Chapter One - 'Admittance to Hospital'
I have found love several times in my life, but never envisaged finding it in a hospital ward of terminally-ill patients.
It was Boxing Day, 2010 when I became breathless and started running a high temperature. I’d been diagnosed with a terminal type of leukemia (CLL) four years previously and had received six months of chemo therapy in early 2007, which seemed to have stabilised the condition. Over the past two years, because of the absence of virtually any immune system with which to fight off illness or infection, any cold passed on to me would run the risk of turning into flu and any bug caught might kill me.
It was Boxing Day, 2010 when I became breathless and started running a high temperature. I’d been diagnosed with a terminal type of leukemia (CLL) four years previously and had received six months of chemo therapy in early 2007, which seemed to have stabilised the condition. Over the past two years, because of the absence of virtually any immune system with which to fight off illness or infection, any cold passed on to me would run the risk of turning into flu and any bug caught might kill me.
I’d always feared from the start of my illness that having no effective immune system would prove to be the eventual death of me. I always sensed that even before the cancer returned to haunt me again, I’d be playing Russian Roulette with my life in-between. Each time I placed my body within the breathing distance of another person who was carrying some unknown bug or germ, or harbouring the start of a cold; every time I shook hands or came into close proximity with another who had started to come down with some infection, I was essentially risking my life.
My choice towards continued existence was therefore twofold. I could cut myself off from all people most of the time and remain housebound like some hermit or domestic prisoner, enforcing all house visitors to have a full medical examination before they called, besides insisting that they arrive at my door wearing a mask that covered both mouth and nasal passage! Alternatively, I could determine to live a relatively normal life for as long as possible, taking reasonable precautions not to invite added sickness back into my life through carelessness.
My choice towards continued existence was therefore twofold. I could cut myself off from all people most of the time and remain housebound like some hermit or domestic prisoner, enforcing all house visitors to have a full medical examination before they called, besides insisting that they arrive at my door wearing a mask that covered both mouth and nasal passage! Alternatively, I could determine to live a relatively normal life for as long as possible, taking reasonable precautions not to invite added sickness back into my life through carelessness.
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I was financially independent enough to have a cleaner called Jane who came twice a week to tidy up my small cottage in Haworth, and Mrs Hall; a kindly woman of widowed status who attended to the rest of my daily needs. Mrs Hall was paid to do my shopping, washing and ironing, taking my clothes to the cleaners and cooking my evening meal. I would always make my own breakfast, as this allowed me to sleep in and to get up when I was ready to. I never saw the point of living alone if one couldn’t pamper oneself with the smaller luxuries of life!
Mrs Hall would prepare me an evening meal during mid-week days, but on Saturday and Sundays I would either eat out or cook something simple for myself. Mrs Hall was a widow on a state pension only. This meant that the £50 I gave her weekly (cash in hand), was very useful and kept the wolf from her door. We were therefore mutually beneficial in each other’s lives.
Mrs Hall would prepare me an evening meal during mid-week days, but on Saturday and Sundays I would either eat out or cook something simple for myself. Mrs Hall was a widow on a state pension only. This meant that the £50 I gave her weekly (cash in hand), was very useful and kept the wolf from her door. We were therefore mutually beneficial in each other’s lives.
Given my terminal illness, I considered myself fortunate that I’d never fathered children. My wife had divorced me some eight years earlier, and to tell the truth, after that relationship ended I had no immediate need or desire to start another one. Besides, I was now approaching my 56th year of life and had become accustomed to enjoying my own company
There is a luxury in living alone that few married people ever know and will never experience. Eating what, where, when and how one wants to, listening to one’s favourite music on the radio instead of hearing the television constantly droning on in the background, and trying to ignore the nagging complaint of another because you haven’t yet done this or that as quickly or as satisfactorily as they wanted you to! All of this is the lost treasure of many a married man. One can even fart freely without looking around to see if another is within hearing distance and ignore the smell of indiscretion without receiving one look of disapproval!
There is a luxury in living alone that few married people ever know and will never experience. Eating what, where, when and how one wants to, listening to one’s favourite music on the radio instead of hearing the television constantly droning on in the background, and trying to ignore the nagging complaint of another because you haven’t yet done this or that as quickly or as satisfactorily as they wanted you to! All of this is the lost treasure of many a married man. One can even fart freely without looking around to see if another is within hearing distance and ignore the smell of indiscretion without receiving one look of disapproval!
