Like a tonne of bricks

Blimey.

I have been doing so well dealing with the aftermath of my transplant. No tears for weeks and a feeling that life has moved massively on. Despite the Ball taking every waking minute of my life at the moment, myeloma, strangely feels very remote from me…it is like I have been fundraising for something far less personal.

But tonight I got a really sad phonecall. A gentleman who I met with his wife nearly a year ago at a Tabletop sale we ran, called me to say that his wife died last week after a battle with pneumonia. She had myeloma and had also been treated at the Marsden. It had taken him a week to know how to tell me. I thought he was so brave to have even thought of me.

It was such a sad phone call. She had been so brave in how she had handled this damned cancer and had fought to do all of the things that were important to her….but without making a fuss to anyone else. I believe it had been a very private fight. Strangely as her husband was talking about how she had passed away and told me how he had called the Marsden, it made me recall a phonecall I had overheard whilst I had been sitting in the waiting room on Tueday about a patient who had died. It had been him and I hadn’t realised. As we both realised this, it felt very surreal.

Yet again, it has hit me for six. Whilst I didn’t know her well, the connection that you get with someone who has myeloma is so strong. They had stopped at our sale when they saw the orange posters on the road…we were still setting up, but they made the effort to come back to support the event. And ever since, we have stayed in touch, just a little, via email and post. Despite watching his wife go through her last days and weeks, he took the time to keep me updated and even more impressively to sell huge numbers of raffle tickets for me. Some people are so selfless. I am pretty humbled.

So this week I will attend the funeral. It will be the first I have been to due to myeloma. I am scared of how it will feel but feel strongly that I need to be there. And I think that Nick will come with me to support me which is so lovely of him. I think even for him, this has reminded us of what we are living with.

 

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2 Comments

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2 responses to “Like a tonne of bricks

  1. Condolences, Deb, as you grieve this passage and go to support this man and his family/friends for their loss… yes, we do put MM in the back of the closet from time to time, wishing it would stay on that shelf. It is never joyful when it falls out, like a sharp-edged box with bad memories. Ugh.

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