INTO HOSPICE
/Why am I writing this? Why am I publishing it in a public domain? Is it a cry for help? Is it for attention? Is it for pity? Is it for my own catharsis? Is it because I want others to know? Is it helping me face my demons by processing it into words?
I am not sure. Right now, I am honestly not very sure of anything in my life. I hope it is none of the above in isolation but in reality, probably an element of some of them. My ethos falls into the mantra that a problem shared is a problem halved but as many of you will attest to, I am a private person. So why am I sharing my inner most feelings and the horrors we have had to endure. For some reason, I believe that keeping this blog going and giving an insight into what happened is the right thing for me, right now. I am also of the view that only people who want to read it will do so and those that don’t, wont.
The six months from the March 2017 diagnosis was and still is a myriad of incomprehensible emotions and consummate sadness. I still pinch myself every now and again to ensure I am not in some everlasting nightmare from which I am yet to wake which has culminated in the WORST possible outcome. I just cannot quite fathom how dedicated Terry was at attacking Sammy. To go from all clear to hospice in five months shows his hideous resolve. But, it is the pain and suffering that he caused her that I will never be able to comprehend. It is etched so very deeply in my memory. I used to believe that everything happened for a reason. Having witnessed the enduring anguish Terry inflicted on the kindest, most warm hearted, fun and loving soul, I no longer consider it to be a logic I adhere to.
From April, Sammy’s trips to hospital started becoming more frequent. Each stay then subsequently became longer as time progressed. The frequency and duration of hospital visits had a direct correlation to the amount of treatments, steroids and pain killers that Sammy had to succumb to both in quantity and strength. It is heart-breaking to delve too deep into how this started to take its toll on my darling Sammy. However, despite everything that was going on Sammy still managed to orchestrate and deliver, with aplomb, one of the best fundraisers I have ever been to in May 2017. She raised a staggering £121,000 for three extremely important charities. The night was an absolute belter and I can resolutely say that everyone had fun which is exactly what Sammy was all about. Never have I been more filled with pride with what Sammy achieved and the manner in which she did it. Her dogged determination and resilience to raise funds for others, despite her suffering, in the face of such adversity is a lesson to us all. Furthermore, she never ever complained about her own situation and pain.
In June Sammy had a prolonged stay in Parkside Hospital and it was following this that they decided the next step was a two-week course of full brain radiation. Just before this hideous treatment of last resort started Sammy made the valiant decision to cut her hair short. She remained stunning as ever! She was just so naturally beautiful. The cancer and drugs couldn’t take the twinkle out of those dazzling blue eyes or the tungsten tenacity she was made from.
Every day for the first two weeks of July 2017 Sammy had to go to the Royal Marsden and receive this most aggressive and invasive treatment. The white, lead lined radiotherapy room is stark and clinically clean. In the middle of the room is the bed which bears resemblance to an execution table. Next to it is the Cyber Knife. The highly intelligent, sophisticated and refined brother of the robotic arm that appends car doors on a factory belt. To ensure complete accuracy Sammy would be physically affixed to the execution bed by a solid moulded head mask to ensure she could not move an iota. Given Sammy’s claustrophobia, fastening the head mask was a grim warm up to the full brain radiation.
Each day Sammy made the journey to the Marsden her strength wilted. With each brain frazzle a new dose of tiredness overcame her. Not only that but Sammy was exceptionally intelligent and to witness her not be able to remember basic tasks caused her a magnitude of internal suffering on top of the physical torment. Simultaneously to the treatment there was the continual growth of Terry’s gittish family that added to her cerebral pressure and the resultant agony. The radiotherapy takes time to kick in and whilst the side effects are almost immediate it would take over a month to know whether Terry had taken a kicking at all. The cancer, the side effects of the steroids, treatment and full brain radio make my eyes stream as I remember what our darling girl was subjected to. However, in typical Sammy style, she took it in her stride and made sure she was as little a burden on her family as she possibly could be.
As July turned to August it was clear that the radio was not able to subpoena Terry into retreat. On Monday 14th August it was my birthday. Sammy made the hugest effort to spoil me despite her own anguish. We had breakfast together when upon she gave me my most treasured present which I wear every day I go to work. Rafiki cufflinks, made of gold and modelled on him. They have Sammy’s initials on one side and mine on the other. As ever she had put so much thought and love into them and absolutely nailed it. I couldn’t have been more bowled over by them nor cherish them more http://www.hattierickards.com/jewellery/personalised/cufflinks. I will never ever forget what Sammy said to me that breakfast. She said to me “when we have children we can get them engraved with their birthdays too”. She really wasn’t going to give up! That evening Sammy mustered all the energy she could and we went to our favourite restaurant, Medlar. It was our last meal out together because later that week we took Sammy into Royal Trinity Hospice.