Discussion Board Forums Grief Management I’m lost…

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    Dear Deb,

    I am so glad that we were able to help even just a little bit for you. Please keep coming back here as we will all continue to support and help you as much as we can.

    I know what you mean about the “what if” thinking. I did that a bit too with my dad after he passed away. After my dads diagnosis, he had the choice of either chemo or PDT as his treatment and he chose PDT as he wanted the best quality of life for the time that he had left with us all. But after he passed, I sort of thought for a short time what would have happened if he’d done nthe chemo instead of the PDT.

    But I’m with Lainy here in that the dwelling on the what if’s doesn’t do us any good. I know that it can be hard not to sometimes, but please don’t focus on this type of thinking. I’m sure that we all wish that we could go back and change things sometimes, but would that change what happens anyway.

    We are all here for you.





    I know you and your family are going through a devastating time right now. Please know that others feel your pain and will support you through this. Your husband is free of his pain and is at peace now so may you find comfort in that. Many hugs coming your way for you and your children, PeggyP


    Deb, me heart breaks for you and your children. I am so sorry for your loss and the pain you are experiencing. I will pray for your family. Hugs


    Dear Deb,

    It is with great sadness that I read your posts. Although my husband was 62 when he passed away from this disease, our stories are much the same. He also went quickly. Less than two months after his first symptoms.

    I also felt much as you, but have come to realize that there is no right or wrong here. There is nothing you could have or should have done differently. It is what it is. It’s not fair, but this disease does not play fair.

    I found this site shortly after my husand passed away and the people here are what have gotten me through the past 3 1/2 years.

    With time you will come to find that you are stronger than you think. I was once told that you never know how strong you are until being strong is the only choice you have. I have found that to be true.

    I still miss Jim, I still love him and wish we had been able to share more time together, but that was not to be and I am doing my best to keep on going taking small steps forward and living life one day at a time.

    Your husband will always be with you in your heart and memories. My thoughts are with you and your family during this most sad and difficult time.

    Come back here often. There is always someone here willing to listen and to help when you need it most and we all truelycare and understand.

    Take care of yourself and your family now.

    Love & Hugs,


    Dear Deb,

    It breaks my heart that you have lost your husband at a young age and your dear children have lost their father. I am sorry the disease progressed so quickly. I will pray for God to give you and your children the strength to carry on and live your lives to the fullest. I hope your sadness and pain turns to fond memories of your dear husband.

    Love, -Pam


    Deb, we have learned that it does no good to dwell on that which cannot be changed. Would have, could have, should have are not in our dictionaries. CC is very rare, when it’s diagnosed many times it is too late…it is impossible to fight these facts. We do know that our loved ones are in a more Peaceful place and some day we will be together again.I made up a Mantra for myself and it seems to help me when I feel down. Teddy and I were married 17 years, second marriage. So I say,”shame on me, I had for 17 years what most people never have in a lifetime”. That seems to snap me out of it for awhile. Also I feel Teddy all around me and have logged 50 happenings in the last year that let me know he is here. He used to come to me through music a lot, but that has stopped. Now he lets me know in other ways. By believing he is here it gives me security and Peace. Some may not believe but we do have our own little club here that does as they have had proof from their loved ones as well. You need to give yourself a lot more time but we are here for you!


    Lainy, PCL1029, Julia, Margaret, Gavin and CL, thank you from the bottom of my heart for your beautiful messages of friendship and support. They made me feel better… a bit lighter.

    I feel cheated. I feel my wonderful husband got a raw deal. I know nobody gave him cancer but I can’t help thinking ‘what if?’ about so many things. Should they have given him a dose of chemotherapy soon after diagnosis when he was still very strong and very healthy? Would that have given him a step up on the ladder to more time with us? Should they have operated even though the cancer had spread? Should they…. etc etc.

    It’s a monster of a disease… an evil horror.

    Thank you again guys. I truly appreciate the support.

    Deb x


    I am so very sorry for your loss. I can feel the heaviness of grief in your post and I wish you didn’t have the physical pain of carrying this with you.

    I am a young widow too- I get a lot of support from the merrywidow website.

