Deep in the heart of Wiltshire

Well it is hot and I am locked in a room taking a break from homeworking to get this started. Family life goes on around me. Except that it is a very different family life than back in May, one that was changed forever in June when Tracey, my wife, was diagnosed with breast cancer.

Wherever I turn and whatever I do it is there. It's in the flowers in the kitchen, the cards in the sitting room, the looks on the kids faces and the concern on Tracey's mother's eyes. It's in the phone calls, texts and emails and the pain killers ready for consumption. It's in my head during every quiet moment and it's giving me a very short fuse. But worst of all it's in my gorgeous, caring, tired wife and there is nothing I can do about it. I can't stop it or treat it or cure it. All I can do is shout at it, quietly as I don't want to disturb her.

Why does it always happen to me, I hear myself think, but of course it isn't happening to me and that just makes me feel more guilty even though I know the cancer wasn't caused by me. I have the greatest capacity for feeling sorry for myself.

But first some facts. Tracey was diagnosed with breast cancer early on June and had her right breast removed on 24 June. Tracey started a blog http://traceytinsley.blogspot.com soon after diagnosis and I continued the blog during her time in hospital. If you want to keep up with Tracey read her blog. I found blogging a good way to release some of the things I was thinking. When she took her blog back I decided that I would write my story the view of someone living with a cancer sufferer.

I think the first thing that I worried about when starting this was tone, would I be too upbeat or too morose or just too shallow. who knows? I think the thing about the blog is that I am writing it for me, to get some of the things out of my head that are hard to say and to show everyone how cancer looks from the family/partner viewpoint.

So where do I start? I am not a stranger to cancer, My mother died from it and my brother is a survivor of bladder cancer. My mothers last illness was very drawn out and what hurts me most about it is that all my memories of her are of her in her last, very sick days. It not only took her away from me it took away the good memories too. Too Morose!

So I have views and experience of cancer. but my mothers cancer was 30 years ago, although it colours what I feel, things have changed, got better. Cure is now the norm and cure is what we will get. Back to upbeat.

I have been worried about Tracey's "lumps" for a while and was very glad when we went to the clinic. We always knew cancer was a possibility but we had been through this before in 2006 and perhaps expected an "all clear". When the diagnoses came through I think we were both stunned. I supposed this was the point when I realised I had to be "strong", the male role. Except I didn't feel strong inside. Tracey is the strong one in my family, probably followed by Olivia, I am way down the pecking order.

So there I was, a shoulder to lean on, keeping it all in. Tracey made most of the important phone calls to her family and I phoned my relatives and friends. Who should I tell? Who would want to know? Do I want to talk to any one? Get a grip!

Everyone was wonderful, without exception. Even work has been very good to me, Thank god for public service. We had a few lovely days before surgery including a great day out with kids in Dorset and then - chop, chop, all change.

I suppose my problem with this has been just coming to grips with it. No surgery for me. No agonising wait. No major operation, no changes to my body. Just lots of people feeling sorry for Trace AND ME. But why me? I'm not ill. You see I can even turn this in to self pity.

But don't get me wrong, I am thankful for all the support and offers of help. We have had a house full of flowers and love for the last few weeks. I've spent a few sleepless moments just staring at her sleeping, breathing (and snoring before I get too sloppy).

I suppose the point I am trying to make is that I feel so helpless and hopeless. I have spent the last week burning energy, moving from one job to another but not actually getting anything done. Start this, start that. Fill the pool, water the plants, feed the fish, move the rabbits, read a book, write the blog, go to work, sweep, wash, cook. And the lack of sleep. Perhaps this is worse of all. I just couldn't get sleep, not until my Trace was beside me again. Ironically the problem now is that I snore too loudly and have to be woken at regular intervals.

So where are we now? The chronology is simple, hospital, test, diagnosis, operation, home. We are now waiting for test results and then more results, therepy, therapy, therapy. But that doesn't give a clue about where the family is.

I've already told you about me. I am going slowly mad through worry and lack of sleep. This is nothing that a quiet weekend won't cure (at least for a while). I think I will read a good history book.

What about the kids? Well they are holding up well, some teenage drama and sulking, a few arguments, but that is all normal. Livi is spending a bit more time than usual with her boyfriend, but they are going on holiday at the end of the week so may be that is normal. Adam is Adam. Futsal music and eating. Braces off in September. And Vaughan, a bit more argumentative than normal but that might be just me.

The Tinsley family moves on. The thoughts of chairman Chris will appear agin when I have cleared my head. Perhaps we can move on to politics, I have the Liberal Democrats in my sights at the moment.

Chris x