Sunday Bloody Sunday

Sunday......Mmmmm, the day did not start well. Infact I cannot remember for a long time any day starting that fantastic. Since I returned from the Falkland Islands after Kayla was diagnosed with the cancer recurrence, most days start the same, pretty poorly.

I normally wake up still tired (well one notch up from the exhausted state I went to bed!) and a little confused and bewildered after being torn from the same recurring dream/nightmare where I am searching for a huge bunch of lost keys whilst being chased by a giant blue,slimey, knobbly, ugly goldfish?? (any dream therapists out there "fill yer boots") Kayla normally wakes up tired, still groggy from all the drugs and nauseous.

Today was different, we were both still tired and Kayla had all the other "normal" troubles. However, oh yes a bigger and more apparent trouble lay on the horizon, Kayla was quiet! Anybody who knows Kayla will know that she is not quiet, one thing she is not is quiet, she is not a quiet person. Don't get me wrong here, I don't mean she is a chatterbox or is part woman part megaphone and I don't mean she likes to play the big bass drum over tea and toast. She just has a presence, she is there, in a room you notice her, she kind of stands out. Today was different, she was quiet, she was in stealth mode, something was up. My problem was going to be how to identify and rectify her problem.

I have found during my time as the "prime carer" that the line "Oi what's up with your face? It looks like a bulldog licking piss of a thistle!" does not reap the reaction that a "prime carer" is normally looking for when tending to the infirm. A cunning approach was what was needed here.

Silliness aside, as a carer I feel that the best possible way to be a carer is to care in such a way that the person you are looking after does not realise that you are caring for them. A kind of transparent methodology of caring that gets the job done but without any drama, just business as normal in a normal household. The last thing they need (in my own humble opinion) is to feel that they are so weak and feeble that someone has to do everything for them. (Damn if she reads this my secret is out! Doh!)

This said I sprung out of bed with the grace and poise of asthmatic tortoise and started my morning ritual or trying to get Kayla to enthuse about breakfast! I offered "Badgers nipples in aspic", Hummingbird egg ommlette, paw-paw and lotus blossom souffle.........nothing, not even the finger that makes it's way from under the douvet. Things were dire, last night the pain (every night without fail, nocturnal acute pelvic agony) had been brutal, 3am until about 6:30am, two hot baths, gallons of Oramorph and other pain killers barley scratched the surface. The thing that puts Kayla to sleep is exhaustion and mental grit.

I retreated and decided to concoct my signature dish........a weak coffee and some malted milk biscuits!! In addition, once her gastronomic juices were flowing I would ambush her with some slices of fresh mango. See being a carer is all about cunning!

On my return to the bedroom I was greeted with one of my all time horrible things, my Achilles heel, shoulder, armpit and spleen all rolled into one. No not snakes, not creepy-crawlies, not West Life or or even the X-factor. Something much more painful and troubling to me.....Kayla was crying. Not "I'm a little pissed off today" kind of PMT style crying. No, this was huge pitiful body wracking sobs, heart wrenching noises of absolute desolation and fear. She looked about ten years old all terrified and huddled on the bed, with her arms wrapped around herself. With every anguished noise that came from her my heart was torn into a thousand shreds. She looked up at me and appologised for being weak!!!!! OMG!

It dawned on me, that since my return I had not seen her cry once. In front of our children she is a rock and they had only just gone back to Boarding School. What with the anxiety of a rapidly growing tumour, starting with a new Onc team at a new and unfamiliar Hospital and the specter of "what if it doesn't work" hanging over her 24/7, no wonder the pressure had got to her. The problem was suddenly apparent, you did not need the brains of an Arch Bishop to work this one out. I took her in my arms and let her cry. I did not ask her why or what, being there and holding her was what she needed at that time.

As they say up North..... "A right good cry does you good!" ..........what a load of old arse!

Being supported by someone who loves or cares for you when you are terrified, emotionally devastated and at your wit's end does you good! Having the courage to let all that emotion break free and rid yourself of it, also does you good. In addition a cuddle and a couple of diazipam afterwards whilst talking through the fears, worries and anxieties also works bloody wonders!

As painful as it was for me too see Kayla like that (am I selfish?) I feel she needed to release the pressure and she has benefited from it and boy do I respect that woman for doing it.

Our family and in particular myself, her Mum and Sister, all carers in our own way, are also under immense pressure, how should we deal with it? I cannot comment for anyone but myself. I respect anyone (especially a man), who has the courage to cry and expose their emotions. Maybe not to the extent of Michael Barrymore on Big Brother though. However, for some reason crying is not for me.

I myself have been using the "British Nuclear Fuels Limited" technique of managing my own anxiety, worries and pressure.

The BNFL method is quite simple....... I discuss them with Kayla and once out in the open I seal the emotions in an impervious substance dig a huge deep hole inside myself and deposit the nasties in there for ever. Its worked in the Lake District for years without any major problems......... Except the odd one eyed self cooking sheep or twelve.

Bottom line is, everyone on this journey has his or her own troubles and baggage to carry and everyone deals with it in their own particular way. One thing that has eased both Kayla's and my own pressure is communication. We have never had such open lines of communication and have never been so brutally honest with each other. So out of this horrible cancer journey that we are on many positive things can and do come out of it.

I will explain in later episodes of how our relationship has become stronger during our travels down the "Long Hard Road.