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A cwtch is a lovely big welsh hug.


I think that's the only downside to the whole hospice situation...not going to be taking him home again. I know many people go into the hospice and then go home when they're feeling better. It was the one thing I was worried about with Nige...we'd agreed he would go into the hospice if things got too much for me, but I couldn't bear the thought of him knowing it would be the last time he left our home. Thankfully, he was out of it when he got taken into hospital and it seems that Peter wasn't fully aware of where he was going either.


All we can hope now Mo, is that he remains calm. peaceful and pain free. He's been a total trooper and done so well and you've been amazing looking after him. It's just too sad that it comes to this.


Loads of love


Vx

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Thanks V. I feel quite cwtched.


I've just got home, because I was concerned about Boo, and they have just had to give Peter another dose of chemical cosh. He roused a little, so they tried, so carefully and gently, to take him to the bathroom but he wasn't prepared to cooperate one little bit. Even a strategically placed receptacle didn't produce a result and by this time he was very agitated, so the on-call doctor advised a sedative.


When I left he was settling down again so I decided to come home, make some phone calls, and spend some time with Boo. Having spent the day asleep on top of a radiator, Boo now wants to play games so is lugging his mouse and teddy up and down the stairs. I feel quite spaced out, everything is surreal and I know that I am going to remember this week for the rest if my life.


I can get to the hospice in 10 minutes if the traffic lights are with me so I'll just snooze at home rather than at the hospice.


Night folks

M

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Quickasyoucan

Mo, my lovely mum used to offer cwtchs too, as we are a Welsh family. I am so glad your hospice is so lovely. Dad liked ours so much that he had 2 visits and insisted with success that he wanted to die there. I like to think of it as his final victory, as it was just like a 5 star hotel and they were able to keep dad as comfortable as possible with constant adjustments to pain meds. They also had this wonderful bath/spa which dad insisted on using daily on his first visit. Don't worry about the bloods. The staff told us, as you have already worked out, that being comfortable is the ultimate goal. I hope you and Boo manage some sleep. Pets are the ultimate comfort to many of us. Xxx

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As a Catholic, I have always thought of death as a matter of changing trains to reach our ultimate destination. It seems to me that Peter is in some sort of waiting room, perhaps on Platform 2018, biding time until the right train comes along. A bit like those VIP airport lounges.


May sound a bit simplistic or childlike, but it comforts me. As does the thought that he will be reunited with our baby son, Phadraig, who died in 1974.


M

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Darling Mo, a couple of things just in case they are of use. Rob had 2 cats. One was brought in 2 days before he died and the other the day before. I’m not sure Rob was aware of them but they both chose to sit quietly on his bed which was frankly most unlike them. Secondly and this tends to happen more with younger people and Rob was 50, he seemed to have trouble breathing at the end and they wanted to sedate him further but instead I asked for an oxygen mask and that immediately brought relaxation and peace. I knew they were indulging me and said he wouldn’t have been aware but that’s not what I saw and did the same thing for my first husband who was even younger at 37. So go with your instincts and ask whatever you think is right. Oh and don’t forget music. In those last hours the only thing Rob reacted to was his favourite song and the sound of a Diet Coke can being opened As he was a life long addict. I even smeared a little on his lips even though he was essentially unconscious. All of us us who have gone before you Mo are holding your hand and although it has made me cry, it’s a lovely thought that he will soon be reunited with your little one. With much love, Didge xxx

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Well done Mo, you got him to the right place and you can rest from caring now and be his wife. You could never let the side down so don't worry about the state of your clothes and hair. Have a tidy up if it makes you feel better and don't if it is too much effort.


Love to you all,


M xxx

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All quiet on the hospice front. Peter is waiting patiently for the next train, and the waiting room is so luxurious and comfortable - if Richard Branson ran it it would be called Rockstar - that he's quite content to bide his time.


His breathing is uneven, and a bit noisy, although the noise is mostly snoring and something I've listened to for the past 46 years or so. This morning I played him some Glen Campbell and Neil Diamond tracks. In the past I've always maintained that playing this music constituted unreasonable behaviour on Peter's part but I'm prepared to overlook it in the circumstances. Not sure if it got through to him or not, so then we had some Andrea Bocelli but that didn't have any apparent impact either.


Boris is a bit edgy. Unsurprising really. There is a time to dance and a time to weep, and yesterday wasn't dancing. I howled for ages once I got home and Boo's lovely white coat was sodden. And can somebody explain to me why I bought a Big Mac at 11.30pm ? I don't even like Big Macs, I always have a Happy Meal. It was as though I was on automatic pilot, through the drive-in, order a Big Mac, drive home. Anyway, I didn't eat it. And onions are quite poisonous to cats so Boris wasn't even in the frame for late night munchies.


Peter had the most awful night sweat last night, judging by the t-shirts in the washing bag. So the PC continues to manifest itself - I don't know why I expected the symptoms to vanish really. Today the nurse was telling me that the first night that Peter was here he wanted to go out, and got mildly stroppy when he was prevented from opening the patio doors, so they switched the alarm on. Long ago I had threatened him with a high-security care home with high fences patrolled by security men with vicious dogs as soon as I found a toy-boy, so that made me smile a bit. He would have found it funny too.


This morning I woke from my semi-permanent doze to have the date 9/1/18 running through my mind. Not sure why - it may have been a hospital appointment or something. Nothing on the calendar though.


I have kept Peter's son up to date with developments, but I can't type fast enough on this stupid little Google keyboard to report the latest conversation. I will once i fire up the desktop PC.


