My darling husband died 17 days ago. I cannot believe how awful life is now. His death was not unexpected, he was very frail and had vascular dementia and Alzheimers. I obviously knew that he was dying and I am glad that he didn’t suffer, thanks to the wonderful district nurses and his GPs who appeared quickly every time I called, but after 35 years together I am now falling to pieces. Even six days before he died, when he wasn’t eating or drinking, he would still smile at me and tell me he loved me. Until the last day if I occasionally let go of his hand to go to the bathroom or kitchen, he was reaching out for me. I realise that I was very lucky as he was usually content and happy and never, ever violent or aggressive towards me. Last June after falling he ended up in our local A &E and then onto a ward. The care in there was …. Well it couldn’t remotely be described as care. In the space of five days he deteriorated so quickly, becoming completely paranoid and very frightened and they were not keeping him safe. The staff were not helping him at all. Despite the condescending young doctor telling me that he would only go downhill I managed to get him home. Within a few days he was so much better and he only started really struggling at the beginning of this year. Even then he was happy, even when bedbound. We had told his GP last year that he wanted to end his life at home and he did, in his own bed, holding my hand. I just wish that I could have gone with him.
The pain is unbearable. I just keep crying.
