J

It is with ongoing grief and sadness that I post here that J, my partner, for whom was also a “carer” (part time, I guess), unexpectedly and suddenly passed away at the end of October last year (2018).  It was a natural cause, a cardiac arrest. I have to type this because she was often suicidal, and we always expected her to die by her own hand. I was with her and I believe she was dead by the time I gave her chest compressions and before the paramedics arrived, who then worked on her for nearly an hour.  Over the last few years she suffered more and more from physical and mobility issues.  She had excessive swelling in her legs which would leak from ulcers, very recent care from visiting nurses didn't solve the issue.  I believe her weight gain was more likely to be lymphodema (sp?) across her whole body, plus arthritic knees, it's difficult to for me say the that her obesity was due to diet or lack or “sedantry” lifestyle – I can't reconcile that she used to be anoerexic and bulimic and yet died so overweight (she would hate that I would be sharing this).  I still believe the biggest negative changes were caused by anti-psychotic medication.  Extra pills were given to prompt her thyroid, and an all too late radical change to meds was kept at a slow pace by the psychiatrist.  It's amazing that she hadn't succeeded in killing herself before now, but this is little consolation that she still died at 41.
She was a beautiful person and was buried locally in a touching ceremony.
There's so many other things I might need to share but it's difficult to stay the right side of “appropriate”.  This blog was meant as a protest against poor mental health care, I had an agenda, but mainly it was often, in subtext, about J's struggles and my need for solidarity in alienating, disempowering situations.  After cycles of numbness and acute sadness, I'm finally entering a sort of an angry phase – I step back and I see myself blaming everyone and myself for the narrative which lead to her death.  In the past I have been unable to be completely honest about the difficulties of being a carer, for fear of being unfair or hurting J, but now the wider story may never be told because it overlaps so much with her living relatives and friends.  I've been clumsy with confidentiality (this tumblr/blog overlaps with my other accounts), which means these thoughts might be read be people from J' life to whom they might be taboo.  A relative, helping to clear her flat, decided it was very important to shred her copies of medical notes – I assumed that this was regarding her history and a need to protect the rest of the family from secrets shared with MH professionals, but it's difficult to get a direct response. 

It's horrible and difficult.  I've inherited her cat.  In my own dark moments, it's clear how she kept J alive – even if it was purely “if I go, who will look after her?”.
Sorry that it took me so long to say anything about J's passing – it still feels like she died yesterday (my father also died four weeks later), but I didn't want anyone following this blog (which is mainly a news archive) to think that I was still J's carer, or partner, because she is no longer alive.

In the end, I don’t believe J stood a chance at ever having a normal life, and she certainly did not deserve the suffering, mentally and physically.  It feels horrible to try to sum up this.  I’m not sure why I’m trying.  Thank you for reading,


Stay strong.  It's all about “quality of life” (or something like that).