I’ll give you a brief summary of our life together so far… Our first date was 21.04.14 I actually fell in love with him about a month before that – when I first met him. He didn’t ask me out, so I took charge and posted him a note with my number on asking him for a beer, anyway… We got there in the end. My daughter fell in love with him, she thought it was amazing that Martin had a car with blue lights and sirens he could switch on if he was stuck in traffic and was busting for a wee. At the beginning of September it was decided Martin would sack off his playboy apartment and move in with us. Happy days! We booked a holiday for October our forward planning of life was generally quite short sighted but exciting times were afoot. At the same time yer’ man realised he was overdue his surveillance appointment for his reflux issue he has… We book in, I take him over, he got totally drugged up did the camera down the throat job… Falls out of the hospital, takes me for lunch, forgets his wallet, goes home, sleeps it off and we forget alllllll about it.
24th September 14. Letter arrives… Come in for an appointment that’s been made for you… ‘I’ll go on my own, if I’m going to kark it I doubt it’ll be before 8pm’. 6.30pm that evening ‘Rob, I’ve got cancer’.
There was never a question if I was going to stick around for this. As the great Marilyn once said ‘if you can’t handle me at my worse, you sure as hell don’t deserve me at my best’. We would stand united and kick that nasty fucker out of our life….
So, after not much of a holiday, lots of staging tests, nights at home throwing ourselves on the floor sobbing and screaming and being quite unsure how either of us w’re going to cope… We got the news that actually, they would just chop it out. A big operation that would take a lot of time to recover from (but it’s ok, because he’s so young) then he would be cured…
23rd November 14. Day before op. I drop him off at Tommy’s. I go home, drink wine and cry.
24th November 14. Day of op. I clean the house. It’s probably cleaner then the OR he’s in. Various friends turn up with wine, and leave. Prof Mason eventually calls to say he was pleased with how it went. He’s in recovery.
Over the next 3 weeks, he suffers a collapsed lung, getting stuck in a K hole, fluid that surrounds his brain leaking out of his spine and various other awful things. Following his release from hospital recovery was slow to begin with but then you could see him getting stronger ever day.
Fast forward to March 15. ‘Martin, I’ve found this place, I think we should get married there…’ So we booked it. The idea of marriage never really appealed to me before, but for a moment there, the chance of us being able to officially spend the rest of our lives together was going to be taken away from us.
August 21st 2015. We got married, it was great, neither of us realised how many amazing people we had in our lives that we love and love us back.
October 5th 2015. Martin had been complaining of a sore chest for weeks, today we found out the cancer had come back. It was in his lungs. I coped well, I thought no problem we will fight this like we did last time… Then it’s explained to me ‘This won’t be cured Rob, it will never go away’. I shut down. This can’t be right? 6 weeks we’ve been married this is some sick joke right? This isn’t what we agreed… Why do people keep asking if I’m ok? Fuck am I! In fact why do people keep asking me a question I honestly don’t know how to answer. Texts, calls, emails… I switched my phone off for 2 days and my dad rocks up… He lives in Germany. As much as I adore you all for caring so much, I’m grieving and need time to come to terms with what’s happening and I can’t be held responsible for how everyone else feels about what’s going on too. Add in, that we have no idea when the treatment starts, how long it will last, how aggressive this cancer is, lots of doctors talking to us with the sad face tilted head expression without actually explaining anything that I can remember, just that they’re all very surprised about us being back there…
so I kinda snap out of my funk for a day or 2 and this happens…
22nd October 2015. It’s in his eye. We leave the hospital, having decided we don’t like anyone in that department much at all, walk into town and get drunk.
Chemo starts on Monday… I’ll let you know how that goes.