.<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Do it, do it now! Write down the things you're loved ones say to you. Get them to write things down, not an impersonal email, but a proper handwritten letter. Capture their image, their voice, their essence on whatever means you can. Keep it safe for the future, but start doing it now. I know you have all heard it before, but please, start doing it now before it's too late and regrets set in.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I deeply regret not having a record of Mike singing to me, I couldn't listen right now I know, but it would have been nice to have it to look forward to. I regret not having his words written down, I have forgotten in my haze of grief all the things he told me before he died. </span>Lorna A.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14476134649136494702noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2019358777276382043.post-10960182952847165112019-06-13T09:07:00.000+01:002019-06-13T09:07:42.361+01:00After Life.<br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">It is a whole month since Mike passed away, nine days since his funeral. The pain of his loss seems sharper than ever. The adrenaline of the first few weeks has dried up and paralysis has set in. Every plant in the garden, every tin in the the pantry, the cups in the cupboard and stuff around the house all remind me he is no longer here. I have to wear dark glasses in the supermarket, as when I spot food he loved, the tears well up and trickle down my face. I can't bear to watch the TV programmes we once watched together and there seems to be very little else that is watchable. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">People are trying so hard to be kind, I know they mean to try and help, but I don't want to move forward, not even one step. I'm not ready to walk the world alone, it is far too scary and dangerous without Mike. Time and time again I am asked by people if I have a plan, have I set myself little targets? For now just being alive is all I can manage, and some days even that is touch and go. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I am angry with the world, but unlike the character in After Life, you wouldn't know it. I keep my anger locked up inside, waiting until I can stand alone somewhere and scream. Why me? Why Us? Why Mike? There are so many bad people out there, why not them?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Tomorrow is / would have been our eighth wedding anniversary, I'm so ridiculously sad we didn't get longer. I want to celebrate the nearly eight years of marriage that we had, can I cheat and pretend we made it? Should I buy a bronze (the traditional gift for an eighth wedding anniversary), something that Mike would have loved, something that I can remember him by? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Alas no one can answer my questions, not unless they are a friend elsewhere. I was forced to switch off comments when I put on the tributes, some people have no respect for the dead. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>Lorna A.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14476134649136494702noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2019358777276382043.post-3788561671386267562019-06-06T10:20:00.000+01:002019-06-06T10:20:44.558+01:00Tribute from a far.<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">We knew this time would come but were hoping for a miracle so that Mike would still be with us, but although he fought bravely it wasn’t to be. He was also praying for that miracle even though things looked pretty bleak, such was his zest for life. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Mike, what can I say? He was one in a million and it’s impossible for me to imagine a world without him in it.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">We first met as young kids in 1962 when we lived a stone’s throw from each other in Great Barr and forged a lifelong friendship – one that meant more to me than any other I’ve had.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">What you saw was what you got with Mike – he was warm, friendly, humorous, intensely loyal and he possessed these attributes both man and boy – he never changed at all. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I think the only time he and I had a minor disagreement was in those very early days when we were talking football and I asked him what football team he supported, and he said Manchester United. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">After I picked myself up off the floor, I counselled him on the merits of switching to West Bromwich Albion and after going to a few matches together as well as training sessions, he was converted. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">We went to many matches together in the 60’s – in fact we did everything together – whether it be kicking a ball at our beloved Recreation Ground (nicknamed the Rec), cricket at Edgbaston, fishing at Sutton Park, train spotting at New Street or Snow Hill, and I have fond memories of penny for the guy and carol singing at Christmas, where we would knock on doors and make up the words because we didn’t know them and we’d fall about laughing.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">These memories have never left me, and I know they never left Mike either because we’d still talk about them.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I moved to Australia in the late 60’s and we kept in touch for some years and then lost contact until I looked him up on a trip to the UK with my family in the late 90’s. I knocked on the door of the house he lived at all of those years earlier and miraculously his mum answered and gave us his contact details. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Mike came over to see us that night and we had plenty to talk about. All of those years of no contact hadn’t affected our friendship at all – that spark still remained. Mike mentioned this himself when we spoke on the phone a few days before he passed away. