Heartbreaking
I still want to honour and celebrate my wife’s favourite time of the year, despite its heartbreaking resonance...
Mike Pollard, 71
Stepping through my front door, I was transported into a winter wonderland. With ivy spiralling up the staircase banisters, to a huge Christmas tree glittering in the living room, my wife Brenda, then 62, was a huge Christmas fan.
Despite me having to work on-call over the holidays, even on Christmas Day, coming home to Bren was the best Christmas present.
‘Mike’s back!’ she’d say as I arrived home.
She’d spent Christmas Day at her son’s house to celebrate while I was working.
In 2019 we made the most of Christmas Eve, visiting Hampton Court with my daughters Cath and Rachel.
That Christmas was so special – Bren’s firstChristmas cancer-free. In December 2018, after swatting away a wasp that had landed on her chest, Bren discovered a lump in her left breast. Getting checked out at the GP, she was sent for more tests.
It didn’t stop her from celebrating
But that didn’t stop Bren from celebrating – she still tucked into our traditional roast dinner.
Only, reality struck on Boxing Day, when Bren was diagnosed with stage four breast cancer.
‘Cancer doesn’t take a day off at Christmas and nor do we,’ Bren’s consultant told us.
Going through chemotherapy, radiotherapy and two operations to remove the cancerous mass,Bren was a trooper.
She lost her hair during chemo, but that didn’t grind her down. ‘I’ve got cancer, but I can still look good!’ she said, matching her wigs to her outfits.
And luckily, in 2019, Bren got the all-clear – in time for Christmas, too. That year we had Christmas as usual – it was nice to have our normality back.
But in February 2020, things took a turn for the worse.
Running for the train home one day, Bren fell behind, clutching at her back. The next day, I drove her to A&E at Cheltenham Hospital where she was told she had spine cancer.
It had even spread to her kidneys and liver, too.
And this time, it was terminal.
The doctors couldn’t give her a prognosis – every case was unique.
Speaking to Bren, you’d never know anything was amiss.
‘I might swap you for this doctor,’ she laughed. ‘He’s lovely!’
Despite Bren going through chemotherapy, radiotherapy and testing a trial drug, prolonging
