It was a warm afternoon in late July when we saw Chris in the village. He was on foot; we were in a car. We hadn't seen him for a couple of months. He leaned in through my window.
"Hi! How the bloody hell are you?" he asked brightly.
I looked at Ann. A few days earlier, we had been told that she had less than three months to live.
"Oh, you know..." I started, shrugging, feigning insouciance.
"Actually, I'm not very well," Ann said, cutting across me. "My cancer's come back."
Chris's smile disappeared and his brow furrowed in concern.
"Oh, shit. That's..." He paused for a moment. "So," he continued uncertainly, "more chemo?"
Ann smiled at him and shook her head.
"No Chris, there's nothing to be done. It's in my liver." Her eyes met his. "I've had it."
"But, surely..." His voice faded away as he saw Ann continuing to shake her head.
"Oh, they can maybe delay things for a month or two," she said gently. "But I really can't go through all that again."
I couldn't look at Chris' face. Chris: such a big, ugly, beautiful man; a man of deeds; a man so unaccustomed to impotence.
"But..."
Hiding the pain it must have caused her, Ann leaned across me and put her hand upon his where it rested on the top of my door.
"There's really nothing to be done, Chris. Honestly."
A little later, as we were driving out of the village, Ann turned to me.
"I think I was a little too abrupt," she said, biting her lip anxiously. "Poor Chris."
18 comments:
Oh such a heartbreaking story. I know just how you all felt. How hard it is to deliver the brutal truth anfd then the disbelieving face, the mouth struggling to articulate the right words where there are none. That stubborn refusal to reject such an inacceptable truth. Touch is best, words are simply inadequate, and Ann very brave and loving in her honesty.
I am so pleased you have returned, UNdefeated.
I, too, am glad to see you back. I love reading about Ann - you are a very good writer, you know?
Heartbreaking, but beautifully written.
It is good to see you back unbowed by that episode.
Welcome back to blogland Philip - bloody good for you.
Poor Chris, poor man. I'm sure he remembers this day as keenly as you do.
I remember meeting someone in a shop - a couple of months after my dad had died. He obviously hadn't heard ... "How are your parents?" he said, full of general chit chat. I thought 'Oh God, he doesn't know, and I have to tell him'. He was shocked, appalled that he didn't know, and his discomfort was far greater than mine.
Keep being yourself, keep blogging. :-) x
welcome back Philip....Gosh she was so brave.....you will never know how much this blog will mean to people....
hugs
Rachel x
Glad to see youre still blogging Philip, and telling Ann's story- and yours.
Cancer has touched my family too, and I understand how brave Ann was. I wish I had known her.
Leanne x
Welcome back chum!
non illegitimi carboruncum!
good to hear from you Philip, and to hear of Ann's compassion for others heartbreaking as it was to read.
My heart lept when I clicked on and found you here, once again. Good for you! Your writing is very beautiful. Your story so relevant - so important. Thankyou for sharing it.
Borne with courage and dignity....Ann must have been amazing.....I'm glad you decided to keep writing.
Kat x
Dear Philip,
I started reading your blog when Tracy posted about it, then lost it and now have found it again. I am glad you are back, no-one else has the voice you have and I hope that in some small way, this exercise helps you to process the enormity of Ann's death. For all those who dislike your blog, or disagree with you subject matter, please know that there are many more of us who support you in what you do.
Best wishes,
Claudia
i feel so bloody lucky to be able to call Anne my best friend - her courage at the end of her illness was beyond belief.
i miss her every day x
my boy - it is good to see you back
on the blog x
t x
I think you have made the right decision, keep on blogging, it is good for the soul and from a selfish point of view I am glad to see you back. Families are a law unto themselves and from my experience things usually sort themselves out. Time as they say is a great healer of all things.
Very moving story. So glad you feel able to share it with us
Glad you are back!
good work. I thought you were a trouper all the time. x
I second trashalou's comment. Well done.
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