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Lynne and I have made several trips to the UK since and one of the highlights has always been to spend as much time as possible with Mike and Lorna. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">When we last came over, Mike was quite sick, and our aim was to spend as much quality time with them as we could. Whilst it was a struggle for him at times, he was keen to do whatever he could with us, and we had some great times in places like Liverpool and Blackpool. I found that if I threw him the car keys his eyes would light up – maybe his health was temporarily forgotten about. To say he was a car enthusiast is a major understatement.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Earlier this year we knew that Mike’s health was getting worse and then he confirmed it by phone, but amazingly, he was at peace – I would even say he sounded upbeat. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">One of Mike’s passions over many years was to travel to Australia to see us. It never quite happened but in that phone call he said, ‘I’m coming to Australia’. Of course, I said ‘WHAT’ and then he explained that Lorna will be coming to stay with us and has been given permission to bring Mike’s ashes with her. He was excited in telling me about this.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">We look forward to Lorna making that trip where no doubt we’ll spend much time talking about Mike over a glass of wine or 3. Lorna, your room is ready whenever you are.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Mike, I said what I felt in that phone call a few days before you passed, and I meant them mate. Thank you for your friendship - it was an absolute privilege to know you and rest assured I will never forget you and neither will Lynne. She also knows what an outstanding person you were.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">For one last time, Up the Baggies, Mike.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Your old mate Dave XXXX</span></span></div>
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Lorna A.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14476134649136494702noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2019358777276382043.post-10512737220549583462019-06-05T14:00:00.001+01:002019-06-05T14:00:02.675+01:00A friend's tribute<br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Mike and I were friends from before I can even
remember.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Both of us called Mike.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I'm told we were friends from the age of
three.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We grew up a few houses from each
other in Great Barr.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We always looked
odd together because he was so tall and I was so small.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To anyone who remembers 'Only Fools and
Horses', we were like the Driscol Brothers.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">We got up to some wild times together, including into our
teens and I am very grateful that I just don't remember many of them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Unfortunately, Mike had a perfect memory.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In recent years he would tell me about the
things we did, and I would think 'how embarrassing' and 'please shut up Mike
PLEASE'.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He remembered everybody, every
place, every occasion in great detail. We were teenagers in the late 60's and
early 70's and I cannot even remember going to some parties he talked
about.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But we were there.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I remember his first car.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>A 3-wheeler he could drive on L-plates.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I remember being scared as he went round corners.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was never slow at that time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He made me sit in the footwell because he
wasn't allowed to carry passengers on an L-plate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It just made me even more scared.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If I popped my head up to look, he would push
me down again. Then he got his famous Moggie Minor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fantastic times when your mate gets a
motor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We loaded up one weekend and went
to Lincoln Pop Festival to see Don McClean and Joe Cocker and Slade and Status
Quo.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Exactly 47 years ago, and those
were the new days of freedom and rebellion and we were there in full
swing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s a bit of a haze now, and to
be honest it was a bit of a haze then as well.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">It was at that time we both discovered girls.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I am so glad we did.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Girls saved our lives.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Literally.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Mike worked in Birmingham centre and we would always meet with a strange
lot of people on New Street in Birmingham, all great characters and so many of
Mike's work friends.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were great
times, drinking in The Tavern In The Town, in New Street Birmingham.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We'd be there most nights, normally.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But girlfriends have a way of interfering
