Your Stories

A poem in memory of a special friend

They had told you of your fate that day As I sat there holding your hand Your confusion and anger was so obvious And not hard to understand You could not accept the outcome And you fought it to the end Not ready to leave just yet You had things you needed to vent So much you had to do And so little time to do it Although your body was weak Strong was still your spirit

Where neuroscience and faith meet: a good death

What does it take to die well? Neuroscience is now offering astonishing new insights to help answer this age-old question, revealing some amazing overlap with the ancient wisdom of the world's main faiths.

The pain of my father's death

My father died suddenly from coronary heart disease. I spoke to him on the day of his death, a lovely conversation about him buying a new house and how he would help me. That evening, I got a phone call from my mum saying that dad had collapsed after leaving the pub and an ambulance crew were trying to resuscitate him. I prayed for a miracle. When I arrived with my husband and three brothers, I saw my father on the pavement with a blanket over his body and was told by a police officer that he had died. The pain was unbearable and I remember crying while holding my dad.

What was I waiting for?

My dad died of cancer on 3 October 2011. I happened to be on my way to see him that weekend with my three-year-old daughter, Jessica. He had received bad news that his treatment wasn't working. Although he tried to sound brave on the phone, I could tell he wasn't telling me everything, so my daughter and I set off from our home in Ireland to visit him in Norfolk.

There's never enough time left

I am 55 and have four children aged 17,18, 23 and 24. I've been a single mum for 17 years after their father left me when our youngest was born. I was diagnosed with stage 4 [advanced] bowel cancer three years ago, after being misdiagnosed for 18 months. This has now spread to my lungs, lymph nodes and brain. I guess I am lucky to still be here. I am so scared that I will leave my children with terrible memories of my death that will scar them and destroy their youthful, carefree innocence.

Much too young (on the death of a child)

When is a life cut short, too young? When your child is born, you love, you care, you dream, not for yourself but for the little bundle that you hold in your hands. Your precious cargo starts to grow, so many things happen that you can miss in the blink of an eye. The first smile, the first garbled message; so many firsts; too little time. Before you take your next breath, you suddenly realise that your son is growing and learning and being. The small child that was is now becoming independent; thinking independent, doing independent, making choices, living, loving and laughing.

Cancer is an illness, not a battle

I am presently living with a prognosis of terminal secondary breast cancer which has spread to my lungs. Whilst the care I have received from my GP and the Outreach service of the local hospice has been exemplary , I am increasingly upset by the manner in which cancer is referred to in our society. I have had friends talk about "my fight" and "my struggle" and the TV is currently running a campaign in which an angry looking woman screams " Up yours cancer" at the camera.

From undertaker to maternity unit worker

You'd think as an ex-undertaker I'd have a pretty good understanding of death but when my mother suddenly fell into a diabetic coma and died it was a huge shock (in was the mid-Seventies and people really had little understanding of diabetes) and I realised that seeing other people dealing with death was in no way a preparation for dealing with it yourself. I grew up!

Child resuscitation

This is something I passionately want to see brought out in the open and discussed more. My terminally ill son collapsed and was ultimately resuscitated and intubated. The next two weeks were terrible, culminating in choosing the day he was to die. With more information, planning and open discussion this need not have happened and his death would likely have happened at the point of collapse or shortly after.

My experience of euthanasia

It is 10 and 15 years ago respectively, that my parents died. I am Dutch, and they had both opted for euthanasia.

Search form

Main menu

Share Your Story

Press Release Sign up

Your Stories

A poem in memory of a special friend

Where neuroscience and faith meet: a good death

The pain of my father's death

What was I waiting for?

There's never enough time left

Much too young (on the death of a child)

Cancer is an illness, not a battle

From undertaker to maternity unit worker

Child resuscitation

My experience of euthanasia

Pages

Search form

Main menu

Share Your Story

Press Release Sign up

You are here

Your Stories

Pages