Obituary

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Torch News

There's lots of admin to be done, which I've been getting on with rather slowly. On Friday I phoned the Olympic Torchbearer line to tell them that Helen will be unavailable. The person I spoke to seemed not to know what to do, so I left it with them expecting to receive an email in due course confirming the cancellation. So far as I was concerned they could cancel the Olympics too.

I just got a call from a charming lady bearing condolences and asking me if I would take Helen's place. I am delighted. Crying too, but this is very right. The Olympics are back on.

Ninon de Lenclos

La vieillesse est l’enfer des femmes

Helen will never be old.

Goodbye

H died peacefully shortly after 7am this morning.  She just stopped breathing.  She was beautiful, lying at rest with her colour fading.

The hardest part so far was when the funeral people took her away.  No longer my Helen, now just Helen's body.

Let me whisper my last goodbyes

H hasn't woken since yesterday afternoon.  She has no response to touch or voice, other than to open her eyes very slightly when turned.

Weaker

H is barely moving now.  Her breathing, with the aid of oxygen, is easy enough, but she can't hold a beaker to drink from it.  She can nod when I offer her something she wants.

On Saturday H agreed to increase her dose of both diamorphine and midazolam.  We've increased the diamorphine again today because she was in some pain again.

I've told all the children that it will be only a few days.  They are all getting on with their lives.

Painless

This never would have made sense to me before, but it's a comforting thought that I could split some of H's drug supply with her and lie down with her forever.

Don't worry, I'm certain I'm not going to do it.