‘All By Myself, I Don’t Want To Be….’

[pantages]

'All By Myself, I Don’t Want To Be….’ After 36 years enjoying a wonderful life together, my partner passed away on 27 November. Now there is a huge hole in my life and tremendous sadness. We did everything and made decisions together, now I’m floundering even when I go food shopping and having to adjust quantities. I am sure I will draw strength from my memories of David but it will take time. He had been ill with a comparatively rare condition, Cardiac Amyloidosis, for over four years, but it beat him in the end. At the outset I had been told his life expectancy would be18 – 24 months, which was incredibly difficult to accept. After all, David had never been ill and was as fit as a fiddle. In the event he survived over four years and only now do I realise how hard it had been for me in caring for him, simply because I now no longer have to do it. I feel lost and guilty because I now have time to spare.

In June this year, after David had been stable for over a year, we booked a cruise on Queen Victoria to the Antarctic Circle, our first ever. We both were excited and looking forward to it, this being our first ‘proper’ holiday since 1987. Two weeks before we were due to sail, his condition deteriorated and he had to go to hospital, which meant cancelling the cruise. After many tests and the removal of 5 litres of fluid from his body, David came home, but he was given only days to survive. Preparations were made and I was given advice on what to expect and to do. However, after a week he suddenly rallied and came back to me, although his condition was still poor. He told me he had been ‘taken’. I asked him to where? He said he didn’t know, but it was very peaceful. On another day I could see he was ‘out of this world’, but suddenly he woke up and shouted ‘I’m back!’ AstonishingHis weight had fallen from 11 stones in June to under 8 stones after coming home. He continued to eat very little solid food, but survived quite well on liquid foods. He was mentally alert and able to get around with my assistance, even to the supermarkets etc. In September his diuretics stopped working again and back to hospital he went where a further 7 litres of fluid were drained from him. My heart ached, I felt useless and I was always feeling angry; not with David, he was brilliant, never once did he complain or feel sorry for himself; my anger was at the illness and why it should affect my David. He repeatedly told me not to worry and that he would look after me. This was my frail little partner, who was stoical throughout his illness, who had been a highly respected electrical technician, a great cook, a keen gardener, and who could turn his hand to anything and make a success of it. He was a perfectionist. Everyone liked David; he had an honesty that was instantly recognised. He was practical, I am a planner and organiser and between us we made a great team We bought and sold eleven houses, having lived in them for an average of two years each, renovating them and selling them on. We have a home cinema set up which we enjoyed immensely and there are seven films that remain unwatched. And he would have looked after me if he could.

Three weeks ago, David started to become confused and behaving oddly. It was awful, very frightening. He was taken to hospital where tests eventually revealed his sodium levels to be extremely low and that was the cause of his confusion. He tried four times to leave the hospital and each time was restrained from doing so. This caused him great distress, so that when I made my daily visits to him, he wanted me to take him home and he became very upset when I had to tell him I couldn’t until his consultant said he could go. That broke my heart. David’s condition was such that his skin became very thin, like tissue paper, so that he quickly became covered in bruises and flesh wounds. Eventually, two weeks ago, he did come home and being in familiar and caring surroundings, he quickly settled down, although his confusion was still there. This did get better each day as his sodium levels increased. On Tuesday, 25 November, he had a wonderful day. He laughed for the first time in months; he was cheerful and chatted coherently. I thought this was a sign of another rally, But next day, he was quite poorly. Until that day he had never suffered pain not even with chemotherapy ofrany other treatment. Now he complained of abdominal pain. He collapsed when I tried to help him to his feet so he could go back to bed. I had to call an ambulance to help David get to bed. Our GP came and prescribed morphine, but it did not help. I was helpless. I tried to get him to change his position to see if it would help but every time I lifted him he collapsed back into his bed.

At about 8.30pm David asked me to take him back to hospital. I asked if he was sure that is what he wanted me to do as he had hated being there the week before. He said it was so I called an ambulance. When David was being wheeled out of our home, he looked terrified as though he knew he would never see it again. I will never forget that look. At A&E he was put into a resuscitation room where he was linked to monitors. I could see from his heart rate that things were poor. His heartbeat was all over the place and his blood pressure was rising and falling rapidly. A doctor took me to one side and told me that David only had hours to live. That was devastating news, because even though I knew it would happen one day, I wasn’t prepared – who could be? At 11.30 David said to me that he was tired and would like to go to sleep. I said that was okay and I would sit at the side of his bed. He said that I should go home, but I remained there whilst he dozed. A short while later he awoke and said, ‘You still here? Go home you need a rest. Go on, go!’ Those were the last words he spoke to me. As I left his room I turned around and could see his eyes peeping over his sheet and watching me. I said ‘Goodbye’ and left for home.

Next morning I phoned the unit at about 8 o’clock and asked how David was. They told me he had had an ‘agitated’ night but was resting now. He had asked to be helped into a sitting position and had drunk some orange juice. This was a hopeful sign to me. I said I would go over to the hospital with ‘his things’ and I arrived there at about 9.30. I was chatting to the staff nurse about David’s night on the unit and through the room window I noticed David turn onto his side whilst still in a sitting position. The nurse said for me to go in and have a chat with him.