with a guy's calendar, and so it happened to us, that night, November 21st
1974.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We weren't there in the pub the
night it was blown up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mike was never a
believer in divine intervention, perhaps he is a believer in female
intervention instead.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The characters that Mike met throughout life he never forgot
and would always mention fondly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mike
only ever spoke well about people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
don't know how many noticed that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He
would always talk about people's qualities and never seemed to moan.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You do tend to notice those ways in which
close friends are different to yourself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Me, I loved a moan.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mike saw the
positive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And isn't that a much needed trait
of a West Bromwich Albion fan?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Always
looking for the positive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I became a
West Ham fan because I like a good moan. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">We lost touch in the family years and getting on with life
and careers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When we caught up again it
could have been with happier circumstances considering Mike’s diagnosis.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But the one thing that I saw once more was
that same old female intervention.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Once
more coming to Mike’s rescue.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Mike and Lorna were a team.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And I witnessed this over recent years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Mike never ran away from any situation, he never hid.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If something had to be confronted, that’s
what he did.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lorna and Mike together
built up their expertise on Mike’s health issues.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It would have been too much for anyone to
cope with and it was certainly a challenge for two.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They both became experts in Mike’s needs and
treatment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In particular it has been
Lorna’s strength and determination that allowed Mike to carry on for so
long.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Year after year they were able to
keep life as normal as possible, including their regular trips to see the
Baggies lose.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Mike helped EVERYONE.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He never liked to see anyone having a problem if he could help.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I developed my own health issues at a time
when Mike was in the midst of his own.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But he and Lorna took me in and took charge and control of the
situation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mike even marched me to the
hospital demanding I receive treatment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>What a great friend. Lorna and Mike helped me recover from my own
problems, just as selfless is their nature.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>How I wish I wasn’t so helpless in return.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I’ll remember Mike the way he was.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Very kind, very caring, with great loyalty
and immense honesty.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lessons for us all.</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<br />Lorna A.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14476134649136494702noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2019358777276382043.post-82026876591937125692019-06-04T14:00:00.000+01:002019-06-04T14:00:01.952+01:00My tribute to my soulmate.<br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">My darling Micky<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Today we are here to say goodbye and at the same time
celebrate your life. We may have met a bit later than most, but from the second
we started talking to each other, I knew that we would be friends for life, and
we were. I never expected to meet someone who I felt would complete me the way
you did, you were someone who I never had to explain myself to. You were the
missing piece of my jigsaw, and I was yours. I couldn’t possibly count how many
hours we spent talking in the garden until the early hours or the number of
times that we laughed until our sides hurt. We had so much fun even during ill
health. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Remember the time we were on our way back from our holiday
in Italy, we didn’t want the holiday to end and so we drove to Broad Street in
Birmingham and got our party clothes out of the suitcases. Off we went to
Brannigan’s nightclub where you went into “play up” mode. You started talking
to a hen party who all had Dick Emery vicar style teeth in. I came over and said,
“don’t worry, I’m his care in the community nurse!” Everyone screamed with
laughter, including you and me. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">We went snorkelling in The Blue Lagoon in Turkey. We found a
small octopus in the shallow water and followed it around until we were so
cold, we could hardly move. When we got out, we discovered we had been in the
water for four hours! You loved Turkey with its heat and people. You obviously
