As I entered my 60s, I was aware of the need to be fit and healthy, especially given my chronic lung condition. As well as the physical needs, there were the emotional and mental health needs. When Eamonn and I were both working, I didn't feel the need for a circle of friends. After we retired, with most of our time spent together at home, or aboard the boat, both here and in France, I began to reconsider the need for a network outside the family. We were co-dependent. Both of us had inherited a tendency for solitude and the danger of social isolation grew as the years passed.
I made an effort to find some activities that took me out of the house. I joined an acapella group, co-founded a knitting group and amateur writer's group, and, most importantly, joined the Nuffield Heath Centre gym to keep myself in good shape.
By 2012, I was at my leanest and fittest, my lungs were in good shape, and I had a healthy social life. Then, in December 2012, Eamonn was diagnosed with esophageal cancer. The need to keep him safe from infection during treatment led to the ditching of the singing group. After the first year, when all active treatment had ceased and he was in remission, I started attending my groups again. I even added tai Chi to my regime of swimming and core exercises. The second diagnosis of prostate cancer came as a harsh blow to me, mentally.
The first two years of treatment for the prostate did little to stop Eamonn's progress. Then the treatment began to fail. The change to a more invasive pill regime made him fatigued and, gradually, more and more breathless. After a year, that treatment, too, had failed. Radium treatment was suggested. This made him worse. During these four years, life began to deteriorate for us both. We spent more time at doctor's appointments, having tests and scans. My own health suffered. I entered a cycle of depression - declining immune system - lung infection. By the time we entered Eamonn's final months, there was a serious bacterial colony on my left lung, with only one oral antibiotic left that was effective. I had ceased to attend my groups and rarely left the house without Eamonn, except for walking the dog alone, which I found painful. Carer's burnout. That's what it was.
And it didn't stop after he died.
My GP told me that I came within a whisker of being admitted into hospital thanks to the bacterial infection that wouldn't go away. After three doses of the relevant antibiotic, I was still running a fever and feeling exhausted. The day before Eamonn went into the hospice, I had a day's worth of tests and examinations at the hospital. Apparently, the bacteria had gone, but my immune system was low and I was at risk of having a recurrence.
After Eamonn died, I was not fit and was overweight through lack of proper exercise and care. The cycle of depression-feeling ill-decline was still there. Emotionally and mentally, I still needed support. I was desperate to get back to my social groups, friends, and family. Then the Pandemic struck and things were put on hold.
Who I turn to remains a problem. The pandemic has made it impossible to renew my social contacts. I do have a few faithful friends and family who are doing their best. But I am totally alone in my grief.
I bought a book of poems last night, It is called Living without the one you cannot live without: Hope and Healing after Loss by Natasha Josefowitz. This nonegenarian speaks to me in a similar way that Eamonn did. Finding her is something I have been searching for during this past year. I think that her works and videos will support me in my way forward.
My thanks to The Good Grief Trust for signposting her.
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