See that guy up there? Well…it’s my husband’s best friend Tim.
Actually, it’s not. It’s Simon le Bon, but you’d never know the difference.
Rob and Tim have been friends for years, and I could share so many hilarious stories with you about their crazy antics. I’ve already told you the story of Rob, Tim, and Rob’s brother who had no legs…. (link)
Together, they’re absolutely unbelievable. And unstoppable.
You know how some people are just funny? Without even trying to be? Well that’s Tim. He is so infectiously witty and such great fun to be around…he really is like a breath of fresh air in an often miserable world. Add to that the fact he’s intelligent, kind, generous and utterly charming…well…you’ve got a pretty nice bloke. It’s hard to put into words what’s so special about him – it’s probably best said by simply telling you that if you met him, you’d want to be his friend. He’s just the sort of guy you’d want to have in your life. And as well as being a great friend to so many, he has an adorable wife and a beautiful 12 year old daughter.
Last week, Tim learned that he has terminal cancer.
When I heard the news on Valentine’s Day, I was getting ready to go for an interview, and suffice to say, I never made it. (Thanks for that mate!)
That day was also Tim’s wedding anniversary.
The world suddenly seemed like a very strange and unstable place and it took me a long time to comprehend what I’d just been told. As I often do, I immediately put myself in Tim’s position, and couldn’t bear the impact it had on me. I couldn’t begin to imagine what he was going through, suddenly faced with a death sentence. And what the hell was his wife was going through? At that point, I knew he still had to somehow sit down and tell his daughter.
How the fuck does someone do that?
For a couple of days I was a bit of a mess, as was Rob. We had some long conversations, interspersed with some very long silences. Rob had already seen Tim, but I had yet to make my first visit. That happened on Monday, and driving up to the house, I was absolutely terrified. I already knew that Tim, in his own words, “doesn’t do morose”, and I was scared of not being able to hold back the tears. I was also scared that I wouldn’t know what to say to him. After spending a few hours with him though, I can’t believe how differently I feel about it all. I left his house smiling, and there were no tears at all.
I’ve had to deal with death a few times in my life – deaths of elderly relatives, the sudden deaths from accidents – but I’ve never seen first hand the impact of a terminal illness in someone so young. And what I saw was not what I’d expected. What I expected was anger. Fear. Sadness. Disbelief. Shock. And a whole host of other emotions. Yet I saw none of it.
Tim discovered his first malignant tumour about six years ago. He went through his treatment, recovered, and life went on as before. And then, some time later, he found another one. Because he “doesn’t do morose,” on the outside he was always just the same ol’ Tim. You’d never have guessed there was anything wrong with him because he never talked about it. And he was so full of life….so happy. He always is.
But he explained to me yesterday the rollercoaster of dealing with it all. He explained how things become so much more difficult once the C word has been stamped on your record. Buying a home, and getting travel insurance, to name just two. More recently, he said, it seems he has either been getting ready for treatment, having it, or recovering from it. For a long time now he has been unable to plan ahead…unable to see further than a few weeks ahead…because of the uncertainty of whether he’d get ill again. When his friends were planning a bike trip down to the South of France, he had to question whether it was worth paying the deposit, only to lose it. And even if he was well enough to travel, what if he fell ill over there with no insurance? As more and more doors of opportunity were closing for him, I guess it all began to take its toll. He was getting tired of it all, tired of not being able to live his life the way he wanted…with energy, passion and enthusiasm, and with plans for his future.
So yes…for Tim, this news is sad. And it’s a real bummer. But he said yesterday, with so much candour, that it is also a relief. It means no more uncertainties. It means an end to the weary road of treatment after treatment…of having good days, full of hope, only for it all to be snatched away again.
So he’s facing this in the same way he has lived his life – with a smile on his face, cracking jokes at every opportunity, and not allowing anyone to be depressed. He seemed positively overjoyed yesterday when the postman delivered an application form for a disabled parking badge!
