Christine's story

I met Keith in 1972, he was 18 and I was 17 years old. We met on a blind date and I was so nervous! But I shouldn’t have been, he was so handsome in his Ben Sherman shirt, stay-press trousers, and crombie coat (the fashion of the time!) but best of all was he had a Lambretta scooter! I was smitten. We married two years later, and it was a magical day!

Fast forward a few years and we bought our first house and then had two lovely boys. As a family, we loved the outdoors and spent many weekends and holidays exploring the beautiful British Isles. Keith enjoyed sport, watching it on TV, not participating! He was such a fan of Rugby Union and cricket, when he was able he’d excitedly try to go to a match. His other passions were touring, cycling, hurling, and bowls. I’d often find him watching broadcastings from all over the world.


Keith worked all his life in manufacturing which was very physically demanding. Over the years it took its toll on his body so after a nasty injury requiring surgery he decided to retire early. Shortly after this, a tremor that he’d had for years became much worse. He was deemed suitable for brain surgery to ease the symptoms which seemed promising. He then had surgery to place a source of power into his chest to stimulate the probe in his brain. The surgery wasn’t a cure but it did give him some relief. Unfortunately, it came with side effects which affected the muscles in his neck and the ability to swallow.

Keith then developed a very painful issue with his ankle which really affected his mobility. By this time I also had retired from work in education and we were looking forward to a celebratory ‘push the boat out’ holiday with no restrictions or costs of school holidays. Sadly, this never happened. In August of 2022, we were both invited to have a lung health check by our GP. As I’d answered ‘no’ to all of the questions in a telephone appointment, no further action was needed. However, Keith had smoked so he was invited for a scan, He was then invited back for a deeper scan. Alarm bells started to ring for both of us when he received an appointment to see a specialist. The scan clearly showed white dots which we were told were small tumours, a tumor in his oesophagus had also been found.
 

This was not the news we expected but we thought that surgery and therapy would hopefully eradicate the tumours. Instead of a referral to a surgeon, we were surprised to be seeing an oncologist. We attended the appointment full of hope -but it was not to be. The oncologist gently told us that Keith had stage four cancer of the oesophagus which had spread to his lungs and his liver. His condition was terminal and treatment would be palliative. Keith took this devastating news calmly. I, however, couldn’t speak. I couldn’t comprehend what she was saying. We had so much more living to do after working so hard all of our lives.

Keith took all of the treatments offered to him. Chemotherapy made him sick sometimes but he never complained. Apart from this, he looked quite well. He was able to enjoy our son's wedding by my side in October and a happy family Christmas which I am very grateful for.

Things changed after that. He developed a clot on his lung but was allowed home from the hospital with medication. Unfortunately, just two weeks later he again became unwell and was admitted to hospital with another clot in his leg and also pneumonia. A few days later I received a call from his specialist asking me to join her for a meeting with Keith on the ward.  She delivered the news that both his tumours had grown. Treatment would stop and she said the words I didn’t want to hear “Keith doesn’t have long left” and that we only had a couple of months left together.

A decision was made to get Keith home with whatever he needed to be nursed there. My lounge was turned into a hospital. We had a team of fabulous community nurses who came whenever they were needed, day or night, and our MacMillian nurse was amazing. Looking after Keith was physically hard, helping him move became much harder as the days went by. Helping him in the small hours of the night was so tiring but I tried not to let it show. He would constantly say ‘sorry’. It wasn’t a chore to me, it was a privilege.

In the middle of the fifth week at home, he told me he ‘needed to be gone’. I could see the massive lumps on his body, he was suffering and in pain. On that Saturday the Macmillan nurse gently told him that being at home had become too hard for him and me, she made a call to Dove House. We were so grateful that a bed was available. It was time for me to be Keith’s wife and not his carer.
 
I tried not to show how heartbroken I was as he left our home for the last time. I told myself it was for the best that he’d be comfortable and pain free. The nursing staff at Dove House were so good at settling him, sorting his pain and going the extra mile to meet his needs. For this, my family and I will be forever grateful. We were able to have family and friends visit at any time, and Keith was able to say goodbye to those he loved. I even took our beloved dog, Bob, to see him. He loved that.

The staff made him comfortable as he slowly deteriorated. I held him in my arms, our boys held his hands. We told him we loved him as he took his last breath. I like to think he knew we were all there surrounding him with love. Keith was only 68 years old. We had been married just two weeks short of 48 years, together for 50 years. He was the love of my life.

Through the eight months of his cancer battle, Keith was so brave. He rarely complained. He was so, so strong. During the four day stay at Dove House, we were introduced to the Family Support Team. They offered us their help should we feel we needed it. A few weeks later I felt quite lost, not knowing what to do with myself. So, I made the call. The therapy sessions were an enormous help to me, they helped get me through my grief and see a future. I’m so grateful. I know that anytime I should need help, they are there for me.

I was also introduced to the Welcome Wednesday group. They are people like me, who are dealing with bereavement. I can go there and cry, no one is bothered. They listen and offer comfort. I was worried on my first visit but I shouldn’t have been. I was welcomed with open arms, offered a drink and cake and shown a seat.
These people have become friends, I feel lucky to have been embraced by these lovely people. Chatting with a ‘new’ lady in the Welcome Wednesday group recently made me realise how far I’ve come on my bereavement journey. I have the amazing staff at Dove House to thank for that. ‘Thank you’ simply isn’t enough to express my gratitude.