When my ex-wife initially told me that she wanted a divorce, stating that our marital relationship had passed its ‘sell by date’, I was more shocked than heartbroken. I’d felt a distancing between us during the three years prior to her walking out on me, but being of Roman Catholic persuasion, I’d married for life and would have put up with the life-long union between us before ever contemplating abandoning it. Consequently, had she not made the decision to end our marriage and separate we would still have been unhappily wed, even if spiritually bound in the eyes of the Church.
Naturally, I saw the occasional woman from time to time after my divorce to satisfy my physical needs, and while my seed had never proved fertile enough to give my wife the children she wanted, it still required spilling from time to time if I wasn’t to explode during moments of peak frustration! Apart from my brief occasional excursions into another woman’s bed, I had no desire ever again to hitch my wagon to that of another’s.
My wife’s insistence on a divorce freed me to do what I otherwise would never have done, left to my own devices. I embraced my new-found freedom like a bird released from its trapped cage after many years of imprisonment, and once I’d flown freely again, I was determined never to allow another woman to clip my wings!
Naturally, I saw the occasional woman from time to time after my divorce to satisfy my physical needs, and while my seed had never proved fertile enough to give my wife the children she wanted, it still required spilling from time to time if I wasn’t to explode during moments of peak frustration! Apart from my brief occasional excursions into another woman’s bed, I had no desire ever again to hitch my wagon to that of another’s.
My wife’s insistence on a divorce freed me to do what I otherwise would never have done, left to my own devices. I embraced my new-found freedom like a bird released from its trapped cage after many years of imprisonment, and once I’d flown freely again, I was determined never to allow another woman to clip my wings!
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There was no point referring myself to the hospital on Christmas Day when I first started to feel unwell as I knew there would only be a skeleton emergency staff if I self-admitted. I considered phoning Mrs Hall, but then refrained from doing so after I remembered that her daughter was visiting her from Sussex over Christmas. The poor woman was eagerly looking forward to seeing her only daughter this year and it would have been too cruel to spoil her Christmas through any change to her plans. I knew that if she even got a whiff of my illness, she’d drop Christmas on the spot and be around faster than a blue-arsed fly. That was the type of woman she was; a good Christian woman through and through.
The next morning, my breathlessness and temperature became worse and my energy levels crashed. I could hardly stand and was unable to walk two yards without breaking out into a bout of continuous coughing.
I knew that I was seriously ill and phoned for an emergency ambulance to take me into the A&E immediately. I arrived at Airedale Hospital at 7.00 am on Boxing Day morning and after being examined, I was immediately admitted to a waiting bay for the allocation of a bed. I was constantly monitored during my lengthy wait for a bed and had numerous tests done from my trolley.
The reason for my emergency entrance into hospital soon became clear when the x-ray discovered a collapsed lung, a bad chest infection and the presence of a new cancer, to add to the other terminal cancer I already had.
My new cancer was essentially an extension and transformation of my original cancer. Two large nodes at the base of my chest wall informed the consultant that I’d been very lucky to have discovered the condition no later than I did, as it was far advanced and in need of immediate aggressive chemotherapy treatment just as soon as my body was strong enough to withstand the treatment regime. I was told that had the new cancer (Lymphoma), been discovered only weeks later, it would most definitely have been too late to do anything at all to prevent its rapid advancement and deadly consequences.
I knew that I was seriously ill and phoned for an emergency ambulance to take me into the A&E immediately. I arrived at Airedale Hospital at 7.00 am on Boxing Day morning and after being examined, I was immediately admitted to a waiting bay for the allocation of a bed. I was constantly monitored during my lengthy wait for a bed and had numerous tests done from my trolley.
The reason for my emergency entrance into hospital soon became clear when the x-ray discovered a collapsed lung, a bad chest infection and the presence of a new cancer, to add to the other terminal cancer I already had.
My new cancer was essentially an extension and transformation of my original cancer. Two large nodes at the base of my chest wall informed the consultant that I’d been very lucky to have discovered the condition no later than I did, as it was far advanced and in need of immediate aggressive chemotherapy treatment just as soon as my body was strong enough to withstand the treatment regime. I was told that had the new cancer (Lymphoma), been discovered only weeks later, it would most definitely have been too late to do anything at all to prevent its rapid advancement and deadly consequences.
As things turned out, I would be in hospital for six weeks before my chest was drained of fluid. This was followed by a six-month programme of chemotherapy as an out-patient. During my initial time in the hospital, I had numerous tests and examinations. There were x-rays, C.T. scans, E.C.G. tests, blood cultures and blood tests, along with numerous antibiotic, platelet, and blood infusions. As soon as a place was found on the cancer ward I was moved there. Although I was unaware at the time as to how serious my condition was, unknown to me, I’d had a D.N.R. (Do Not Resuscitate) placed on my medical file and I almost died twice during the first two weeks following admission.