    Please have a look for the CS Lewis book, A Grief Observed- it helped me in the early days. Winston’s Wish is the leading childhood bereavement charity in UK, (I know you are ROI)- you will find support there when you are ready.

    For now all you can do is survive- my goodness that is very difficult.

    Thinking of your family and especially you tonight,



    Dear Deb,

    I am so very sorry about the loss of your husband. I know that words won’t help right now, but I do know that you are around people here who have gone through what you have and can so relate to what you feel right now. So please, continue to reach out to us all and we will be here for you.

    I wish that I could help you more, please know that I am thinking of you and your family.




    Deb: I lost my husband just over 4 months ago and I know exactly where you are coming from. It’s hard to say the least. Your husband passed so quickly that I know it has to be hard for you. My husband was diagnosed at age 61 and passed at age 64. No matter what, a short time from diagnosis or a long time, it’s just plain hard.

    You will carry on, for your children as they need you more now than anything.

    Keep your husband alive in your heart and mind. He is now your angel in heaven watching over all of you.



    Dear Deb

    Your message touched me very deeply; I am so sorry for your loss. I well remember the shock of hearing my sister’s cc diagnosis. Your description of the resulting numbness is something I remember very well and I still get those episodes, like I’m hearing things from underwater.

    Lainy’s comment about the “new normal” applies to me, too. I remember how comforted I felt when I first found this site and realised I was not alone. My new cc family has been a tower of strength and a great source of comfort and support. Please stay with us and let us do what we can to support you, too.

    My very best to you and your children.

    Hugs from London



    I sincerely feel your pain,your suffering and truly understand what you are going through.

    I lost my sister-in-law 2days ago at hospice care;she had just admitted 4days ago. Like you,my wife and our family were lucky enough to communicate with her before she totally unresponsive.
    My wife right now is still in the denying stage;the two sisters were very closed;
    and that affected our entire family emotionally a lot.But let me quote our moderator Lainy the poem she wrote to comfort me and i hope you will find peace and comfort to calm your heart; the strength and purpose to go on with life ; and the courage to carry on your husband’s dream to care for his children especially his princess that he cared.

    “Those we love must someday pass beyond our present sight…
    They leave us and the world we know without their radiant light.
    But we know that like a candle their lovely light will shine
    To brighten up another place more perfect…more divine.
    And in the realm of Heaven where they shine so warm and bright,
    Our loved ones live forevermore in God’s eternal light.”

    God bless.


    Dearest Deb, words cannot express how terribly sorry I am about your Husband. Everything happened so quickly I am sure you have not caught your breath. You are still in shock along with a mountain of grief, but I promise you down the road aways it will lighten up and your Happy Memories will take over and the grief will turn to an ache in your heart but things will get better. You and your children will rely on each other and you will survive as that is what your husband would have wanted. I call it, living my new normal. You never know how strong you are until “strong” is the only choice you have!

    From a book of blessings called “Benedictus” by John O’Donohue – Irish Poet & Philosopher

    When you lose someone you love,
    Your life becomes strange,
    The ground beneath you becomes fragile,
    Your thoughts make your eyes unsure;
    And some dead echo drags your voice down
    Where words have no confidence
    Your heart has grown heavy with loss.
    And though this loss has wounded others too,
    No one knows what has been taken from you
    When the silence of absence deepens.
    There are days when you wake up happy;
    Again inside the fullness of life,
    Until the moment breaks
    And you are thrown back
    Onto the black tide of loss.
    Days when you have your heart back,
    You are able to function well
    Until in the middle of work or encounter,
    Suddenly with no warning,
    You are ambushed by grief.
    More than you, it knows its way
    And will find the right time
    To pull and pull the rope of grief
    Until that coiled hill of tears
    Has reduced to its last drop.
    Gradually, you will learn acquaintance
    With the invisible form of your departed;
    And when the work of grief is done,
    The wound of loss will heal
    And you will have learned
    And be able to enter the hearth
    In your soul where your loved one
    Has awaited your return
    All the time.


    I’m not sure why I’m posting or if there’s any point now but I need to reach out to people who understand. I am so lonely and angry right now.

    On 15th December 2011 my lovely husband was diagnosed with liver cancer. He had been feeling nauseous and tired for a few weeks and the doctors thought he had gallstones but a biopsy showed liver cancer or so we were told. Our world fell apart.

