I folded the news paper up as I heard the front door slam. With my eyebrows raised, a smile on my face, I waited for your answer.

Both faltered when you said that one word.

But the way you said it caused questioning. That was a horrible joke to tell, but you insisted you weren’t.

Was this your way of coping? Laughing off the inevitable? But why is this happening to you? At thirty four it was nearly unheard of, seemed so impossible for it to be true.

I ask you again, wanting an honest answer, still you reply with your same response, landing heavily on the chair next to mine.

I look at you, I really don’t know what to say, and for once I’m silenced.

I watch as you play with your long hair, I need to reach out, comfort you but for some reason you seem too delicate now.

You see my sadness leave my body, called me silly for being so miserable, laughed as my world fell apart.

Please tell me it’s a joke; please tell me you’re feeling a little morbid.

Still you insist, smile like everything’s okay, normal.

What do you want me to think? Do you want me to laugh with you? At your misfortune? You don’t seem to realise how much this is crippling me.

I turn to you again, asking how long. You shrugged your shoulders, handing me a piece of card, in a tatty state.

Were you nervous? Was that the reason the card that lay in my hand had been folded, disfigured?  

You can’t fool me, you never could.

I know you’re in denial and I’m going to be here when the tears come, when you need emotional release.

I read what was written on your appointment card, you’re next prior arrangement was in two days, more tests? I offer to go with you, more of a telling to be honest.

My face fell stern as you refused, I put my foot down this time, as a faithful other half, I was going with you, no if’s or buts’.

In those two days I think I lost my mind.

I can’t remember what we did; let alone what I ate for each meal. Time passed too rapidly.



Sat in the doctor’s office, long medical words leaked through one ear and out the other, what the hell was he talking about? Did you understand? I asked him to stop, translate into understandable English.

We were there for the results; you refused to let me hold your hand. Did you just not want to seem weak? Why are you shutting me out?

As the outcome was spoken, you never changed you present emotion, sat perfectly still.

The doctor tells you there is a treatment, but a less than ten percent chance it will change the prognosis.

Are you going to answer him? He’s given you a choice, please agree to try it.

The only sound that came was your ‘no’ and the abrupt fabric rustling from myself turning harshly in the chair.

Why are you doing this? Are you still finding it funny now? How could you be so selfish as to not even try?

I know why you said no, you had no hope in that small percentage, didn’t want to waste your time if it was unsuccessful.

I felt like snapping, losing the plot.

Thankfully for you all I could do was stare at you bewildered, my mouth open. My head fell into my waiting hands as you asked questions, but I wasn’t fully listening, it felt more like my diagnosis than yours.

It became too much, I apologised to the doctor before leaving; I’ll be waiting in the car.

I can’t think, I want to but my mind is an empty space.

I watch as couples walk by, hand in hand, some kissing, others pushing prams. That should be us, we should be having fun, doing what we want. But instead, here we are, the worst day of my life, I’m not sure anymore what it is to you.  

I stare as you walk towards the car, your hands full with leaflets. I know I’ll be reading them, cover to cover, I can guarantee you’ll put them to one side, more of your selfishness?

I understand this isn’t easy but please, don’t try and do this on your own.

You get into the car, still the same smile on your face; I’m get really tired of it now.

I don’t even bother to question you; I know what you’ll say. Driving home, I had the odd blind occasion, tears obstructing my view.

I hid it from you though, if you were so determined to make a joke out of yourself, then so be it, I’ll cry alone.

We passed a small market stall, you eyes lit up as you looked at the colourful balloons. Do you want a balloon? I’ll stop the car now and get you a balloon, I’ll get you five hundred of them, maybe throw in a get well soon one if it’ll make you any fucking happier.

I was tempted to stop, buy them all and throw them in your face, but then my guilt kicks in and I feel extremely bad for my thoughts.

I don’t look at you for the rest of the journey, I feel so angry deep inside. We should be going home, spending the day exchanging ‘I love you’s’ hugging and kissing.

That won’t happen though, we’ll go home and you’ll do the same thing you always do, smiling and laughing.

I hope you realise that if you don’t talk to me properly about this soon, I won’t be able to keep my cool.

Throwing the keys down on the coffee table, my thoughts were right as you switched your games console on, sat with a smile on your face as you searched through the mass of games you had collected.

