Thank you Expat, Vikki, Mickied and Newbie for your posts. 

I am calmer now but still bitterly disappointed in Ian.  I will happily admit that I am the most selfish person on the planet.  So when Ian's cancer journey started, there were probably a few people who thought I wasn't up to throwing myself into his care.  For seven years now I have put Ian first in absolutely everything.  I put up with that **** from the oncologist on a regular basis because I knew Ian needed someone with him in that clinic office.  When the oncologist threw a wobbly because I asked for a written copy of a CT scan to pass to Ian's income protection insurance company, I wanted to walk out.  Our social worker said I should have - that it would have been a very powerful statement.  On that occasion Ian just sat submissively letting his wife take the flack.  I felt betrayed that day and threatened to never attend another clinic.  Clearly Ian has a short term memory problem or just thought he could rely on me to take whatever **** came my way. 

So yesterday marked a huge shift in our relationship.  It was such a tiny thing to get upset over but every strong person has a breaking point.  And as I said, if Ian had backed me up and asked "Couldn't she just walk me to the door" (because he says he was **** scared and would, I think, have appreciated the support) and the nurse had then refused, I wouldn't be feeling so betrayed after seven years of complete and utter (uncharacteristic) unselfishness.  For heavens sake one-quarter of Ian's life insurance proceeds are going to have to go to paying off a long term loan on his dream car that we bought on HP four months before he was diagnosed.  Everyone, especially the accountant, said get rid of it, but I said it was Ian's dream car and he deserved it.  I make that quarter the equivalent to seven years frugal living by me so getting a job after Ian dies will be a high priority.

Time to start being more selfish and looking after myself better.

Ian needed to know, Newbie, that I had gone away for Me Time because that spoke much, much louder than anything I could (or have) put into words.  He knows I have never, ever put myself ahead of him in the past seven years.   But I also explained to him verbally how betrayed and let down I felt that he wouldn't put up even a token word for me.

So today we set off for radiation and before we drove out I told him I would not be sitting like a biddable little wifey in the waiting room, just so he knew and we didn't have that discussion on arrival at the hospital.  I drove him to the door and said I would return in 3/4 hour and if he wanted to be picked up sooner, he could text.  He looked shocked and upset - clearly I was supposed to sit quietly in the car.  I went into town and had a coffee and a savoury and read a cafe magazine.

I returned a little late but he was even later, because he had to see a nurse about the vomitting side-effects he had last night.  Yes, people, he vomitted three times - the last time he had to tell me loudly how many times just to try to pull my "guilt strings" and I told him to take his health into his own hands for once and ring the hospice for advice.  So now the radiation nurse has suggested another drug regime.  He gets shirty when I dish out drugs, second-guessing everything I do, so I told him to write it on the kitchen whiteboard along with the rest of the drug regime and follow it.

Did I say I was calmer?? Not much actually.  I have lost my job (having been sacked by our business partners) and I have effectively lost all my friends (who are "giving us space," "have got a cold," "don't know what to say," or just plain haven't been in touch lately to even know that Ian's having radiation).

But worst I feel I have lost the respect and support of my very best friend, Ian.

Perhaps tomorrow I can post in a better frame of mind.

Good luck to all carers out there - we have a thankless task and it's made even harder when we let the enormity of what's happening to our loved ones into our consciousness.

Lorraine

Thank you Expat, Vikki, Mickied and Newbie for your posts. 

I am calmer now but still bitterly disappointed in Ian.  I will happily admit that I am the most selfish person on the planet.  So when Ian's cancer journey started, there were probably a few people who thought I wasn't up to throwing myself into his care.  For seven years now I have put Ian first in absolutely everything.  I put up with that **** from the oncologist on a regular basis because I knew Ian needed someone with him in that clinic office.  When the oncologist threw a wobbly because I asked for a written copy of a CT scan to pass to Ian's income protection insurance company, I wanted to walk out.  Our social worker said I should have - that it would have been a very powerful statement.  On that occasion Ian just sat submissively letting his wife take the flack.  I felt betrayed that day and threatened to never attend another clinic.  Clearly Ian has a short term memory problem or just thought he could rely on me to take whatever **** came my way. 

So yesterday marked a huge shift in our relationship.  It was such a tiny thing to get upset over but every strong person has a breaking point.  And as I said, if Ian had backed me up and asked "Couldn't she just walk me to the door" (because he says he was **** scared and would, I think, have appreciated the support) and the nurse had then refused, I wouldn't be feeling so betrayed after seven years of complete and utter (uncharacteristic) unselfishness.  For heavens sake one-quarter of Ian's life insurance proceeds are going to have to go to paying off a long term loan on his dream car that we bought on HP four months before he was diagnosed.  Everyone, especially the accountant, said get rid of it, but I said it was Ian's dream car and he deserved it.  I make that quarter the equivalent to seven years frugal living by me so getting a job after Ian dies will be a high priority.