made an impression as the staff remembered you, every time we went.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Even when you were going through your first round of chemotherapy
you had the nursing staff in stitches. When your potassium was up, you dressed
up as a tomato, a banana and potato (all high potassium foods). When Liz was
promoted from staff nurse to sister, you got me to make you a nurse’s watch and
I sewed white tape onto a navy-blue top to mimic the sister’s uniform. Of
course, the best laugh of all was what you did on the day of your last
treatment. You decided that rather than buy chocolates or a thank you card that
you would sing “You’re simply the best” as Tina Turner. Fishnet tights, leopard
print dress, blond wig and high-heeled shoes. The consultant saw you from afar
and legged it off the ward!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Despite my devastation at your loss, I realise that I am so
much richer for having known you. Your kindness and care for me extended so
far, that you even made sure you had bought my birthday present and card before
you left me. I will never forget you; I don’t think anyone could, you were
always so colourful and larger than life.</span></div>
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Lorna A.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14476134649136494702noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2019358777276382043.post-41400495436415691622019-06-02T07:26:00.002+01:002019-06-02T15:35:03.677+01:00More anxiety.<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The anxiety comes in waves like the grief, the one fueling the other. What would be a minor event, a mere tickle of annoyance to a "normal" person has me hiding under the covers, fearful that I am going to come to harm. As the funeral approaches these events seem to be increasing. So many irrational worries about how I am going to cope. Fear of leaving the house, fear of having to so much as look at anyone else, "do I really have to be polite and shake your hand?". Mike always said I underestimated my ability in social situations, that I shone when talking to people, I don't want to shine, I want to find a rock and crawl under it. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I know I will get through it, I have my children and some close friends who will support me on the day, no matter what is thrown at me. I know what Mike wanted from me, I know every little detail of what he wanted to happen after his death, the funeral, his ashes. There will be people who don't agree with HIS decisions, it is my task to button my lip and </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">just</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">carry on doing what he wanted. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I'm glad we had the time we did to talk about his wishes. I'm glad that he told some of his friends what he wanted, avoiding the awkward situations to come. Mike's strength of character has given me the surfboard that I need to ride those waves, I might just fall off occasionally. </span>Lorna A.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14476134649136494702noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2019358777276382043.post-26660289754529695882019-05-28T09:07:00.000+01:002019-05-28T09:43:14.330+01:00Side effects.<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">For me the grief has side effects. The biggest problem for me right now is anxiety. During the first week after Mike's death I phoned everyone, I felt in control and confident. The second week became more difficult as time went on and now as I enter the third week I am so terrified I struggle to answer my own phone, even when I know who is calling, I don't have a hope of making a call out. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">People have started asking me my plans. Am I going to take a holiday? Am I going to get a job? What are my plans for the house? Hang on I'll ask Mike, oh I can't. PANIC!!!!!! You wouldn't believe there is a strong independent woman in there somewhere, she seems to have left the scene along with her beloved Mike. I know people mean well with their advice, but the reality is that I need an adult to take my life over for a while. I feel like a scared child lost in the woods, surrounded by big trees that all look the same. I am anxious about leaving the house, but anxious about being alone. The person Mike thought would help most is dealing with their own grief in the way that best suits them (carry on as if nothing has happened) and they very much expect me to stand on my own two feet when I can barely stand. I've asked them to help me but they say they can't. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Mike would know what to do. </span>Lorna A.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14476134649136494702noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2019358777276382043.post-638905340155418052019-05-24T10:30:00.000+01:002019-05-24T10:30:25.427+01:00Wishes<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">My darling, </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I had planned to write to you explaining myself, and then I realised I never have to. You always understood me, without me having to explain. Instead I will address this note to the world.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">My tears may be drying up, but that doesn't mean I don't miss Mike.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I may laugh out loud, but it doesn't mean I have forgotten Mike.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I may seem to be over my grief, but you will never know how much I miss Mike.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Mike's last wishes were that I wouldn't be too sad, that I wouldn't grieve too long and that I would be happy. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I'm not there yet, but I am on my way darling.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Lorna x x x</span>Lorna A.