Starting it up, I took a seat on the sofa, rubbing at my face. I’ve never felt so empty, part of me wants to fall into denial too but I’m too aware of what’s happening.

You take a seat on my lap, shuffling around to get comfortable, are you finally showing some vulnerability?

My arms find their rightful place around your chest, holding on protectively.

I wouldn’t wish this upon anybody else, but why does it have to be you?

I feel alone already.

You had been playing this game for hours, dropping the pad a few times from when you had sneakily fallen asleep. Now here I am, carrying on where you left off, I let you sleep this time, I knew you weren’t immune to feelings, you’re mentally drained.

You started to slip off my knees as you stirred, but I gently pull you back up. You felt so strong, so intact, how can you be fighting a horrible illness?

There are questions I still need answers to and I will, one way or another, get them out of you tonight.

Once we fully understand each other, we can finally move on.

Still you were fast asleep; your rough breaths hit my cheek, making it clammy. I sit you up and you try to lie back down but I stop you.

We need to talk and it has to be now.

Questions fly at you, still you laugh it off, tell me to forget about it. How rude can you be? Do you not care about anyone around you? You stand up, walking towards the stairs but I refuse to let you go.

I need answers, not my buttons pushed.

Still you try to leave, but there is at least one question I need an answer to. I ask you again, how long. I can see the defeat in your body language as your shoulders slumped, a sigh emitting before you turned towards me.

Finally I get my answer and I go cold, sorry written over your face as I hold onto the door frame.




It’s been a year and a half since you told me you had twelve months left.

You are like a ticking time bomb and it terrifies me everyday.

I had to take a motherly roll, it was hard, I had no idea how to look after you properly, but I followed my instincts and common sense.

You’ve been bed bound for eight of those months now and how the tables have turned.

You accepted your fate, allowed me to be there for you. But now I’m the selfish one.

You’ve begged me more than once to kill you, the pain too much. Said you’d rather take your own life than let the cancer do it.

And yet I had the audacity to look you in the eye and say no.

It was my selfishness to not lose you that prevented me from doing it; I didn’t want to be alone, reflect back and know I killed you.

So here you are, screaming everyday from the pain, and it’s my entire fault.

I don’t know where you get your strength from, for months you’ve been fighting to see another day, probably to punish me more.

You started off on strong pain killers, but you took so many daily that your body gradually got used to them, having no effect.

Now you’re taking morphine.

I hate to see you struggling, I know you feel degraded, but you needn’t worry about anything, you are still so handsome in my eyes.

Nurses come every morning to wash you, change your sheets and your dressings.

You’d got a nasty bed sore that is eating away at you, just on your lower back, getting closer to your bone.

Chances are it’ll never heal, ever.

I didn’t know about them, to me I just thought it was a normal sore mark, to start with, not even the nurses picked up on it. You have them on your hips too but they are in an early stage, turning you every two hours prevents them getting worse.

Maybe if I had granted you your wish, you wouldn’t be in this mess, I’m so sorry Joey.

I’ve never left your side in all these months, I’m terrified if I do, you’ll pass away and I won’t let you go on your own, not after I promised I’ll be with you.

It’s gotten to the point that I only lightly sleep in the chair beside you, my mom’s here everyday to cook for me, makes you protein drinks seeing as you haven’t eaten for week.

What is keeping you alive Joe?

You’ve always been a slight man, but now, now you’re skeletal. You were always so easy to lift up; nowadays I could do it with one arm.

Is this another way to reason your wanting me to kill you?

Neither have you spoken to me for a few months, are you really that ill?

I stroke your hair as your eyes scan the room rapidly; it worries me when you do that, its so chilling. I know you hate having this done, but I have to.

Taking the duvet away, I swallow the lump in my throat as you try feebly to pull it back.

Your small body begins to shake from the cold, small noises escape from your lips as I try to turn you, quickly and carefully.

I wish you would eat, even just a little, I’ve tried to feed you but you’re too weak to do so.

Taking the drink, I’ve been left no choice but to use a syringe.

I dip my fingers into your drink first to wet your lips, placing a towel under your chin, I slowly give you the tropical flavoured liquid, but it’s a waste of time, it either dribbles back out or you have a coughing fit.

What small bit of it makes it into your stomach produces a horrible rumbling noise, so loud I can feel it through the mattress.

I hate to say this Joe, but please, don’t hold on any longer.

