The End

 P died in a hospice yesterday. I am devastated and inconsolable. I miss him horribly already. He was so ill towards the end - really since mid August. He was painfully thin except for a hugely swollen abdomen where the liver was enlarged with all the tumours. I had to lift him and he was so grateful at me caring for him, but I know it must have been hard for him to allow himself to be helped in that way. The toxins were affecting his brain so he became muddled and confused. And he was exhausted - he stopped having an interest in anything and he said of himself how unlike him that was. 

He spent the last 2 days in the hospice - with me there throughout. We were advised to go in and he agreed. They were able to dispense stronger drugs and directly - he was having problems swallowing. He’d mostly stopped talking anyway in the last couple of weeks - too tired and his mouth and throat were too dry. But he stopped responding to what was said to him on Monday afternoon/evening. Monday night I sat next to him and stroked his hair and face and talked to him until 3.30am. I called staff to give him more morphine as I think he felt some pain, because he was  occasionally moaning a bit. 

He moved so his head was right by where I was so I hope that means he heard me and knew I was there. I slept right next to him and held his arm. Then from 7am was chatting to him again and stroking his head. Had he been conscious he would have definitely batted me away! He died at midday. I stayed with him until 4.30pm but it was very hard leaving him and I wish I’d stayed longer. Right now, I wish he was back, even ill, but I know that’s selfish - he had said a couple of times that he wanted to go now. I loved him so much and we were together 26 years - I was with him longer than I’d lived without him. The thought of as many or more years ahead without him seems very bleak.