Will stop for now. Perhaps I'll make some tea in the visitors kitchen and eat the breakfast I bought with me. Your support has been tremendous. Thank you.


X

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Darling Mo,


The words will not come through the tears, I am reliving these days with you but I remembered this poem which says it all really.

We who have kept vigil are all walking beside you and we hope our prayers hold you up when you are too exhausted.


Let us come in where you are weeping, friend,

And let us take your hand.

We, who have known a sorrow such as yours,

Can understand.

Let us come in -- We would be very still

Beside you in your grief;

We would not bid you cease your weeping, friend,

Tears can bring relief.

Let us come in -- We would only breathe a prayer,

And hold your hand,

For we have known a sorrow such as yours,

And understand.


God bless you all, give you a good day, and grant Peter a safe passage whenever he is ready.


M xx

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Yes...it does bring it all back, although Nige went very quickly at the end. We know the sadness you feel and there will be many more tears to come...Boris will have to get used to it, I'm afraid.


You do sound much more like the Mo we're used to today...the rest has paid off. I hope Peter stays as he is...he may well have heard the music, he's just too weary to respond.


Holding your hand in a virtual fashion Mo, and sending love.


Vx

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Hello Mo...I love the train analogy. It perfectly describes the awful period that you and Peter are going through. You're in my thoughts and I wish you strength for the next stage of Peter's journey.


Love Vee xxxx

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I think normal behaviour can go out the window. I remember stopping late at night on a deserted motorway slip road because a guy had pretended to break down. He tried to persuade me to give him money in exchange for his watch. I would never have done something so stupid normally. I’m willing you mental strength to get through the time ahead. I sometimes felt it was like permanently holding my breath. Assume Peter can hear even if he can’t respond. Sending lots of love as always xx

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Mo, you do sound more like the usual Mo, but we don't mind which Mo we get we love them all.

I am just glad to hear that Peter is more settled now, I am so glad you have Boris,his warm furry body will be such a comfort to you. Marmalade that poem was beautiful, thank you. Sending yet

more hugs Mo and we are all there with you love sandrax xx

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Hey Mo,


I am glad that Peter is in a place of caring and help. My dad did not suffer pain or sickness in the end - it is amazing what they can do. The only thing I found distressing was the way he breathed and seemed to be gasping for breath / laboured noisy breathing and my dear Marmalade helped me on the night with that one. Dad was not aware and when I took a proper peek as M suggested it was apparent he was not aware. Dad did get a little agitated a couple of hours before he died and the staff were ready for that and sedated him big time and it kept everything very calm. It was peaceful with that sedation. I was adamant about fluids until the end - if the end is inevitable I did not see why he should be thirsty as well and he seemed much more rested with fluids. Dad did not have oxygen like with Didge but I didn't think about to be honest.


I truly believe my dad chose his time to go. I had taken my eldest home and we had set the alarm for 2am to take over from my sister to be with mum. I heard a beep on my phone on route and he had died when I was 2 minutes away. I was there for my mum but not with him at the end and neither did I want to be. I didn't even go into the room until I went back there 4 hours later on my own after I changed my mind (they must be used to that because he was sill there waiting and the staff were lovely).


I think what I am trying to say in all the waffling is that there are no rights and wrongs - whether staying there, staying home, taking the cat, not taking the cat, sedation, not sedation.... etc etc. There are only your answers. As M said to me - time enters a new dimension and they are not really aware of what is happening so look after yourself.


My kids were actually so sick of Macdonalds and take out before and after dad died the eldest actually started to learn to cook! I must have spent hundreds and hundreds of pounds on take out rubbish. They even went with pre packed sandwiches from the local garage for their school lunches. I was a bad mother.


Much love and may this time be peaceful for you both.


xxx

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Gosh Dandy...we live on take away and supernoodles now over 12 months on...I must be a shocking mother!


She's right though Mo...you've just got to do it your way.


Vx

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They are all exactly right Mo, and that's were the hospice is so great they let you do it your way. I wanted to be with Trevor 24/7 and hold his hand, they were there in the background, and I knew when I needed them they would be there, peace of mind for me.

I didn't want the boys to see him die, I don't know why, I just wanted it to be me and him, and it was, I think it was a dignity thing for him, that made me feel that way, in the end he just stopped breathing, no agitation, nothing.

Dandy I am sure your lot would have lived on bread and jam, they knew I am sure you were just doing your best in a very difficult situation, no way were you a bad mum.xx

Veema you are not a bad mum either sometimes there are more important things in our life, than messing about cooking! You and Phoebe won't come to any harm I'm sure. xx

love sandrax xx

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I am staying at the hospice tonight; just feels like the right place to be. I nipped home to give Boo a quick cuddle and a dishful of food; he was not particularly impressed with the cuddle but professed mild interest in the food. I bet the whole lot went down in one as soon as I shut the front door behind me.


When this hospice was built there was a huge fundraising campaign to get it off the ground, and the fundraising has continued ever since. I've donated over the years, of course, and joined the 100 Club as soon as it started but I had no idea what the fundraising actually covered.


Bricks, mortar, specialist staff, utilities, imaginative design and layout, facilities for relatives who may have driven 200 miles to visit loved ones, nothing is stinted and everything is done to help patients and their families.


But fundraising doesn't pay for kindness, compassion and love. And it's here in abundance.


Peter is comfortable, which is really all that matters, and I have been treated royally. I wonder if Dame Cicely Saunders looks down from her place in heaven and feels satisfied with today's hospice movement ?


Thanks for all the support. Badly needed and gratefully accepted.

X

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