He talked openly and honestly about “the end” and how he wants it to be. He decided to not go to hospital for a booked appointment for more treatment, because he said it wouldn’t prolong his life, just his death. He knows, in is heart, that it’s not really the end and that he’ll be coming back. What as, he’s not entirely sure, but he said that after his funeral, we’re not to kick the dog on the way out.
He talked about the effects of morphine which he is self administering in small doses at the moment (a very silly decision of the nurse who gave it to him, he said, because she doesn’t know what he’s bloody like!) But he mentioned the wonderful dreams he’s had after his operations in that drug induced state…dreams of blue skies and beautiful beaches…dreams where there’s no pain, no worries…just wonderful, carefree days. He said if we find ourselves sitting at the hospital and looking at a very sick man in a few months time, and feeling sad, to just think about where he is in his head. And he added: “and don’t even bloody think about waking me up to say hello.”
I tried to write this post so many times over the weekend, and failed miserably. I just didn’t have the words and I’m sure had I succeeded, it would have been as miserable as hell. Now though, I’m just filled with a sense of calm. Tim said himself that he’s had a fantastic life. He got to do so many great things, he has fantastic friends, and the most wonderful wife and daughter. He worked in a job he loved where he was able to help people. He got the chance to buy his dream bike a while back, and recapture his youth, spending glorious days with the wind in his hair and the sun on his face. He said that some poor fuckers are sad and miserable, and die having achieved none of that. So none of us are to be sad.
What an absolutely incredible man. I knew that already, but his attitude in facing this, has just completely blown me away.
I am so honoured to be able to call him my friend, and to have shared a part of his life.
Tim…I know you’re reading this…I just want you to know that the current Mrs D loves you to bits. xxx
Oh…in case I forget to mention this next time… we were talking about ghosts, weren’t we?
If you do decide to pop back for a visit before you come back for good, don’t you dare go doing any of that Entity shit on me, ok?
Oh My God. Elaine, I am very sorry to hear that you and Rob face losing touch with such a dear friend, but also a little envious that you have such a fantastic friend who even at this stage of his life, can hold his head up, look trouble in the eye and say “Up Yours. You can take my life but you will never have my soul” We could all learn so much from Tim, it kinda makes me feel pretty stupid for allowing my troubles to have such an adverse effect on me. I could do with a friend like Tim, just to kick me up the arse.
Tim, as Elaine says you are reading this, I would just like you to know, that you have unknowingly touched my life in a way you can never imagine. I hope the rest of this life is every bit as wonderful as you hope it will be, and that the next one is even better. Sweet dreams.
Hugs to you all. x
I’m so sorry to hear about your friend, how devastating that must be.
People like him are a true inspiration.
*hugs*
Despite the fact that my son always calls me a girl (because of the theatre stuff and bell choir, so forth)….but really, I’m (mostly) a hard-hearted bastard. Stuff doesn’t touch me as much as it ought.
But.
But.
I’m sitting here smiling and misty; right on the edge of tears…..
What a lovely, sad, sweet, optimistic posting.
I agree… Wow.
What a special special man.
You’re tugging at my heart strings here…and I don’t have many heart strings.
Steve~
oh Elaine, I know that you said this was not suppose to be sad, or that Tim is not sad but as I read this I felt the tears running down my face. I will keep Tim in my prayers and please please send us little updates when you get a chance.
I know exactly how you must be feeling. A family member was given the same news and a year to live last April.
It makes me so grateful that at the moment I am healthy.
So sorry to hear about you losing a dear friend, but it sounds like he’s approaching things with mindfulness and celebrating all that was good in his life.
Im full of admiration for Tim and the way he is handling this. I can only dream of having courage like his in the face of something so dreadful. My thoughts are with him and his family.
It’s such an emotive subject that I can’t help but shed a tear,partly in sadness at what this family are facing and partly in shame at my own stupidity for stressing over the stupid things in life.
