Friday the 19th was a full on work day for me. Dylan was being cared for after school by Mike's Mum, otherwise known as Nana Marj. Evan was sleeping and playing alongside me in the office.I was tying up all the loose ends on the Spirit of 86 DVD, the Gathering DVD, a database mail out and the latest ep release from Counter Attack.
There is hardly a moment to draw breath and I have taken to writing everything down in lists on the back of an MPO envelope (Thanks Lulu for the helpful tip!)
I am missing Mike but as time elapses it’s uncanny how one’s memory plays tricks and you remember your loved one less and less. Real life takes over and it becomes more and more difficult to visualize our nearest and dearest. I have forgotten what Mike looks like and feels like. I am so firmly entrenched in my new single life that I cannot imagine Mike re-entering. It’s the closest thing to experiencing death in a way.
You have to remember that I have visualized losing Mike in very real terms fairly recently. I’m sure it messes with your head to face losing your loved one at an early age. I’ve faced this twice in the last 10 years in very real graphic terms and I’m certain it has made me more vulnerable and yet realistic in many ways. I have observed and experienced emotions that should only truly be revealed much later in life. I don’t mean to sound emotionally self indulgent. Far from it – I am just trying to explain how my life has been forever changed by cancer.
The first time I watched Mike being treated at Bangor Hospital (Ysbyty Gwynedd) by leukapherisis to try and reduce his white blood count from a terrifying half a million to a less life threatening and normal range (A normal red blood count varies slightly between laboratories but is generally between 4,300 and 10,800 cells per cubic millimeter) in December 2005, I felt like my heart was being ripped out and pummelled into a million pieces. Mike fainted at one point as he was lying in bed and in my naivety I actually thought he was dead! I felt like my life was over. Complete blackness. I had Dylan, all I ever wanted but I faced losing Mike, all I ever wanted.
After this treatment and Mike was stronger but still very poorly with a high white blood count, we took a trip to London for a second opinion. We were sinking under all the medical jargon and didn’t know which way to turn. I remember, crying silent tears all the way back to Wales after we were told that we should ignore our local hospitals and go for immediate transplant (We chose to follow our North Wales doctors’ advice).
I look back on those times and still feel afraid by the memories. The fear of those times and the fear that still resides within me is what makes me want to allay myself with Love Hope Strength, despite missing Mike more than words can say. In my time of sorrow, I just wanted one glimmer of love hope strength to sustain me. If Mike can do this for others through his actions then it will all be worth it.