My husband, Brian, was an incredible man. His easygoing nature and sense of adventure it a magnet of people did. Proud, but humble, he never took things for granted and always gave as much as he received.
Not surprisingly, he had many friends and that the company turned out to be a blessing when he was diagnosed with mesothelioma. He needs his friends more than ever.
True to his character, Brian was ahead to his friends about his illness and prognosis of less than a year. His attitude was to get the news out there and then move on to his life. Brian never asked for sympathy, and he did not seem to need them. What he wanted more than anything was to feel normal. He asked his friends to continue the process in the same way as they had always.
Naturally, it was not an easy thing to do.
Some of his friends felt uncomfortable about his terminal illness, and showed discomfort around him. When they stopped coming around, I worried about the feelings of Brian and was grateful for those who stayed. Their continued support through his terminal illness helped Brian enjoy the precious time it was granted. He demonstrated what true friendship is all about.
Magic in the Bay
John, a former co-worker, stood above the rest. They shared a passion for fishing and the pair had spent many happy hours launch a line of dull our 12 feet.
The three of us shared a favorite fishing spot, the Bay of Rest Exmouth in Western Australia. Its flats teeming with a wide variety of fish. There was something magical bay. Nobody loved more than Brian, and he was determined not to let mesothelioma spoil his enjoyment of it.
Our fishing trips always followed a routine. First, Brian would cast the net used to trap the mullet schools. We reduced them to lure bigger fish later in the day. While John and I attended at the net, Brian would venture into the marshes surrounding the bay in search of mangrove crabs.
These elusive creatures live in the mud under the mangrove trees. They hide in deep holes, making them difficult to find ?? let alone capture ?? but Brian was an expert in this field. He had learned the art of taking them out of their burrows with a long-handled hook when he was a boy. He never failed to catch us a good diet. He was usually in mangrove swamp for about an hour. When he returned, we all had some serious fishing.
The fishing was not necessarily hard for Brian, but when there was an accumulation of fluid in his chest, he became breathless. He returned to normal after the doctors drained and continued to do most of the heavy lifting when we took the boat to the bay.
He was still tanned and strong in the early days, and I remember thinking: "How can he look this good when it's supposed to be dying? "
The hiatus of symptoms was short-lived. As Brian disease progressed, he experienced chronic pain, and I worried about what I was fishing. Fortunately, good management pain and the right medication helped keep the pain under control.
A friend to the rescue
When his strength began to weaken, it was John who came to the rescue . Without it being obvious to Brian, he wore over the charge to lift the boat and carrying the heavy outboard engine. it was not an easy task for a little man of average strength. I saw him stagger under the load more than once.
Despite his weakened condition, Brian continued to enter the mangroves in search of crabs. I began to fear that he could not get out alive. in Meanwhile it was torture, but I'm glad John was next to me talking. We had long conversations about Brian and what was happening to him. I found it useful to hear his views on how Brian was handling his illness.
I sometimes wanted to head into the mangroves looking for Brian after thinking something had happened to him. John always convinced me to stay still.
"Brian is doing something he loves," John told me. "It would not be happy if he felt that you believe more he could do."
With the help of John, Brian managed to fish his beloved rest bay until the day we had to spend two hours away from Perth for his chemotherapy treatments. I will never forget the look of joy on Brian's face every time he caught a fish or fish look of triumph when he came out of the mangrove crab with a full bag.
My gratitude to John is limitless.
John, as Brian is gone now, too.
I sometimes wonder if he and Brian are there in that dingy, pulling fish and crab from the sea and talk about old times.