It took only a couple of seconds to get to his bed and I said, ‘Hello Little One, I’m here’ I thought he had dozed off as he didn’t respond, His eyes were open, but recently he often had slept with open eyes. I took his hand and said his name and asked him to wake up. I stroked his head and his arm. He was warm, but very still. After a couple of minutes I called the staff nurse saying that I couldn’t revive David. He came over and asked me to leave the area and go sit in the sister’s office, which I did. A doctor was called immediately. I guessed what had happened, but after a few more minutes when the staff nurse came to tell me that David had passed away, it was a shock. I had wanted him to wake up, but he didn’t and I had missed the chance to say my final words to David by a few seconds. I was then allowed to sit with him whilst I said my goodbyes, but there was so much activity in the area I decided to go home and do my grieving there. David had looked so peaceful after he died; all the anguish had left his face. On Wednesday of this week, I went to see his body at the Chapel of Rest. But it wasn’t my David, he looked different, his mouth wasn’t right, I didn’t like what I saw, he was so tiny and frail, but I was thankful for being able to say a few more final words to him.

His funeral took place on Thursday and we had the most wonderful civil ceremony. Without exception all the mourners were delighted with what was said and our choice of music. I have a script of the service which I will treasure along with my photos of David, although my memories are my greatest source of comfort. David and I moved to Lincolnshire three years ago and we knew only our neighbour. When friends and family first heard of David’s illness in 2004, they gradually began to disappear, something that often happens I am told. Now I’m on my own but I am sure I will cope, we had such happy times and there is much to make me smile.

In October when David went for his regular check-up at the National Amyloidosis Centre in Hampstead, we met the guys from Only Men Aloud who were staying at the same hotel as us. I have written about the experience on the Only Men Aloud website Forum "http://www.onlymenaloud.com/". It was a special moment for both of us; we were really star struck at the time! I ordered their album but it arrived too late for David to hear it. It is superb. The first track is; ‘All By Myself…’

I have been touched by the messages of condolence received on these forums and have written of my experience in response to those who asked me to. Thank you.

David

[Dony]

My thoughts and prayers are with you at this time.

Hopefully by writing down your thoughts like this will offer you some comfort as time goes on.


RIP David.

[Abbeygoo]

Blimey pal, my thoughts are with you at this very sad time. As Dony has said sharing this with people (albeit anonymous and unknown) can help as I have experienced in the past.

Take care.

[Woodywizz]

Nothing we can say will make it better mate, but cherish those memories and you always have friends here that will always be here to listen.

[pantages]

Originally Posted by Abbeygoo

Blimey pal, my thoughts are with you at this very sad time. As Dony has said sharing this with people (albeit anonymous and unknown) can help as I have experienced in the past.

Take care.

It helps to able to write down my thoughts and feelings. I feel as though I am talking to someone and that they are listening.

[Abbeygoo]

Originally Posted by pantages

It helps to able to write down my thoughts and feelings. I feel as though I am talking to someone and that they are listening.

That's superb then. In a way we are all listening. Some people will respond, some will read and think of you. Hopefully, whichever way people choose to react will give you strength to carry on and remember your partner with a smile on your face even though there may be tears in your eyes.

[pantages]

Originally Posted by Woodywizz

Nothing we can say will make it better mate, but cherish those memories and you always have friends here that will always be here to listen.

Abbeygoo and Woodywizz, both from Manchester area. David's death was announced in last Saturday's Manchester Evening News, it should still be on their website as David Trace.

[SimonH]

Originally Posted by pantages

It helps to able to write down my thoughts and feelings. I feel as though I am talking to someone and that they are listening.

I'm listening, my thoughts are with you and sorry for the loss of your friend and partner.

[IronGiant]

May I offer my condolences, and apologise for deleting your duplicate at the same time as you deleted the other one... I've reinstated it.

Dave

[pantages]

Originally Posted by Abbeygoo

That's superb then. In a way we are all listening. Some people will respond, some will read and think of you. Hopefully, whichever way people choose to react will give you strength to carry on and remember your partner with a smile on your face even though there may be tears in your eyes.

Abbeygoo and Woodywizz, David's death announcement was in Manchester Evening News last Saturday. It should still be on their website under David Trace.

[pantages]

Originally Posted by IronGiant

May I offer my condolences, and apologise for deleting your duplicate at the same time as you deleted the other one... I've reinstated it.

Dave

So have I. At least that made me smile!

[Naaktgeboren]

I would like to offer my sincere condolences on the death of your partner, although 'thankfully' not having to go through this myself with a member of my own immediate family, I have been there for someone who went through similar events.

Although he has gone from your sight, cherish the memories and remember the good times never the bad

[Newton's Ring]

I'm sorry to hear of your loss.

[shahedz]

Realyy sorry to hear about your loss

[xit2050]

My sincere condolences.
Having nearly lost my wife last year after a cardiovascular accident, I can imagine how you must be feeling.
I wish you all the strength you might need.