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I have always possessed an optimistic attitude, and though cancer had been a constant in my life for several years, my positive attitude had undoubtedly been my variable! Despite being divorced, I still believed in God and the Roman Catholic Church, and had not once feared for the ending of my life when cancer struck a second time.
I imagine that it must be almost impossible to remain a good Catholic for fifty years of one’s life and then abandon long-established beliefs, along with decades of church conditioning, just because the woman you’d married in good faith decided to divorce you. I strongly believed it would be God who decided when my time was up and not some body malfunctioning.
I imagine that it must be almost impossible to remain a good Catholic for fifty years of one’s life and then abandon long-established beliefs, along with decades of church conditioning, just because the woman you’d married in good faith decided to divorce you. I strongly believed it would be God who decided when my time was up and not some body malfunctioning.
Never having sought divorce and having resisted it for as long as possible, once I realised that I couldn’t prevent it, I stopped trying! After I’d given up all resistance, I was pleasantly surprised to feel instant relief. I was obliged to concede that divorce could make me the ‘beneficiary’ of a happy future more easily than remaining an unhappy spouse in a broken marriage ever would!
A large part of me could not deny that I also needed the freedom and emotional space as much as my wife did, and now it had occurred, I welcomed it! I’d tasted freedom again and gradually conditioned myself to the lasting benefit of change.
Had Pope Benedict XV1 himself tried to bribe me to stay a prisoner to my marriage vows by awarding me a ‘Papal Order of Knighthood’, even he couldn’t have persuaded me back into my former marriage. Little did I realise at the time, but even Pope Benedict’s commitment to exercising the daily role of papacy was to shortly pass its ‘sell-by-date’ when he resigned his position in 1913. If Christ’s vicar on earth, the one who stood closest to God couldn’t stick it out from within his palatial surroundings, what chance had a mere mortal such as I of choosing to remain a prisoner of a failed marriage?
Once I’d taken the decision to remain separated from a wife who no longer wanted to live with me, it felt like a heavy emotional weight had been lifted from my chest, enabling me to breathe freely once more. Without realising it at the time, a significant change had occurred within my belief system. Whereas previously, my heart and mind would never have countenanced the propriety of ‘divorce’ under any set of circumstances, having it imposed on me, forced me to taste the undeniable benefits of its consequences. I found myself gradually changing my long-held belief ‘that divorce was always wrong’ for the couple concerned. I had now come to believe ‘that it was sometimes necessary!’
This significant change of belief I’d experienced, prevented me having the emotional breakdown I might otherwise have had if I’d tried to hopelessly reconcile the irreconcilable. The acceptance of my wife’s decision to seek a divorce, along with my acknowledgement of her personal right to obtain one, was to prove essential in clearing any mental blockage holding me back. My emotional conversion had enabled me to ‘move on’ with my life without feeling a future victim of past circumstances within it!
A large part of me could not deny that I also needed the freedom and emotional space as much as my wife did, and now it had occurred, I welcomed it! I’d tasted freedom again and gradually conditioned myself to the lasting benefit of change.
Had Pope Benedict XV1 himself tried to bribe me to stay a prisoner to my marriage vows by awarding me a ‘Papal Order of Knighthood’, even he couldn’t have persuaded me back into my former marriage. Little did I realise at the time, but even Pope Benedict’s commitment to exercising the daily role of papacy was to shortly pass its ‘sell-by-date’ when he resigned his position in 1913. If Christ’s vicar on earth, the one who stood closest to God couldn’t stick it out from within his palatial surroundings, what chance had a mere mortal such as I of choosing to remain a prisoner of a failed marriage?
Once I’d taken the decision to remain separated from a wife who no longer wanted to live with me, it felt like a heavy emotional weight had been lifted from my chest, enabling me to breathe freely once more. Without realising it at the time, a significant change had occurred within my belief system. Whereas previously, my heart and mind would never have countenanced the propriety of ‘divorce’ under any set of circumstances, having it imposed on me, forced me to taste the undeniable benefits of its consequences. I found myself gradually changing my long-held belief ‘that divorce was always wrong’ for the couple concerned. I had now come to believe ‘that it was sometimes necessary!’
This significant change of belief I’d experienced, prevented me having the emotional breakdown I might otherwise have had if I’d tried to hopelessly reconcile the irreconcilable. The acceptance of my wife’s decision to seek a divorce, along with my acknowledgement of her personal right to obtain one, was to prove essential in clearing any mental blockage holding me back. My emotional conversion had enabled me to ‘move on’ with my life without feeling a future victim of past circumstances within it!
