Monday, October 11, 2004

2 Weeks Already

It's been 2 weeks since my Michael died. I thought things would get "easier" after the funeral and all the fuss had died down. It just doesn't get easier though, does it?

We had just moved into the area 3 months ago, so no friends locally, no people we know close by. This was our fresh start. We both had new jobs and Michael had a big promotion to bring him here. We were also tied into a 2-year, capped, fixed term mortgage. If I leave here now it will cost me a fortune in penalties. Plus I couldn't afford to buy a new place on my salary alone.

There are no casseroles on our doorstep, counsellors that were meant to have called me haven't. I was meant to go back to work this morning but I couldn't step out the door. Two weeks ago, this minute, Michael was taking his last breath.

There were so many people around before and after the funeral, but the next day everyone was gone, and now I am alone in our house. I miss him so terribly and can't stop crying.

Everyone at the funeral complimented me on "how well I was coping" and that I would be “feeling better soon”. Coping? I am functionless. Better?!? I will never be better.

Saturday, October 02, 2004

I can't forgive myself

I was only married for 5 days when my husband Michael passed away this Monday. He died from what had started as a suspicious mole on his back that was ignored by the doctors for too long, even after repeated requests to have it removed. By the time they took any notice it had already spread to his lymph nodes. I kick myself daily for not intervening. Michael didn’t want me to; he said he could handle it. He always valiantly defended the rights of others but was never particularly assertive when it came to defending his own.

We actually thought, three months ago, that this “thing” was beaten. He had been given the “all clear” and was supposed to go back and see his doctor on September 29. (He died two days before then!) All through August he was calling them because he felt so sick, but they wouldn’t see him, they were “too busy” with new patients. They told him to go and see his GP to help with the side effects of the anti-cancer drugs he was taking.

By the time I finally intervened and called his oncologist and demanded a closer appointment…. it turned out to be too late. His oncologist said “Michael, you should have come to see me sooner”. This was after he had called them half a dozen times to try and bring his appointment forward. It wasn’t the anti-cancer drugs that were making him sick, it was the fact that they weren’t working at all and the cancer had come back with a vengeance. It had already spread to his liver and right lung. My Michael was dead two weeks after that appointment.

I simply cannot forgive myself for not stepping in sooner.