Today I visited Mrs M, who is in her late 80s. She wanted to talk about a problem with a rash and get some advice about her medication. Once I’d talked to her about her concerns, my GP antennae started twitching and telling me that there was Something Else Going On. A few gentle questions later it became very clear that not only was she lonely, but also very depressed. The immaculately dressed lady in front of me was struggling to get out of bed in the morning and had only dressed today because I was coming over. She was sleeping poorly, not eating, crying every day, and feeling “ready for the knacker’s yard”. Since her husband died a few years previously she had never really recovered, and the grief had been overtaken by depression. We talked about depression and what it meant; we talked about treatment and the options we had (what the Royal College of GPs calls “exploring the patient’s ideas, concerns and expectations”). And then we talked about her husband, “because you never really get over losing your husband. Not after fifty years”.
It took me back to an ongoing fear I have about widowhood. Soci
ety has never really come to terms with the widowed. A friend whose husband died young from cancer talks about how, young or old, widows make us feel very scared and uncomfortable. There is no way to solve the problem. You can’t make it better. Is there anything that doesn’t sound trite when you’re consoling someone who has lost their life partner, the person they’ve spent every day with and every night sleeping next to ever since they fell in love? We see a lot of widows in general practice, so many people who’ve been left stranded, that it almost becomes usual. Of course, like every patient, scratch the surface and discover the story and it’s frequently a very everyday tale of love and loss. Everyday but no less poignant for that.
I left her house and called my husband just to tell him that I loved him. Wouldn’t you have?
10 Comments
16 July, 2008 at 5:05 pm
Let me be the first to say welcome to you. I’m a relatively new blogger (just over two weeks now) and having read all three of your posts I am going to add you to my blog list so that I read you regularly.
I, too, am a widow. My husband died nearly 10 years ago when I was just 44. His death was very sudden, totally unexpected, and occurred while we were on holiday in another country. Depression and loneliness have been real problems for me too, and I appreciate the help and support that I have received from my GPs. What touched a nerve with me about your post was that you say that society hasn’t come to terms with widowhood. You are absolutely right. Because I am a relatively young widow, when I go anywhere on my own where couples are the norm, people automatically assume that I am divorced and that I am on the lookout for my next husband, yet I have continued to wear both my own and my husband’s wedding rings all this time.
Keep blogging, I’m sure that I am going to enjoy what you have to say.
18 July, 2008 at 9:00 pm
And the idea that you will ‘get over it’ is one tha should be kicked into touch for good. I have a husband of many years standing, but before him I was with someone for 8 years and going to marry him when he, like the commenter above, died very suddenly, aged 43. Even though it is 36 years ago, I have never ‘got over it’, it is in many ways the same as it was the day it happened, and I know not only that I won`t but that I shouldn`t and wouldn`t want to get over it. Why would I ? Love it stronger than death and what is time, anyway ? I say this even after many years of happy marriage and the births of 3 children and all the rest if the water that has flowed under the bridge. Perhaps if widows were not made to feel they had to get over it, life might be easier on them. It doesn`t mean you need to let everything in life go, forget other people, other interests.. life is still there. But why should widows be expected to forget and start running round looking for someone else within half an hour – and if they find them, then be expected to expunge everything about the former love from their lives and their memories.
A friend lost her husband in tragic circumstances a few years ago and asked me when she would begin to ‘forget.’
I said ‘Never.
19 July, 2008 at 11:03 am
You describe general practice at its best. My praise seems pointless. Res ipsa loquitur.
You also make an interesting point about widows being unsettling. I expect you are right – because they are a momento mori.
That’s quite enough Latin for one comment.
And welcome! I’m delighted to find you blogging, and look forward to reading your posts in future.
AB
19 July, 2008 at 12:19 pm
I, too, am a GP. Your piece about widows rang bells with me as it will with all GPs, I am sure. One of my most poignant memories is of when I met a new patient who had been a widower for a couple of years. I asked him how long he had been married and he told me, “52 years”. “A long time”, I replied. “Not long enough”, was his response, which stopped me in my tracks. Of course, he was right. Good luck with your blog.
20 July, 2008 at 5:36 pm
The little hairs on my arm stood up when I read the last line of this post. I so often leave my sessions with patients and have an overwhelming desire to call my husband, my parents, my best friend… I see it as a gift of the job-not taking the ones you love for granted!
20 July, 2008 at 8:08 pm
Thank you all for your kind words. One of those days in GP-land where you feel that you’ve matured just that little bit more, I think.
psychsarah – “a gift of the job” – what a lovely way of looking at it.
8 September, 2008 at 6:35 pm
[...] me something, doctor? 08Sep08 It had to happen eventually. Mrs M, whom I wrote about in my very first post, isn’t doing too well. When I visited today, she had taken to bed. I had been called out as [...]
13 November, 2008 at 5:32 pm
HI,
I lost my dear husband, Fred, a month ago, and still am in shock. He died, suddenly, after a morning on a tractor, of sudden cardiac death, in my arms. A part of me died with him. After 33 yrs of marriage, a great marriage, this is extremely difficult for me. I try and count my blessings, and I have many, including 4 incredible children, and 4 grandchildren.
I believe the answer, is that “Never” will I get over this. I just want to be able to breathe normal again.
Amy
23 November, 2008 at 3:20 am
my husband dieds 5 yrs ago this december. we were married only 13 yrs. i tried to go on but i find myself staying by myself ,shutting out family, my closest bud is my new dog .my husband’s dog shortly after he died..so this dog is my everthing.. i have a son and and a granddaughter and a dgthr-in-law..i love my granddghtr to death..but she’s getting older ..iguess ..i love my son but he’s so negative and selfish in so many ways..this story has so much more but i would need to explain in detail to a shrink..i think i’m happy alone but i wonder if i’m not trying to hide from any more pain.. my husband is my 2nd spouse.my son is a result of my 1’st marriage wich i thought would last 4ver until he cheated on me and left my son and me alone.. basically i have just become a hermit.. i do see and spend tine with my grnddghtr and talk to my dghtrinlaw.. but as socialilizing and spending time with my family ..i avoid it. why?
10 September, 2009 at 2:19 pm
Hi! I was surfing and found your blog post… nice! I love your blog.
Cheers! Sandra. R.