Neil wanted to write the 100th post. I didn’t think he could do it as he can hardly speak and is in and out of consciousness, but as usual he proved me wrong, demanded that I get a pen and paper, and dictated the following. – Louise
This is the 100th post to grace the pages of The Plattitude. I feel that, to be a wonderful milestone and testament to how far we have travelled.
It must have been all that talk about pub closing time because today has been a very, very difficult day for me. My swallow is limited to liquids only and my speech has declined overnight, so much so that I would have been misunderstood trying to buy a doner kebab on the way home from the heaviest night known to Chuck Norris.
The 100th post is also surprising as we never expected to be in a position to write one.
Due to today’s medical intervention and subsequent conversations with my loved ones, it’s my intention to go back to Saint Michael’s Hospice for that third and final visit. This is based on the fact that the criteria set out by myself and as discussed in my previous post are now fully satisfied, and the decision to activate them is mine, and mine only.
It’s a difficult, bordering on impossible, decision for me to make as I have to decide whether to ease the suffering or hang on for the purely selfish notion of seeing them for a few extra days or minutes. The reason I have chosen to go to the hospice tomorrow is to draw the curtains over what has been a devastating, degrading year and a half.
That same year and a half has built strong bonds between our families and friends which will never be broken. You may have noticed that some of the jovial nature of my usual entries is or has been somewhat lacking over the last day or two. Please don’t think that this is because I can’t, it is merely to help Louise carry on the baton without too much pressure to be as witty. I accept comedy as being one of my natural gifts, just don’t expect the same from Louise, my beloved widspouse / spidow (I’m not dead yet).
I do hope, infact I know, that you have been enjoying our blog to its utmost, and the people you have met/emailed/phoned through it have been able to make you feel less isolated, in particular fellow sufferers.
Neil was interrupted here to have his meds in the syringe driver changed. True to form, he’s asking how it works. Jill has been videoing him dictating this blog and we’ve run out of tapes. He’s sent her out to get more.
The thing about the blog is that it seems to have made many people, previously untouched and unaware of the disease, take stock of their own lives in order to grasp every opportunity that lands in their lap (if there is an opportunity that lands in someone else’s lap then go see if they’ll do you a swap). Just don’t miss any.
Neil, at this point, told me that by the time I get round to typing it up, he’ll have thought of what else he wants to say. He’s since then had another very exhausting choking episode and is at the moment resting… hopefully through the night.
Till tomorrow x
Neil died at St. Michaels hospice, in the company of loved ones, at 11am on the 25th of February 2009.