Time to start being more selfish and looking after myself better.

Ian needed to know, Newbie, that I had gone away for Me Time because that spoke much, much louder than anything I could (or have) put into words.  He knows I have never, ever put myself ahead of him in the past seven years.   But I also explained to him verbally how betrayed and let down I felt that he wouldn't put up even a token word for me.

So today we set off for radiation and before we drove out I told him I would not be sitting like a biddable little wifey in the waiting room, just so he knew and we didn't have that discussion on arrival at the hospital.  I drove him to the door and said I would return in 3/4 hour and if he wanted to be picked up sooner, he could text.  He looked shocked and upset - clearly I was supposed to sit quietly in the car.  I went into town and had a coffee and a savoury and read a cafe magazine.

I returned a little late but he was even later, because he had to see a nurse about the vomitting side-effects he had last night.  Yes, people, he vomitted three times - the last time he had to tell me loudly how many times just to try to pull my "guilt strings" and I told him to take his health into his own hands for once and ring the hospice for advice.  So now the radiation nurse has suggested another drug regime.  He gets shirty when I dish out drugs, second-guessing everything I do, so I told him to write it on the kitchen whiteboard along with the rest of the drug regime and follow it.

Did I say I was calmer?? Not much actually.  I have lost my job (having been sacked by our business partners) and I have effectively lost all my friends (who are "giving us space," "have got a cold," "don't know what to say," or just plain haven't been in touch lately to even know that Ian's having radiation).

But worst I feel I have lost the respect and support of my very best friend, Ian.

Perhaps tomorrow I can post in a better frame of mind.

Good luck to all carers out there - we have a thankless task and it's made even harder when we let the enormity of what's happening to our loved ones into our consciousness.

Lorraine

Hi Lorr,

Sorry there's a little bit of my former profession coming into play here. I know it's painful and guilt-inducing to feel angry about/against Ian but actually it's normal, neccessary and healthy.

At a very basic level the b*****d got cancer without telling you he was going to. I have tried to keep aware that, whatever I may think, (no blame, it could happen to anybody, poor Janet) at a deep level I'm feeling the b**ch got cancer which I didn't want any part of.

I know that's a "wrong" way to feel. I know she had no choice. I know she needs and deserves my support. BUT I didn't want to be supporting somebody through cancer and here I am doing it. Whom/what else do I blame?

So we set out to fight the injustice that someone we love has got cancer and we meet with..."We really can't tell"..."We need to take more tests"..."We'll try this treatment and see what happens"..."Sorry the results of that test were filed and nobody thought to act on them"...."Its a shame we didn't catch it sooner, the outcome might have been better"..."I don't think the delay is likely to have affected the outcome"....

We do manage to control our wrath. We say "Could you perhaps?... Is there any possibility that?...My partner is concerned about..."  whilst our poor shocked partners sit nodding and (totally innapropriately) smiling at whatever the medics say.

Then, when push comes to shove, we want to stay with our partners until the last possible second and they say "Go away, the nurses (THE NURSES!) don't want you here.
Jan actually went one better. She had a nurse on her ward who escorted her down to surgery. This nurse had phoned me at work because  Jan was crying and needed me there. We came to the scrub zone and, of course, I had to go. Jan's nurse from the ward (she had theatre experience) scrubbed up and followed Jan through to the operation theatre. The surgical nurses, according to Jan, physically evicted her ward nurse.

What is that about? Here's a fully trained theatre nurse who wants to bring her human relationship with a patient into the operation room and she's banned!

So sometimes the nurses don't even want other nurses to be present, let alone carers.

But what I'm waffling around is the basic thing that that you need to tell Ian, directly and simply, how that incident made you feel. You need to agree, in advance, how far he wants you to be involved in future procedures, and to both stick by those agreements.  Hospitals may point out that you could be exposed to levels of X-ray or other radiation that might damage your health, in which case you'd obviously change your expectation , but you need to have a game plan and both stick to it.

Please don't let Ian's perfectly understandable apathy(?) about his current treatments spoil your wonderful relationship in these last few years, months, weeks or days. He may not feel that bothered about whether you're there for the next consultation about the last attempts to prolong his life. He may be in a space where he actively doesn't want your optimism and zest for life to influence his decisions.

Obviously I don't know but the only way that you can find out is to ask him.

s***! I've apparently given some advice which I'm in no place to do. Sorry. Do what is right for you.

I really hope your love for Ian overcomes your anger at him. I kind of hope that you can agree a new way of dealing with his death professionals (as contrasted with health professionals) which gives you both ease,

My best wishes to both of you,

Russ