Mad4Mel

I went to see the doctor a week last Tuesday. I’ve had a rough few weeks and after a weekend spent in hospital with Becky, I needed a break. I wasn’t depressed, I was grief-stricken. Of course, on my work sick certificate, the doctor can’t put grief as a reason for my time off, it has to be labelled stress. If only it were that simple. I’ve felt lower these past few weeks than I have in a long time. I think completing the cycle rides and having the book published drained me emotionally, far more than I ever imagined. They had kept me going. In some of the darkest times there was always the need to carry on, to train for the rides, to finish the next chapter. With the completion of the Lymphoma Association ride that all finished and suddenly, it seemed there was nothing.

Also, there was an overwhelming feeling that nothing had changed. I’d cycled all those miles, written all those words, but nothing had changed. Mel was still not with me and nothing I had done had made the slightest bit of difference. I struggled with the fact that Becky was coming home. Again, there would just be the three of us, three is an odd number and I feel the odd one out. Julie and Becky are working together during the day and have so much to talk about. I feel lonely. I know it may sound selfish, but it’s how I feel and sometimes that can’t be helped. People keep saying to “remember I have another daughter” which I find insensitive. I feel a sense of guilt and responsibility that Becky has lost her sister. Sounds silly doesn’t it? I can’t help it. My mind plays crazy tricks on me at times and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.

Last Friday I was sat in hospital with Becky. I knew she’d be ok, she was in the right place, the doctors had spotted whatever it was and she would be fine. I sat at her bedside and all I could think was why the hell didn’t we get Mel to hospital sooner? How crap was I not to have noticed that something was extraordinarily wrong? What if we could turn the clock back two years and could have Mel seen by a consultant. Why was I so blind? So stupid? I walked miles. I talked to myself, talked to Mel and tried to break away from the way I was feeling. I remember talking to Mel when she was alive about styles of football management and how some players need an arm round the shoulder, whilst other’s need a kick up the arse. I need the arm. The kick up the arse sends me further and further away. I have never believed in suicide, but I can understand how people get there. There are times this week when the river has looked inviting and the sleeping tablets like smarties, but maybe because Mel never had a choice and I have, then I carry on, however hard it may be … or maybe I’m just a coward and haven’t the courage. Of course, people will say I should think of others, but as I’ve found out, life goes on, people carry on and nothing really changes. Mel dying hasn’t changed the world, people still fight and argue over the most stupid of things and people move on. They always will. There are times when I think that if I knew 100% if I took my own life I’d be reunited with Mel then I’d do it. Selfish? Probably, but then losing Mel has made me selfish. Another comment I hear is “Oh well, at least you’ve still got Becky”. . . Becky is not compensation. She's not a consolation prize. I had two daughters. I still want two daughters. Why should I be grateful that I’ve got one left? I had two children and I still want two.

I know doctors/experts would say that I am depressed. I’m suffering from grief. I need to find purpose once more. A few days ago I received two letters in the post. One, a home made card, from the Lymphoma Association thanking me for all I’d done in the past year and how they appreciated it. Secondly, a letter from my MP regarding the changing of the rules regarding financial support for students with long term illnesses. It said how they were continuing to fight for a change and a meeting would be set up with the new Minister. Glimmers of light and something to fight for.

I want to start cycling again and the support I’ve received from my L2P cycling buddies (you know who you are) has been appreciated more than I can say and long may it continue. The good news for them is that I’ve actually reached the 15 stone target weight for the parachute jump, but it’s not a form of diet I’d recommend. My appetite is shot to pieces at the moment and I just don't feel hungry at all. I live on cheese and crackers. On Tuesday and Thursday of this week I visited Aston University, it was graduation day for a lot of Mel's friends and I wanted to be there to support them. I knew that spiritually, if there was one place Mel was going to be this week, it would be Aston. She wouldn't have necessarily been graduating herself, but she would definitely have been there supporting her friends. I was made to feel really welcome and it gave me a real boost.

On Thursday I visited Dr. T, the GP who was closest to Mel during her illness. My ten minute appointment slot last forty minutes. A proper doctor who was prepared to sit and listen to all that was worrying me. The result is that I have some tablets to hopefully give me and my appetite a boost. A full on blood test which I expect to come back normal, but which was done as a precautionary measure just in case the loss of appetite is due to another issue and a scan too which is in relation to something else that was worrying me.

I have to go back to see the doctor in ten days to discuss how things are progressing. Hopefully by then, the appetite will be returning and I'll be keeping the food down. That is another issue at the moment, what little I do eat doesn't stay down for long. I sleep a lot too. I think that's the nature of the grief and also the lack of food. The doctor has also suggested that I attend bereavement counselling again, but on my own. On my sickness certificate for work he didn't put depression, he didn't write stress, he wrote "A natural reaction to grief".

So, that's where I am at the moment, I hope I've gone as low as I am going to go and from hereon in I can begin to head back to a more comfortable place. It won't happen overnight, but given time I shall be back cycling, walking the Alf for miles and miles and playing five a side.