“My wife died of breast cancer going on three years ago now. I looked after her for five years without any help off anybody. It was 4mls of morphine every four hours and she had to have chemo. After 5 years the palliative care people turned up and said they weren’t there to look after my wife, they were there to look after me! Myself. After 5 years. So, they bought meals on wheels in for me, but it made me feel bad. Terrible.
After my wife passed away I sat in my lounge room for over 18 months and didn’t even go out anywhere. My brain was telling me I’m not allowed to go out anywhere.
Her name was Dianne. She came from Kurri.
We met at Maitland Town Hall. She was 15 and I was 18. It was a dance.
We got married at Neath church and we had two boys. We had a really good life together.
But she used to get cranky! About anything. She threw a cooked chock at me once. Straight out of the frypan!
So, when she started, I’d walk out.
I’d say, “I’m going to take the dog for a walk in the bush.”
She wouldn’t let me drink at home so I used to hide a half-dozen largies there. So, I’d take the dog for a walk. And by the time I went back home she’d have the fridge pressed behind the back door! She’d lock me out.
But we had a really good life together. Oh, yeah.”