Ten days on – still standing.

 

The sudden bursts of emotion are manageable – healing almost, except tears and make- up cause me real smarting pain – but that is diminishing.  No the baddies are the moments of bleak despair or blind panic.  The great comfort apart from my back- up of family, friends and my blog mates is that I still feel MTL is just in the next room – certainly close by, and I hope to keep that feeling as long as possible.

I put a letter in his casket and thought – that is the last letter I’ll write to him, but who says so?  I shall talk and write to him whenever I wish.  Type written of course – neither of us can read my handwriting.

 It wasn’t the cancer.  With the help of our surgeon and oncologist we beat that and the surgeon said every test he had after the treatment was negative.

It was a pulmonary embolus.  I asked the coroner if we could have done anything to stop it.  He said no.  I asked if there would have been any pain.  He said yes but not for long.  So up until an hour or so before the end he was still enjoying life – still being chatted up by old ladies at the supermarket.
 

It’s ironic – as I told the coroner - for the first time for ages I had cooked him a steak pie with puff pastry and had to scold him as he was serving it and sampling it at the same time.

Coroner: Did you have some?

Pat:  Yes – it was delicious.

Coroner:  Then I think we can discount the pie.

 MTL would have appreciated that.

 

The emergency services were exemplary.  In my panic we were cut off as I was speaking to the operator but she must have traced my call and they arrived within ten minutes.  I think it was too late then but they worked tirelessly.  They didn’t want to leave me alone and were anxious I should phone family.  Then a policeman came - a most caring man who offered to remove MTL’s wedding ring which I have on a chain round my neck.  He even offered to clear every thing up – but I wouldn’t let him.  The ambulance woman said her father had recently died and her step-mother didn’t let her know for a few hours and she regretted that.

That galvanised me and I phoned Australia, France, America, London, Norfolk and Wiltshire and before lunch time I had family with me.

 

Our French son arrived and said he would stay as long as it took.  The boys have learned well from their father and it was noticed as they wandered round the kitchen it was like having two MTLs.  Our French son even dealt with the enormous bouquets being delivered.  One of them was from my childhood friend Elsie who lived next door in Rossendale.  We were 2 year olds together.  Her Dad had lost a leg in WW1 and when he died I had just started nursing and took a bunch of freesia next door.  It was the days when the deceased lay in their home until the funeral and Elsie put the freesia in her father’s hands.  When she ordered the bouquet for me she insisted there should be freesia and how lovely is the fragrance.  I’m burbling aren’t I?

Routine is a lifesaver – regular sleep, meals, tea and coffee breaks – avoiding tiredness as much as possible, and fresh air with Horlicks and Quiet Life at bedtime.

Anything for a quiet mind.

More later.