Oh remember when we thought we had forever,
didn't it make you feel secure?
We used to think that we had forever,
now I'm not so sure.
So begins the theme song at the end of the 1976 Likely Lads movie, based on the hit BBC TV comedy series. There's a time in our lives when we feel, without ever really thinking about it, that we're immortal. Time, alas, eventually disabuses us of the notion, and I was reminded of that today when I learned one of my friends, Gerry Whyte, died on the 11th of this month. After 5 years of illness and pain, he learned he had stage 4 cancer throughout his body, and he was earmarked for treatment to see if his tumours could be shrunk by chemotherapy once the NHS could pencil him in for it. Unfortunately, time was not on his side.
For 5 years his doctors had dismissed his illness as being caused by 'really bad piles' - which just goes to show how deficient doctors can sometimes be. Gerry's situation resembles that of my late pal Moonmando - Matt Caldwell - who died back in 2023 of inoperable liver and bowel cancer, initially missed by doctors when he first approached them to see why he was ravaged by pain. They gave him several weeks off work then sent him back when they found no reason for his condition, and when he went back to them not too long after, it was too late to do anything. I'd known Matt for around 50 years, and knew Gerry getting on for 35 years or so.
Gerry, fearing he might not have long, came to visit me around 3 weeks ago and we spent an hour or two chatting about this and that, and nothing in particular. He'd hoped he would see me again, but unfortunately it wasn't to be. We sat in my living-room and then out in my back garden for a while, and when he left he embraced me and kissed me on the cheek, just in case that was the last we saw of each other. I'm not a very tactile person, but I hugged him back, wished him well, and hoped against hope he might come through his ordeal. At least he got to attend his daughter's wedding a month or two before, which I know was important to him.
Anyway, I couldn't let his passing go without mentioning it, even though you Crivvies didn't know him. So here's to Gerry, long may he live on in the hearts and minds of his family and friends. Rest In Peace, old friend - I'll see you again, and I know you'll know what I mean when I say I hope it isn't for a good long while. (It'll pass quick enough, however long it may be.) Oh, and Happy Birthday - you'd have been 62 today (Monday), so I'll buy a wee pineapple tart tomorrow and pretend it's a piece of your birthday cake as I scoff it.
12 comments:
My condolences on your friend's death, Kid - it's appalling how he and Moonmando were let down by bungling doctors.
Thanks, CJ. Appalling indeed. Makes you wonder what they get all that money for. And it's next to impossible to even get a doctor's appointment these days.
I'm so sorry to hear your news Kid. We never got a handbook on how to be married, or how to raise our kids and we certainly were never told how to deal with friends and family going before us, and unfortunately at our age, it's happening more and more. My sympathies chum,
Norman
That is brutal, condolences to you and Gerry's family , 62 is no age at all and all the worse when this should have been caught earlier and given your friend extra years. I'm always in awe of how people dealing with terminal illness show such dignity and strength in spending time to say goodbye to friends.
Thanks, NB. It'll take some time to get used to the fact that he's no longer a 'phone call or text away, but it's even worse for his family as they were a very close one. I'm not a demonstrably emotional person at times like this, I just tend to feel kind of numb at the news of his passing.
I don't know how, but I guess he must've somehow reconciled himself to his fate, McS. If it had been me, I wouldn't have been so seemingly accepting of it as he appeared. Which is not to suggest that he was in any way complacent about it, but I assume he was resigned to the inevitable. Such a shame he's gone.
Sorry to hear your sad news, Kid. I usually have a walk down to some local shops at lunchtime (I work from home since my employer closed our office during COVID). One of the roads I walk down, I noticed an old chap sitting in his porch every day. Over time, I started waving to him and he waved back. This went on over the past four years then one day he just stopped appearing. I feared the worst and last week I saw a lady getting out of the car on the driveway and I enquired about the guy. It turns out he had passed away from lung cancer aged 91 and she was his daughter. I said I hoped my waving brightened his day a bit and she said "Oh yes, he used to think he was a celebrity waving to people." Funny thing is, I didn't know him but I'll miss waving to him. Not everyone is sociable these days.
Very sad news. Losing parents, pets, and good friends is never easy, condolences. He'll be laughing after you devoured that cake in his memory.
Thanks, M. Take a look at my post 'TV21 Annual Cover Gallery...' for almost the duplicate of your story. I didn't know the old man in my tale either.
I enjoyed it so much I scoffed another one later, AAW - and wished him Happy Birthday each time.
Wow I read your post from 2018, Kid. That's incredible, our stories are identical and a lot of the things you mentioned rang true with me. Once or twice, lost in thought, I walked past without looking or waving and felt guilty when I realised, so made sure I waved on the way back. I didn't think he was lonely because I knew other people lived there, I think he just preferred to sit in the porch. His daughter told me he didn't like TV, so would sit in the porch. He had a heater in the winter but I used to think it must be hell in the summer as the porch door was always closed but the front door was open. I wanted to ask the daughter his name but I didn't want to intrude. We did have quite a chat though and I told her about my Mom and how she hopes to move this year.
Here's to Gerry, Matt and the chap in the porch and to people like you and me, Kid who sometimes think about others instead of themselves.
It's hard to believe he died around 7 years back, M, as it seems nowhere near as long as that - yet it's longer than I've lived in any of my childhood homes. It's been a while since I've taken that route, but I know I won't be able to do so without taking a look at the door of his bungalow the next time I pass. As for me, I do sometimes think of others, though unfortunately it's not as often as I should.
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