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14476134649136494702noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2019358777276382043.post-62073615533460397662019-05-21T08:10:00.001+01:002019-05-24T10:24:46.490+01:00Tears of a Clown<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">My darling Mike</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Over the last week I have had visits from my kids, Mike C., and Ros took me out last night. Whilst people are around the tears stay firmly put, it is only when I am alone that the torrent begins. No matter how kind people are, the reality is that only you could ever hug my tears away, that it was only ever you who I could truly sob with, without fear of being judged.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The words of the song say it all. I miss you.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Lorna x x x</span>Lorna A.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14476134649136494702noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2019358777276382043.post-24448638163310755862019-05-20T07:47:00.002+01:002019-05-20T07:47:59.093+01:00The dream<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">My darling Mike</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Last night I had that dream. The dream that I assume everyone grieving has. The dream where you weren't really dead. You arrived on the doorstep, furious that I hadn't realised you were still alive. Angry that I had started to cancel payments and tell people you were dead.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I woke up sobbing, a mixture of sadness and hurt. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I miss you darling</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Love Lorna x x x</span>Lorna A.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14476134649136494702noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2019358777276382043.post-35738549701981829192019-05-17T18:02:00.001+01:002019-05-17T18:02:34.753+01:00Grief<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Anyone who has lost someone they loved will know what I am going through. The house seems so quiet without his voice and at the same time so full of him and his things that wherever I turn I am jolted by the grief of seeing his shoes, his coffee cup, his coat, all without him. My phone makes a sound and I check to see if it is a text from him. I see something interesting and I turn to talk to him. I want to tell him how Toni was doing her doggie smile as she chased squirrels. I want to hold his hand as we walk around the park. I want the tears to stop, but at the same time it feels like that would be a betrayal. Too soon to stop grieving, too soon to stop wanting him back.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I thought I would leave the blog behind, but a very dear friend suggested I continued to write. The journey isn't yet over. Mike still has a part to play, if only for others to know they are not alone in how they feel in the years to come. </span>Lorna A.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14476134649136494702noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2019358777276382043.post-71219744301717269312019-05-14T18:53:00.001+01:002019-08-13T14:36:45.058+01:00Goodbye darling.<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Mike passed away peacefully holding my hand last night. My emotions are so raw and overwhelming that I wonder how I will survive the pain. I know many have gone before me and survived. I know that many more will follow. In this moment though, it is only ever one's own emotions that matter. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Goodbye soul mate, I'm now again missing the jig-saw piece that I found when I met you. </span>Lorna A.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14476134649136494702noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2019358777276382043.post-71560223611127896842019-05-13T18:36:00.000+01:002019-08-13T14:37:45.478+01:00Crazy man<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
For no good reason other than I can, Mike at our first picnic together. Is is wearing my sun hat and it makes him look like Huckleberry Finn! </div>
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<br />Lorna A.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14476134649136494702noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2019358777276382043.post-81418784439126357152019-05-12T08:47:00.000+01:002019-05-12T08:47:08.958+01:00A week on / off.<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Don't panic, I'm not about to bore / horrify you all with gory details. No this post is merely an update and a musing on my part.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Mike is almost exactly the same as he was, the only change from the week before is a slight nausea. I'm not sure what we were expecting would happen, the professionals certainly didn't seem to know, we asked everyone we spoke to, and we're still asking. Their reassuring "we've helped patients before" is rather mute when they won't even say anecdotally what is likely to occur. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The various protocols around who prescribes and who is allowed to collect or deliver the drugs is frustrating at best. The paperwork seems endless, a stock take is done at every visit (I do know why).</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Meanwhile the limbo has now spread to my brain, I look at things, and I know I need to do something, and yet I still just stand there staring, waiting for something to tell me what to do. It is a mental paralysis. I have a constant headache that stretches from the base of my neck at my left shoulder to the front sinus on the left, right over the top. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Life for Mike pretty much continues as before, with me waiting on him hand and foot. I'm left wondering if I might just pop my clogs before he does.</span>Lorna A.