What an incredible man this Tim must be. All of my problems in life seem so minor when I hear stories like this. It makes me realize that the days of useless complaining I sometimes do solves nothing…
and perhaps I just wasted another day by not living life to the fullest.
It’s the hardest thing in the world to go and see a friend who has just received news like that. You are afraid of saying something really dumb and all you can do is shake and nod your head at the appropriate times.
Tim, the handsome lug, is in my thoughts and prayers.
Just absolutely heartbreaking.
Also, know I’m thinking of you and Rob, too.
Many blessings to all!
Laney, my thoughts and prayers are with you and Rob and Tim and his family.
Hugs.
TME
Very courageous man. They (doctors)can be wrong you know … when I was 17 or 18 I was told that I would probably be dead by the time I was 50. Well, I am 56 as of last week and doing very well.
Big hugs for all of you! He is an ispiration and I think you and Rob are very lucky to have him in your lives.
Do you remember me sharing with you the dream about my journey, and how at the end I was faced with death, but it was okay, because I had lived a life full of adventure, and had shared joy and tears with those I loved?
For me, it was just a dream. Tim is facing it for real. But he is facing it with courage and strength, and by taking joy in his life and in those he loves.
It does make a difference.
And he does sound like someone very special.
Hugs to you all.
Now I see what you meant when you said you had a difficult post coming….
That’s such a tragedy Miss; I don’t really know what to say- except if that dog at the church is there- give him a really big cuddle from everyone who reads here ,as well.
So sorry x
I’ve been putting off reading this because I knew it was going to touch a nerve with me.
But twenty four hours later and a big deep breath, I’ve took the plunge, and I’m so glad I did now.
My thoughts are with him, his family and everybody else around him.
What a man of grace and dignity… I’m awe struck at the moment.
I hope and pray that everyone who reads this will take a little bit of inspiration from you both.
Laney you have paid a wonderful tribute to your dear friend.
You are all in my prayers.
xo
What a man of grace and dignity… I’m awe struck at the moment.
I hope and pray that everyone who reads this will take a little bit of inspiration from you both.
Laney you have paid a wonderful tribute to your dear friend.
You are all in my prayers.
xo
I will say a little prayer for Tim and Marie. X
Laney, you did it again. You made me reach for the damned box of Kleenex. Damn you girl!
I wish I knew Tim. After reading this, I feel that I do. What an awesome guy.
And I know you better, Laney, after reading this. And I think you and Tim are both incredibly wonderful people, who are touching me more than you know it, via cyberspace.
As you know I’ve been sort of surrounded by death in the past few months. I’ve come to learn that it’s just a natural thing. And none of us is immune. It’s the great equalizer.
This post brought back the last few months with my dad. It’s amazing how we all go through the same experiences. We’re all humans, intimately connected by those experiences. And we touch each other in ways we can’t even fathom.
Thanks for writing this post, Laney. I think I can put the Kleenex away now.
Oh, I’ve sat here and sat here trying to think fo something to say but there are no words that even come close to expressing how I feel.
My heart goes out to you and your friend and family
tim is certainly a very brave man !
its wonderful that u all him for a friend.
my prayers to you all.
I just want to thank each and every one of you for your kind words and prayers. xxx
You, rob and Tim and his family are in my prayers.
I’m so sorry to hear about your friend. That’s very sad. Also, I clicked on the link and read your old post about your husband. My husband does all that stuff too. He’s always trying to get me to think I’ve lost the car keys, calling me and saying, so, why’d you call me? and other pranks. And I fall for it every time!
WOW I am sorry for all that you guys are going through kiddo. I can only tell you Kitty and I will keep you guys in our thoughts, and prayers. Big hugs to you right now kiddo.
PS: “how in the fuck do you tell them that.” I have know idea. This is something I and, I imagine all of us never have to do, and you have no idea how sorry I am that someone has to. OXOXO