A year ago today was the last day we were ok, the last day that we were blissfully unaware of what was about to happen to us, the last day before we knew. To be perfectly frank there was nothing to remember about that day, except that it was our puppy Beetle’s first birthday. It was a day like many others. We got up, walked the dogs, Ruth probably spent a few hours at the allotment, I did some work, we may or may not have had a short afternoon nap, then we ate, then we slept. Nothing remarkable or notable in any way, except that we were ok.

The following lunchtime we ate in our local town and Ruth drove us back. Part way home she asked me to grab the wheel. When I asked why she said that she had no control of her left arm. We pulled over and swapped seats so I could get us home. When she got into the passenger seat and tried to close the door, she was shutting it on her leg. Once we got home she took to bed but was speaking and feeling fine. She thought she may have had a small stroke. We arranged for her to visit the Doctors the following morning where they took blood to get tests done. We were called in 24 hours later. The Doctor said that they had found an anomaly and needed to do some more blood work. It would need to be done at the local hospital. Innocently Ruth asked when? He replied “Right now”. It was the Friday of August Bank Holiday and for the first time we were both worried.

We thought it would be a few hours but they kept her for three days. Then the phone call “I can come home! Please come and get me, but you are going to have to be brave.” I made it to the hospital like lightening. “I have Cancer.” As I began to launch into the ‘we’ll fight it together, it will be ok’ speech she stopped me. “It is in my chest and has already spread to my brain. You are going to need to be really, really brave”.

What came after that was a few weeks of bewilderment and despair. What was the prognosis? (50% of the people with this make it to 6 months). What are the treatment options? (the chest needed chemo, the head needed radio. Not any radio but extensive because the cancer was all over her brain. Oh and one had to be finished before the other could be started). The realisation that her 6 months was now 5 months and could be extended with all of the horrid treatment to maybe 7 months. The hardest of decisions, 7 months of hell or maybe 3 good months before a decline. We told the children and then the family together that the decision was no treatment.

We targeted a good last Christmas for her and to be fair we did that, with some days in the sun and some wobbles along the way. Then a rapid decline, by mid January a transfer to the hospice and a month later my darling girl was gone. Five and a half bloody months from diagnosis to gone.

There is so much more I could say, the lying on the bed together holding hands, the strength of our children, the funeral planning and her ‘after-party’ playlist, the support from family and friends and the dreadful hole where she used to be.

Today is Beetle’s 2nd birthday. He and Ripley and I have been without Ruth for 6 months and it is the anniversary of the last day we were ok.