Some of my art/craftwork.
This is the first entry of my blog ‘Mesothelioma Memoir’.
It’s hard to begin, but I have followed several other blogs on mesothelioma sufferers and their partners and they have helped me tremendously during a difficult time of adjustment. I feel that if my entries can help others in the same way, then it has to be worth the struggle of writing my thoughts and feelings down.
I have been disabled since a car accident in 1989, but have found life rich and rewarding despite, and sometimes because, of this.
My husband has always been the fit and healthy half of our wonderful relationship. He was brought up on farms with a healthy lifestyle and spent five years in the Royal Navy, as an engineer in the boiler room, as his father wanted him to experience life away from farming. He loved his travels around the world, but eventually went back to the South of England and dairy farming, working twelve to fourteen hours a day, six to seven days a week. A hard but rewarding life, until eleven years ago when he was made redundant in his early fifties and became my carer.
Six years ago he developed early Hodgkins Disease – a blood cancer. Six months of chemotherapy later, he beat it and after five cancer-free years a ‘cure’ was pronounced.
That was in the January of 2010. In the November of 2010 he became badly out of breath with moderate exercise and suffered periods of anxiety. I packed him off down the doctors as at 60 years of age, it could have been a heart problem. But no, he had litres of fluid around his right lung; this was drained, but returned within two weeks. Just before Christmas of 2010 he had a pleuradesis (probably spelled wrongly), which involved draining the fluid from between the two layers encasing his lung and introducing a talc that sealed the space with scar tissue, so that no more fluid could accumulate.
In January 2011, he was told that the biopsy taken at the time revealed that he had mixed-cell pleural mesothelioma. We had never heard of it, but neither of of us liked the sound of the words.
Thought I’d write a poem for my blog. It says quite a bit about me….
I like to read – but love to write –
to watch the words drip from my pen
creating images clear and then –
sway emotions, pain or mirth –
that hearts must rend
or joy may birth;
wondering what will happen
next – where and when
will story tend
a pathway bend,
the broken mend,
our hero wend
to journey’s end?