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| Charley's kids |
Editor’s note: The
following is the final posting of Charlotte Kitley’s blog
“Living life with love, laughter and
Stage 4 Bowel Cancer.” She died on September 16, 2014. She had been a regular blogger on The Huffington
Post UK since 2013 and sadly passed away on Tuesday 16 September
from bowel cancer. She wrote one final post that she wished to share with all
of her readers. Like the editors of The Huffington Post UK we are honored to
offer it to you here.
MY LAST BLOG—By Charlotte Kitley--I've always been a good planner. I
like lists and tick sheets, to-do notes and objectives. I'm very good at
starting things, but honestly, I am also easily bored and quickly lose interest
once the original excitement passes.
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| Charley |
I haven't had the
luxury of being allowed to be bored of having cancer. It isn't something you
can just give up if you don't fancy doing it that day. There isn't a switch you
can chose to turn off one day from the next. At least not for me. From my first
day as a cancer patient, I have attended every test, scan and appointment. I
have tried every treatment offered, from the standard medical therapies, to
eating oiled cottage cheese, having acupuncture and juicing kale. Cancer has
become our life. Holidays, haircuts and helicopter lessons have all been timed
around good or bad chemo weekends. Danny and Lu, unwittingly as innocent
by-standers have had their childhoods protected but also dictated by my various
regimes. This is all they have ever known and, I hope, have still managed to
turn out to be pretty good, well-rounded, loved and treasured children.
The innocence that
we have protected them from has now had to be revealed. Following my birthday,
I started to feel 'unwell'. We 'popped' to hospital where the usual set of
tests were carried out. Unfortunately, when combined with a recent scan, the
results were nothing short of devastating. We were no longer looking at a month
by month action plan with a couple of months buffer at the end. I was given days,
perhaps a couple of weeks to live. I wasn't expected to leave the hospital, but
somehow, have managed to pull it out of the bag at the last moment and return
home, to spend what little time I have with my darling children and loving
husband.
As I write this, I
am sat on the sofa, relatively pain-free and busy doing my little projects,
sorting out the funeral and selling my car. We wake up every morning, grateful
I can have a cuddle and kiss my babies.
As you read this, I
will no longer be here. Rich will be trying to put one foot in front of the
other, to get by, a day at a time, knowing I will no longer awake next to him.
He will see me in the luxury of a dream, but in the harsh morning sun, the bed
will be empty. He will get two cups from the cupboard, but realise there is
only one coffee to make. Lucy will need someone to reach for her hairband box,
but there won't be anyone to plait her hair. Danny will have lost one of his
Lego policeman, but no one will know exactly which one it is or where to look.
You will look for the latest update on the blog. There won't be one, this is
the final chapter.
And so I leave a
gaping, unjust, cruel and pointless hole, not just in Halliford Road, but in
all the homes, thoughts and memories of other loved ones, friends and families.
For that I am sorry. I would love to still be with you, laughing, eating my
weird and latest miracle food, chatting rubbish 'Charleyisms'. I have so much
life I still want to live, but know I won't have that. I want to be there for
my friends as they move with their lives, see my children grow up and become
old and grumpy with Rich. All these things are to be denied of me.
But, they are not
to be denied of you. So, in my absence, please, please, enjoy life. Take it by
both hands, grab it, shake it and believe in every second of it. Adore your
children. You have literally no idea how blessed you are to shout at them in
the morning to hurry up and clean their teeth.
Embrace your loved
one and if they cannot embrace you back, find someone who will. Everyone
deserves to love and be loved in return. Don't settle for less. Find a job you
enjoy, but don't become a slave to it. You will not have 'I wish I'd worked
more' on your headstone. Dance, laugh and eat with your friends. True, honest,
strong friendships are an utter blessing and a choice we get to make, rather
than have to share a loyalty with because there happens to be link through
blood. Choose wisely then treasure them with all the love you can muster.
Surround yourself with beautiful things. Life has a lot of grey and sadness -
look for that rainbow and frame it. There is beauty in everything, sometimes
you just have to look a little harder to see it.
So, that's it from
me. Thank you so much for the love and kindness you've shown in your own little
ways over the last 36 years. From the mean girls in the playing fields who
pushed me into the stinging nettles aged six to the bereaved husbands who in
the last week have told me what their wives did to help prepare their young
children and everyone in between. They and you have all, in some small way
helped me become the person I have been.
Please, now use
that love for me and pass it to Rich, my children, family and close friends.
And when you close your curtains tonight, look out for a star, it will be me,
looking down, sipping a pina colada, enjoying a box of (very expensive)
chocolates.
Good night, Good
bye and God bless.
Charley xx
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