Your Stories

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.

Losing Mel, the love of my life

Real love only found its way to me five years ago, when I met Mel. One year into our relationship, Mel was diagnosed with non-Hodgkin's lymphoma. He suffered so much with the intense itching that you can get with this and almost had a breakdown, but as chemo started the itching subsided and we thought he would be, if not cured, then in remission for hopefully years. This was not to be. The cancer returned with a vengeance and he then went on to have high dose chemo with stem cell transplant.

Getting rid of her clothes. Well, at least trying to

How did you guys (and girls) take care of your partner's clothes? It felt like climbing Mount Kilimanjaro, until my kids came in and helped out. Then it felt like a fun dress-up party. Here is how I remember it. Sleepless night. The first since Jennifer’s death last month. I stagger to the loo and try, in vain, to pee away yesterday’s skid marks. Then, I happen to see the shelf with the toilet freshener and some candles. There’s also a mug with a toothbrush, and a little jewellery box with two tampons. I’d never noticed them before.

Leading my mum's and my partner's dad's funeral

Planning and delivering these special events was a privilege that turned my heart and mind inside and out. I experienced a poise, strength and power that was extraordinary. A service at a crematorium is like a symphony: 30 minutes. It has different movements and moods. I discovered a gift to get it "right". I have learnt and am learning so much. My friend, a woman vicar, is writing a liturgy for people who have had a bad funeral experience - extraordinary. I believe that helping people say goodbye is the greatest thing that a human being can do for another person. More of your stories

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Your Stories

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

Losing Mel, the love of my life

Getting rid of her clothes. Well, at least trying to

Leading my mum's and my partner's dad's funeral

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