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14476134649136494702noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2019358777276382043.post-4979466616197359872019-05-08T15:22:00.002+01:002019-05-08T15:22:39.722+01:00Where's the guide book?<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The district nurses are fabulous, but they don't give you a handbook. Call us if you need anything, but how do I know when the right time is? As the hospice nurse said yesterday, "we would all like a crystal ball". If I had one I would know in advance that I needed their help with Mike's nausea or agitation. A handbook would tell me if there is a magic drug that would ease his itching. They are great, but things seem a bit open-ended if you understand what I am trying to say.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Soldiering on. </span>Lorna A.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14476134649136494702noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2019358777276382043.post-16282611541840868392019-05-03T09:13:00.001+01:002019-05-03T09:13:21.541+01:00Nearly there.<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I just thought I would update you all on what is happening. Mike has decided that Sunday will be his last dialysis session. The dialysis doesn't make him feel any better and his body continues to slowly shut down on him. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Is there anything left to say? I can't imagine that any of you would want to read all the gory details of what happens next week, and so it only remains for me to return to the blog once Mike has gone. I'm sure there will be funny tales about the funeral, insights into the craziness of family and the inevitable turning up of bad pennies, (doesn't every family have at least one?). I hope you will all humour me for a while after the event, I think I might need a bit of moral support. </span><br />
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<br />Lorna A.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14476134649136494702noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2019358777276382043.post-70457556710764720942019-04-10T10:07:00.005+01:002019-04-10T10:07:59.179+01:00Loneliness<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The worse thing about our current situation is the loneliness. No one visits, no one calls, we don't even get emails or text messages. It feels like no one cares, Mike believes they do but just can't cope with the situation and so block it, and us, out of their everyday lives. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Sometimes the current situation of being alone with Mike leaves me terrified of the future when I don't even have him for company. The reality of course is that I will be free to go out and meet new people, how and where is yet to be decided, there will be plenty of time . </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">My days are spent looking after Mike and pottering in the garden. The very changeable British weather makes it difficult as a sudden cold spell after an unseasonably warm spell has the poor plants confused and shocked. It also has Mike struggling for breath as the much needed heating in the house dries the air and the heat outside makes him struggle too, the catch 22 situations of life. </span>Lorna A.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14476134649136494702noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2019358777276382043.post-75235491826605513772019-04-03T11:57:00.002+01:002019-04-03T13:29:31.325+01:00The boy who cried wolf?<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">We all know the story about the boy who cried wolf. How eventually all the villagers no longer believed the little boy. Well that is how most people seem to be approaching Mike's demise, he can't possibly be telling the truth, he's just attention seeking, isn't he? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I had imagined that family and friends would want to spend precious time with him during his last few months, but it seems they either don't believe he has so little time left or they are simply too afraid because of their own emotions. My inner voice is screaming "don't come crying to me when it is too late." </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Just in case anyone doubts what I have been saying, yesterday Mike had to go down to the workshop to help them with some advice on an old Austin Mini they are working on. The lads are all too young to have been trained on how to work on them, and Mike has all the knowledge from years of doing so. While he was sitting there another customer came over and started talking to him. He looked at Mike and his swollen ankles and told him his heart is failing. The other customer is a paramedic and after a conversation about Mike's health the paramedic said he reckons it will be less than a month before he goes pop. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">We're not making it up, Mike certainly isn't crying wolf. </span>Lorna A.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14476134649136494702noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2019358777276382043.post-33759380911197943952019-03-30T12:16:00.002+00:002019-04-03T11:58:10.539+01:00March round-up.<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">A quick round-up of the month. Not much has changed. Physically Mike is able to do less each day, it is a very small deterioration each day, but over a month it becomes more obvious. His physical state doesn't of course display itself on social media, and so friends contact me thinking Mike is doing well as he is so "active", the truth is, that with me having to do everything, Mike has plenty of time to post things while I am fetching and carrying. Just because he can rant about Brexit doesn't me he can lift more than the finger he needs to use his smartphone. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I am tired.</span>Lorna A.