Tears on my pillows

Dean (Amanda's husband) here.

It's well after midnight as I type this out. A day of caring and putting Amanda to bed and with everything that's going on right now, it's a rare moment of solitude for me.

So here we are, two days after receiving the dreaded news.

What's been happening?

Sharing the news with family and friends (Amanda's MANY friends in particular)

Starting to spend even more time with the one I love.

We've got everything running to a timetable here. It's how Amanda wants it - of course it is. We have a diary system in place so Amanda can see her friends, some possibly for the last time. Her cancer chum who helped to set up this blog with Amanda visited Thursday and was devastated. Although we've only known her since early 2014 during which time she was undertaking her own battle with breast cancer, they've become best breast friends.. She says the following to me "I don't understand it Dean. She can't die. She just can't" I can't answer that. For someone with little faith, my rational side says it's just Amanda's turn. But when you consider she's never drunk, smoked, always looked after herself and eats healthily, some invisible force hasn't half shoved her in the back leaving her exposed. And that, my friends, is simply not fair.

During Friday 23rd October, we awash with a flurry of deliveries. So many flowers now that we're charging £5 an admission into our newly created botanical gardens. I'm dealing with so many requests to see Amanda, messages from complete strangers who have been compelled by the unbelievable storylines in our very own soap opera in the last two years ("It's unbelievable, no one would ever write THAT....")

And chocolates. so many chocolates. On one hand, it'll keep me happy for the next three years...although I would rather share them with someone very special alongside me. On the other hand, with Amanda's increasingly fragile appetite, it's a cruel, cruel torture.

Our contact from the very renowned local hospice Dougie Mac arrived today and immediately went about her work in a compassionate but also very efficient way (Amanda approves of efficiency). There's such as stigma associated with a cancer hospice, they provide so much more, such as supportive care for families and carers, something we'll learn to lean on so much in future months. Within  hours of arrival at our flat, Davina (our contact) had already arranged for a wheelchair to be made available so I can take Amanda out for assisted walks while she deals with her weakness (please don't be alarmed at this 'weakness' - she hasn't eaten for days and as a concession today, she's resumed taking the Dexamethasone steroid which should ease some issues affecting her head and kickstart her appetite). She also arranged for our prescription remotely so we didn't have to wait for hours for a GP. She covered the services provided, including various facilities available to assist Amanda, such as various therapies, treatments and the like. It sounds like a home from home. We did have to laugh at the constant interruptions of flowers and chocolate deliveries arriving during her 150 minute stay. She also tells us we're able to claim for a Personal independence Payment of £80+ per week to assist with things.

It's not been easy since Wednesday. There have been many tears, including a three way hug waterfall between Amanda's dad, Amanda and myself. I've found my outpouring of tears a relief to be honest. I've held back far too much over the years but this is something else. (Sorry to the Doctor at Trent Vale Medical Practice who I broke down in front of today, sorry to Cheryl who I broke down in front of today, sorry to Davina from Dougie Mac....you get the drift.) I managed to get to my mum and dad's briefly tonight. Mum has lost two stones in the last 6 weeks and not well (tests next week) and my dad is still recovering from her hip operation. I don't know what we were talking about tonight when i was there. It was something innocuous and all of a sudden, the waterworks fell. 

This is what happened after I wrung my handkerchief out to dry tonight...

Haven't seen my dad cry for such a long time, and it's heartbreaking for me to see him like this, especially with his Parkinson's and hip condition making him feel so helpless. I will take Amanda round to see them when she's fit to do so.

And then there's my darling wife. We've cuddled, we've laughed, we've cried, we've cried some more, we've laughed at messaged from people we've never met thinking "Who are they", we've had flowers from people whose names have been misprinted on the attached labels so had fun guessing who they should have been with. We've held hands in bed, we've cried for absolutely no reason whatsoever when talking about the most silly things. The things that really set me off though are when she lays her head on my shoulder. I'm lying there within inches of the evil cancer lurking within her skull, completely disabled and helpless as I can't do anything about it. We have shiny pillow material and the tears fall and echo out loud as they hit the surface. She's been saying she's dying for quite some time now. I was of the opinion that until we're told medically there's no further chance, then that's the path I will take. that path was blocked off on Wednesday.

Amanda is struggling with texting and her ability to type. I've already had her dictating her blog to me and texting on her behalf from her phone. I've got her passwords to various accounts as she has difficulty remembering these now. I'm hoping that the resumption of dexamethasone  may improve things, although we were told that things would decline. I don't want this yet, not to my angel.

Amanda has also arranged for her financial advisor to call around, Like it or not, we have to start the process of approaching the companies who own our policies to start the process of calling our monies in. Also we're having a solicitor around next week to sort out an updated will. I'd much rather invite round a Vietnamese Pot Bellied Pig for some naked wrestling to be honest. It's all grown up stuff and despite being grown up, we shouldn't be doing this for at least 20 years.

Can I do this? Do I have the strength to do this? I don't know, but I'll do whatever i can to make Amanda's time with me as comfortable with others.

I am aware of the outpouring (and 'pouring' being the appropriate word for many of you shedding tears) on my own Facebook page. While i'm unable to respond to all your comments, observations and fantastic photographic memories that you have been sharing - after all - my time with my wife is very important right now - we are enjoying them.

I'll continue to try and give an insight to what we're going through where time allows going forwards. It won't be pretty, but it's not really supposed to be, is it?