I'll try and be brief...
4 years ago my uncle (then 38) was diagnosed with a brain tumour, alot of cancer can be cured now, this tumour however turned out to be one of the most aggressive types of brain tumour and he was given 10 years max to live.
2 Years ago he had a scan and his life expectancy was cut down to two years.
Obviously we were all mortified but he seemed to be doing ok, he was out and about, went on a few holidays etc...
Last August however his 2 years were officially "up" and he was, from then on, living on "borrowed time".
Just before christmas he took a turn for the worst and was sent into hospital suffering from various problems...whilst in hospital he collapsed (suspected stroke) and lost the feeling in his right side, leg and arm. From here on he was bed ridden.
Over christmas he came home, he would seem to improve one minute and then go back down again the next...he never really got over it but gave it his best shot, he had a laugh and joke with everyone etc...the family managed to get him his own bungalow near his mum (my grandmother) and family meaning someone was always with him 24/7 but he had a "Kind of" independance in the shape of his own home...he loved the bungalow.
Anyway, last week he was taken into hospital with a chest infection, due to the chemo he was on it rapidly turned into pneumonia and his health went down hill quickly, I went to see him 2 weeks ago, he was unwell but still having a laugh, talking about his trip to New York etc and the time he was asked to sell his wife in Egypt!
Yesterday I recieved a phonecall from my mum, he was very poorly, heavy breathing, in pain etc but they were still talking about "when he gets better..."
Today I recieved a phonecall from my distraught mum, he'd died. Aged 42.
I held it together whilst on the phone, cried when she'd hung up, settled down again...
A few hours later she phoned me back and told me ALL the details of his death, how he cried in agony, how he was so scared he soiled himself, how he knew he was dying and he was petrified, as he struggled with his last breath....I lost it this time and cried, since this I can't stop thinking about him dying in agony, my poor grandparents holding their sons hand as he passed away crying, the comment my mum told me about which was said as he lie there dead "goodbye love, we'll see you soon..."
It's so unfair why him? I feel so powerless, how can he be laughing with me one minute and dying in agony the next? why?
And now I keep thinking about some photo's I promised him that I never actually took him as I kept forgetting, how bad is that?
I still have a birthday card to my son from him on my mantel piece...that's how sudden it was.
Sorry for the whinge, we knew he would die, we knew it would be soon but it doesn't make it any easier, fairer etc... my other uncle gave him a shave after he'd left us before the undertaker got there I just feel so sad.