I want you to be at rest now.

I remember the last argument we had, as petty as it sounds, I’m glad I won. You wanted to be cremated, so I could keep you with me, but there’s one little saying that I’m sticking by – You burn your trash and bury your treasure.

You’ll always be my treasure.



You made me promise to not keep any secrets between us; all our feelings should be laid on the table.

I stuck to that, well, to some degree.

I had to lie to you a few times. I couldn’t have that on your mind as well as your fear of dying.

I took you to all the places you wanted to go. You still believe that I had money saved up, hidden.

Reality is, I didn’t, and I’ve never saved a penny in all my life. Truth is, I remortgaged the house.

I filmed every outing, probably got days worth of play back to watch.

I did buy you a balloon in the end. They were selling them at Disney world, you choose one of Goofy, said it reminded you of me. Charmed!

I admired how child like you could be, the way you tied the ribbon around your wrist.

We went to so many places, did so many things. I wish we could do it all over again now.

I write down the amount of fluid intake you’ve had today so far. There isn’t a real reason to doing it, it’s for my own benefit. I’m so exhausted it’s easy for me in my mind state to forget simple things.

At least now I know how much you should be drinking. You did really well yesterday; you drank so much, but today, a measly twenty five millilitres.

I turn the TV on for you as I take a seat; your eyes are transfixed for a few minutes until you look at me. I don’t show you my fear; you needed me to be strong.

I smile at you as I run the back of my hand down your face.

I’ve lost track of the times doctors have been and gone, said you wouldn’t be with us by morning, weeks later you’re still here.

I’ve never stopped to think how life will be once you’ve gone; it really isn’t worth thinking upon.

I place my arms on the side of your bed, my back hurts, my head aches and I need sleep.

I try not to, but I can’t help thinking back to what you had said to me one day. I was watching you sleep, surprised when your eyes suddenly focused on me; you weren’t sleeping at all. You asked me plain as day why I don’t leave, get on with my life and find someone else.

How can I when I have you?

As long as you are still here and in my heart I’ll never leave.



I sat opening a card, I knew who it was from, despite the fact I asked her not to.

I’m getting old now Joe, I know if you could, you’d have many a snide remark to make.

There was a little message of support written in the middle, mom had signed it from you and herself.

You’ve made it all the way to December and if I’m going to be honest, you won’t see tomorrow morning.

I asked mom to come take a look at you last night, your breathing was peculiar, sounded like you were getting a cold.

What I didn’t expect her to say was that you had a death rattle.

I looked at her gone out, asked her to repeat her words, unsure if I had misheard.

I hadn’t the faintest idea what it meant; I had to know, even though I didn’t want to.

I understand now that in medical terms it’s a sign of near death, the noise caused by disproportionate respiratory secretions in your throat. Is that why you didn’t drink anything at all last night?

You’ve lost your ability to swallow?

I haven’t left your side at all today, no matter what the circumstance, I will be here.

Day fell to night and still you fought on, I don’t know why but if it’s because of me, then please find another reason.

I haven’t tried to give you a drink; I’m so frightened you’ll choke.

I find myself looking at the clock every ten minutes, I have no idea why, it isn’t like I have anything planned.

I let go of your hand to flick the light switch on, shutting the curtains while I’m at it.

Joey?

Your fingers are scratching at the bed sheets, a strange cloudy look in your eyes.

Without hesitation, I sit on the bed next to you, lifting you body securely in my arms.

I listen as your breathing becomes more erratic before it calms.

You have no reason to be scared, it’s just like going to sleep.

I watch as your eyes become heavy, struggling to keep them open.

I take your wrist, feeling only a slight pulse, I’m sorry I’m making it obvious, I just need to know.

Your breaths come to a slow stop and I’ve feared the worst.

Looking at you brings back all the happy memories, everything we’ve done.

Your eyes open again.

Come on Joe, please don’t fight this stage of it, I want you free from pain, please.

Still you put up a fight, you small hand grips so gently to my arm.

Minutes pass and still you keep your eyes open.  

I know you’re afraid, I know you don’t want to die, but there’s nothing I can do except for telling you it’ll be okay.

It was half past ten when you ended your pain, your eyes shut for the last time and your body finally at rest.

I hold you for a while longer, a sad smile on my face.



“I’m so very proud of you.”