Karin and I were a couple for over thirty years – we started
going out the first night we met. We have owned three houses, three children
and hundreds of cats. I was always into
cycling and running and Karin was always into books – over time our interests
blended, like a Venn diagram where the circles are moving together.
Oddly, Karin always claimed that after she left school she
convinced herself that she wasn’t sporty: bad mistake marrying me then. As she got older her physical vocabulary came
back, starting with karate in Canada then progressing to running on the road, followed
closely by my favourite hobby; off-road running. We also bought her a nice road bike that she
could use to go to work on as well as recreational rides. She was pretty strong; I have a very clear
memory of her riding in a duathlon and riding round grinning and laughing the
whole way to fourth place in the cycling section.
The last two years have seen us sharing the burden of
cancer. Karin was the one who had to endure tests and scans followed by chemo and
radio-therapy. She vomited, had
seizures, and lost the feeling in her legs. Her headaches lasted months, not
hours, and her hair was scorched off her scalp, but she very rarely complained. No, she planned holidays, parties, visits,
she identified what she wanted to make the little life she had left as pleasurable
as possible. She wrote and published a novel and filled countless books with ideas. She planned and had special
moments with our children to provide meaningful complete memories for them. She
insisted, insisted, that I buy a titanium bike (a real chore for me). People became
very important, to the point at which Karin’s strength was only in evidence
when friends or family were around – often when they left she just collapsed
into exhausted sleep.
What did I do? Cooking, cleaning, counting the medication
out, being company, working, writing this blog, staying in touch with people,
and latterly, organising everything. I
also went running – Karin told me to. She
said it was important I had some ‘me’ time and it would help me unravel my
head. And I was her partner. Not as a passive state but active, like two
people pressing their foreheads together. We sat and just existed. We went to the supermarket and actually
enjoyed it, we talked, drank prosecco together. We sat in bed until far too late in the morning
and drank tea made by the Teasmaid. She liked
toast in bed, one with marmalade and one with jam or occasionally marmite. I
loved it; I could care for her and we would connect deeply.
When I went running I always had to have my phone on me just
in case she had a problem. Now when I go
out I have to check my reflex and leave the phone at home – no-one will phone
me.
Karin’s energy ran out three weeks before she died. She knew how close she was to the end but
still spent her time making sure everyone was ok. She still sent me out running, although I was
scared to go for very long. I took my
running kit to the hospice but never felt confident enough to change and get
out, despite being very close to Blaise estate.
The staff in the hospice looked after
her while I tried to sit and understand the changes that had occurred in
us. They recognised the journey both of
us were on and provided the care and guidance we needed.
We all get pestered constantly for contributions to this or
that charity, but it is only when you need the support of one you really know
their value. I knew what hospices did
but I didn’t know what that felt like. I
had no idea that a nurse would see me sitting on my own and come and chat with
me for 30 minutes. I didn’t know that the care extends beyond the death of the
patient, or that relatives who live a long way away can access counselling
skills from other hospices; this means our children can still be supported even
when they are away at university.
Please consider making a donation to the St Peter’s Hospice. I want to give back the care we all received
during Karin’s time there so that someone else can have it. Everybody deserves a dignified death.
Click
on the link below to go to my fund raising page;