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14476134649136494702noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2019358777276382043.post-77383812387303185022019-03-18T18:25:00.000+00:002019-03-18T18:25:24.989+00:00March week three.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB2hrjICVzgwUbSO_mDrlBEXnlu1BE3zzwAmlR7kkDdRDxqOAV3LxDXDyaqZqIOCoL8CXGyuyShdxEWBDgUZD9FfEhBfMPFBs6fGTRoiL03Fl9Fk9L0ZB_272FTy2afjPWSn2IaL0_Oac/s1600/Square.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="319" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB2hrjICVzgwUbSO_mDrlBEXnlu1BE3zzwAmlR7kkDdRDxqOAV3LxDXDyaqZqIOCoL8CXGyuyShdxEWBDgUZD9FfEhBfMPFBs6fGTRoiL03Fl9Fk9L0ZB_272FTy2afjPWSn2IaL0_Oac/s320/Square.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">This afternoon's sky just about summed up my mood. As hard as I tried, I just couldn't find the daily small moment of joy that has kept me going. A flower, a bird, a funny moment, all escaped me. Like all things this mood will pass. Like the moments of panic, when I am scared I will never cope with life alone, until I remember I coped perfectly well with five children and no man, that I coped when Mike was in hospital and bed bound for a month when he did come out. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">In my head I hear all the cliches that people are prone to recite at such times. I will survive, I will get through this, I will learn to live with the grief, I will find happiness again. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Mike and I are both coping really well under the circumstances, we are still trying to get a few things sorted. </span>Lorna A.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14476134649136494702noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2019358777276382043.post-78305039280401025122019-03-12T13:42:00.001+00:002019-03-17T09:48:05.278+00:00March week two.<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So a quick update on what has happened over the last week, apart from the arrival of oxygen. We had a visit from a nurse from the local hospice who in turn referred us to the district nurse. The district nurse came on Saturday and had a long chat with Mike while he was doing his dialysis. He said the team would visit Mike weekly, but Mike said there wasn't really any need for that at the moment so they will be calling him weekly instead until such a time as Mike needs them.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">At least I now have a couple of numbers that I can call should I need help, although I'm still a bit in the dark as to what exactly I should call them for. The limbo on that front continues. The hospice nurse asked me how I was feeling about it all, and all I could say was that I was used to the idea. I'm not happy about it, but I am resigned to it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Mike is using his time to sort out as many things as he can. He has a builder coming on Thursday to replace the doors he took off many months ago (it has been really strange having no door to hide things behind.) He has arranged to have a greenhouse delivered and installed as he thinks it will make me happy, he wants to leave me knowing I am pottering in the garden and growing my own food. He keeps trying to tell me what to do with myself when he has gone, and I keep telling him I will need some time to work things out for myself. I don't want to be rushing into bad decisions just because I am grieving. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">We still laugh at things and I still cry. We're generally happy in each other's company and I'm spending as much time as I can with him, the housework can wait. </span><br />
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<br />Lorna A.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14476134649136494702noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2019358777276382043.post-27007499914083598502019-03-09T16:35:00.002+00:002019-03-17T09:48:05.090+00:00New arrivals.<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Yesterday we had a delivery, oxygen for Mike.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">This box contains four cylinders which can be carried around in a very fetching black bag. We also have a rather large machine upstairs that compresses the oxygen out of thin air (literally) and then pumps it via a tube to Mike. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Hopefully the oxygen will help Mike feel more comfortable, we won't be having an open fire though anytime soon and Mike is banned from using the gas hob (he rarely did any way) and the gas BBQ probably isn't a good idea either!</span>Lorna A.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14476134649136494702noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2019358777276382043.post-24806511404022412382019-03-04T14:18:00.002+00:002019-03-17T09:48:05.051+00:00March week one.<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Nothing much has changed. The slow decline continues.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I find that I am suddenly hit by moments of intense grief, often unexpectedly or at the oddest moments. The other day it was while making the morning coffee, the cafetiere is built for two and the realisation that it will be too big for one was too much to bear. Watching TV and films naturally have me in tears when romance is on the cards, my lover died months ago and I grieve for that part of Mike every day. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">We have long talks about death, about whether the knowing and the preparation make it easier or whether a short, quick end is preferable as the pain of loss is concentrated on the moment. Neither is easy, at the moment it would be easier for me for it to be all over with, but at the same time I can appreciate the time we have had to say our goodbyes.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">It is all so tiring.</span>Lorna A.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14476134649136494702noreply@blogger.com0