    He was so positive and determined to fight it every step of the way. We met with the oncologist for the first time on December 21st. The oncologist said that the cancer had spread to the lining of the bowel so surgery was not an option. This was devastating. He said the only treatment would be chemotherapy beginning in the middle of January. His prognosis was 1-2 years. We were told that, other than chemotherapy and its side effects, he would lead a relatively normal life for the coming months and then start to decline.

    We have three children – two sons who are 17 and 15 and a daughter, 7 at the time (she turned 8 last week). We told our sons everything but we told our little girl that Dad was still sick and that the doctors were trying to help.

    We left with me feeling lost and confused but my husband was determined to fight. Just two days later he couldn’t get out of bed and he was vomiting all the time. Christmas Eve and Christmas Day he tried to hard, God bless him, to be with us but after just 2 hours out of bed he had to go back. I texted the oncologist and told him how bad things were. His medication was adjusted.

    By 29th December I brought him to the hospital as he was very jaundiced and in a lot of pain. We met the oncologist who diagnosed a blocked bile duct. We still thought at this point that he had gallstones as well as cancer so we thought the blockage was caused by the gallstones. At no point was bile duct cancer mentioned yet. The doctor said he would simply need a stent put in and the fluid drained.

    Days went by. Finally on January 5th a radiologist and doctor sat us down and said that it was more serious than they thought. They couldn’t put in the stent because the tumour had grown so much it was blocking the bile duct completely. This is when bile duct cancer was first mentioned. Up to now he was treated for liver cancer. Even when bile duct cancer was now mentioned, I didn’t, at the time, realise how much more serious it was than liver cancer. I thought they were much of a muchness. The radiologist said he would try to put in a tiny tube in the side of the liver to relieve the build up of bile. This was a success, much to our delight.

    A few days later we were told that he was back on track for chemotherapy but that night he developed an infection at the site of the tube. The next day the hospice team came to his bedside and suggested that he go there the following day. We were shocked and horrified. I thought it was crazy for him to go to a hospice because I still thought he’d be home soon.

    The next morning a team of doctors spoke to me. They said that he was declining rapidly. They were shocked themselves. I asked if the initial prognosis was now changed and they said yes, he had just a few weeks to live. All I remember now of that day is crying and blindness. It was like I could hear voices but my tears and shock made them seem far away and all I could see was darkness.

    He was transferred to the hospice that afternoon, believing that it was just for respite (he was too drowsy for the doctor to explain how serious it was). I cried in the ambulance and he caught my hand and said “hey love, why are you crying? I’ll be home in a few days.” I felt so alone.

    Two days later, the doctor and counsellor sat us down to explain to my children exactly what was happening. The boys were completely up to date with everything but our little 7 year old didn’t realise what was happening at all. We talked and they explained in a kind, loving way that they had tried everything and nothing had worked. My precious girl was getting very scared and then I had to say “daddy’s going to heaven”. Everyone cried their hearts out. It was the saddest day of my life, watching my children’s hearts break. After this meeting my little girl ran down to her Dad’s room, hugged him and cried. Her daddy said “hey, what’s wrong princess?” She just cried and cried. At the point I think reality dawned on Diarmuid, that perhaps the end could be closer than he thought but he still had hope, lots of it. Why wouldn’t he, when just 4 weeks before he was given a prognosis of 1-2 years.

    After just five days in the hospice, the most beautiful, loving facility on earth, he fell asleep and we knew he wouldn’t wake again, not fully. The next day, Tuesday 17th, he passed away holding our sons’ hands, with me running down the corridor from the day room and getting there just in time to say goodbye and kiss him.

    He was 47. Diagnosis of cancer to his passing away was just 33 days.

    We stayed with him day and night for those 6 days in the hospice. It was a privilege and a blessing.

    Now 2 months on, I’m sitting here bereft. I miss him so much I find it hard to breathe. He was everything to the children and everything to me. He brought them to school and collected them every single day. He was there for all their music lessons. He brought our daughter to drama, swimming, the playground etc. He did everything with them.

    I don’t know how we’re going to carry on.

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