Death, Love, and Doing My Best

The revelation I needed to have.

TW: themes of death, mental health issues, suicide

In the early hours of this morning my partner Danny’s cousin died. He had been living with cancer in his throat and mouth. We got the phone call yesterday arvo that he was in hospital and probably wasn’t coming out.

I had only known Mark while he was unwell but he was the type of guy who laughed in the face of his illness, enjoying a smoke and a drink ‘til the end. At family gatherings he and Danny would sneak off for a cigarette and a chat, thick as thieves. So, yesterday we spent the rest of the day in a kind of limbo, waiting for any news. Mark had said he didn’t want any visitors, so Danny chose to respect that, and instead we sat in the courtyard and he shared memories with me.

I’ve never really seen Danny so sad. It’s awful to see the one you love feel so low and not be able to do much to help them beyond asking to hear stories and giving them hugs. As the night wore on and I got some stuff done in the house, Danny stayed sitting outside, teary eyed and feeling sh*t before going to bed really early so the day could be over.

I’m scared to say it out loud as this is definitely not about me, but Mark’s death, and Danny’s reaction to it, has given me a realisation. I never want Danny to feel so sad. And I definitely don’t want to be the one who breaks his heart. So, I have to get well. Full stop.

I’ve often joked to Danny that if I die I’ll come back to haunt him. But there have also been times, especially recently, when I haven’t been joking and I’ve told him I’m ready to go. I’m sick of being sick honestly. It’s both exhausting and boring. During my last hospital visit I broke down to my doctor, telling him, “if I’m dying, why not just do it now?” I was feeling overwhelmed, with so many appointments and so many doctors giving me homework. Tests, scans, needles, biopsies, bronchoscopies, diabetes, dentists, dieticians, *take a breath*, the advanced lung team, oncology, kidney doctors, dermatologists, plastic surgeons, this new medication, that new routine… it felt endless. I mentioned in my previous post my mental health had been suffering and this is why.

I ended up asking to be discharged from that admission. I had hit my limit and my doctors agreed, knowing that I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think it was necessary. Then we had a phone call a few days later and another doctor said something, which Danny had been saying to me, but it took an outsider saying for it to sink in. “Don’t be premature about dying. We’re all dying, and you never know when. You could get through this and plateau and be fine for ages.” Then we agreed to double my dose of antidepressants, and I can truthfully say, that has helped me SO much.

I’m no longer thinking about my demise. Instead I’m focused on getting through the next couple of months. My wisdom teeth come out in two days, then it’s onto radiation. And Mark has left me with vital insight, and the kick up the bum I needed to change my mindset.