Bill refused to die in a hospice. He held my hand and thanked me
I’d always thought I’d grow old with my husband Bill. Thinking about how we would spend our final days was not something we talked about.
We’d met in the pub when I was 18 and he was the lead singer in a rock band. We married in 1994 and our three children – Billy, now 20, Brad, 19, and Alice, 18 – followed quickly. Bill was a real character and a hive of energy, so I was worried when he started forgetting everyday words in 2007.
This was followed by little seizures. I spotted it when he was mowing the lawn at home in Farnham, Surrey. He stood as still as a statue and glazed over. He turned to me and said, “I think I’m dying.”
Bill had a scan and they found a brain tumour the size of a golf ball. It was grade four, the most aggressive. My husband, always so full of life, was given a year to live.
We we re shattered, but det ermined that if Bi l l would die, it would be on his terms. He wanted to carry on as normally as possible. To be outside everyday, fill the hours he had left with laughter and good memories.
Bill had a motorised scooter and we’d take the kids to fetes. We spent time with friends, enjoyed barbecues.
The steroids gave him a huge appetite and I remember him queueing up for a burger then whizzing round for another one, grinning and giving me a big thumbs-up.
Happy times like that got us through. Bill was offered a place in a local hospice, but he refused. He wanted to be at home and I was determined to give him that.
I don’t think I could have managed without the support Macmillan Cancer
support is campaigning for
people with cancer to be supported
to die in a place of their
choice. For more information,
visit macmillan.org.uk/
endoflife of Macmillan, though. Nurses guided us through the medication and equipment we’d need.
Two nurses came twice a day and would give him a bed bath, brush his hair and administer his meds.
When we were alone I would feed him and help him use the toilet.
Bill became nocturnal and wanted feeding during the night. During the day, I was busy with the kids. It was exhausting. I don’t know how someone twice my age does it.
As he neared the end, he held my hand and whispered, “Thank you.” That meant everything to me.
Bi l l died just before Christmas 2007, with me and the kids there. It was peaceful. He took two breaths and went. He was just 42 years old.
After all we’d gone through, I thought I’d be prepared but I was petrified. The loneliness was crushing. There’s no plugging that gap. But I knew I had to be strong for my children.
When Paul Daniels’ death was announced, I really knew what Debbie was going through.
And I know she’ll get through the grief eventually.
I’m so grateful we had that special time with my husband – I got to tell him I loved him a hundred times a day. There were many empty days and nights after Bill went.
Eventually I met sports coach Robbie, 33, and we married in 2012. We have a son Freddie, now two. But Bill is still very much with our family. We take comfort that he was with us until the last.
AS TOLD TO DAVID WOODE