There's Something I've Been Dying to Tell You (28 page)

We had a lovely lunch yesterday with my eldest son and Sacha, and my sister came and my friend Pat too. I had cooked a whole salmon and made chocolate mousse for pud. I actually put some make-up on so my son Michael could have a nice photo of me and Sacha. We made a plan to go to Legoland sometime soon and I went to bed full of hope.

Then I woke at three and the darkness took over and I got so frightened. I don’t want to leave my husband Michael, because I know he is going to be so lonely. I know Brad and Stacey will rally round, and I hope my two do as well. But he can be a cantankerous old bugger at times, and I don’t want him to put everybody off! Then there is my sister, who has had so much sadness in her life the last ten years, and now I am going to leave her too. Mind you, that could be a relief for her, no more running round finding me plastic jugs and taking me to cake shops. My sweet tooth has really taken over lately, and Jean and I find amazing purveyors of cakes to feed our habit.

The one thing Jean and I do keep putting off is going through my jewellery. Don’t get me wrong, there is hardly a hidden treasure trove of diamonds, but I do like things to go to the right people, and there are things in my trinket box that have certain people’s names on them, whether they are valuable or not. I also think it is a job, just like going through a loved one’s clothes, that can be so distressing for the person left behind, so if I can make things easier for everyone then I will. I am always having clear-outs now – it is a great way of assuaging any guilt one might have about buying something new if you can give away something else to a friend in the meantime.

Mind you, I have to psyche myself up to go into one of those second-hand shops because I sometimes just want to hit the saleswomen in there. The snobbery is unbelievable in some of these establishments. I suppose I live in one of the worst areas, being Hampstead and Highgate, but honestly it makes me so mad. The shops are often full of disgusting designer garb to start with, like the worst indulgences of Roberto Cavalli on speed, and they have the gall to turn their noses up at a brand-new evening dress I bought in John Lewis, a brand new, size twelve, black dress.

‘Sorry, Madam, just not for us, I am afraid, and really a size too large,’ simpered the woman in a bright yellow dress which clung to her fat bits! I am sorry to be so mean but really people should take a reality check sometimes. Still, it is good to have these things in hand while I am able to do them myself.

Then there are the boys. My beautiful boys who give me grief but also so much joy. I have told them that I do really believe that they will benefit from my death in ways they will not recognise until later in life. I will leave them my energy, which is why I don’t want to hang about once everything kicks in and starts to fall apart. I want them to remember me as I was at my best: fighting, laughing, crying and being theatrical maybe, but that is part of me.

Looking at the photos of my real father I realise I was right to feel there had to be an emotional connection somewhere with my birth family, but I had taken the wrong path originally. It was the male side that was calling me, and interestingly my whole life, looking back now, has been surrounded by men! Yes, I was adopted by a family of girls but I then gave birth to boys and joined the land of lads. My birth mother, Marjorie, on the other hand, is the sensible side but also the weak side, in that she did not find herself either but instead lived a lie and let other people tell her what to do. I forgive her but not the rest of that family.

I just want my children to find themselves and take the good with the bad. I am frustrated because I think I still have a great deal to discover about myself, and my family, and I do feel cheated. I really know nothing about my birth family at all apart from some ‘interesting’ facts. My aunt committing suicide brings back my own terrible loneliness in 1976 when my first marriage broke down. I had no work and a mortgage to pay, and the man I had loved thought I was worthless. The thin thread in my heart is there though now, and I understand Luella and her suicide. I do believe it is a very selfish act though and I would never have done it to my sons.

I feel differently when it comes to my beloved Mum and Dad Bellingham. The thing that really sticks out is that I loved them as people, just as much as I did as parents, and I don’t think many people can honestly say that.

And then we come back to my relationship with my boys. Do we ever know our children? Since dealing with my cancer, Robert often comes up and gives me this quiet intense hug, and just looks at me. It is as if he is trying to memorise my face for when I am gone. My elder son, Michael, who is much more extrovert, does it with phone calls, and when he comes to visit he is all bonhomie – but now there is a sadness and a small panic in his eyes, and I know he is thinking about life without me. That is not a bad thing for him to learn because he is that sort of man. I want him to find a woman who will really ‘look after him’. He needs that security and she will benefit. If he is happy and secure he will be a wonderful husband. That much I do know.

I am lucky to have found Niki Pittman, my second cousin in Missouri, and I think it is great for the boys to have another family line to follow. They certainly are a mixture: Italian father, half-American and half-Canadian mother, with a strong British influence from my wonderful adopted Mum and Dad, Don and Ruth Bellingham. They really do make the case for nurture over nature any day of the week. It is because of the legacy of my dear family Bellingham that I shall continue to fight on and try whatever comes along to keep me here as long as possible to see the fruits of my labours, because of them that I have two strong and successful and deep-down lovable sons.

Sadly, we discovered I am not suitable for the test drugs they wanted to put me on, but I went to see a very interesting man called Erdal Mehmet who introduced me to a PMF machine, which has something to do with magnets and breaking up the blood cells in my body. I did try the magnets for a month, and I had hoped that when I went to the clinic again I would see my markers had gone down, but sadly I don’t think I am going to be here long enough for them to take hold. I do recommend anyone in the early stage of cancer to go and talk to him.

I am not negative at all and I enjoy every day I wake up. It has been an especially uplifting month because the weather has been so wonderful. I know most people are not sleeping at night because of the heat but one of the upsides for me has been my pins and needles and poor circulation, which has resulted in my feeling cold! How good is that?

13 August 2014

Yesterday was the glorious 12th. The grouse season began dear? Oh you don’t do game, what a shame.

What a load of b—! But most appropriate in my case. The glorious 12th will be remembered in our diary because it was the day I decided when I will die.

I am very dramatic, aren’t I? I know it is not ultimately my decision but it is my last vestige of control of myself to sit in front of the oncologist and say when I would like to stop having chemo and let the natural way do its thing.

It has been a rather fast deterioration over the last couple of weeks and bizarrely it has been the desire to finish this book that has both spurred me on and finished me off! I am on such strong chemo now that my body is finally protesting. I have ulcers all over the inside of my mouth. I have them in my throat too so my voice is going, which I find especially hard because my voice has been my trademark. I recently went to see a psychic and he was wonderful and told me I would go when I was ready and when I had finished all the jobs I had to do. He was saying I had much longer, but I think he was trying to make that so, bless him. I have been to readings a couple of times and they have always been incredibly enlightening.

Because I was in such pain and discomfort I decided to go into the clinic and get some help with the symptoms. This is something I have not done all year because I wanted to deal with things by myself. But now the cancer – or rather the chemo – was getting to me. That morning as I was waiting for Michael to go to the clinic a catalogue dropped through the letter box. Now here’s a test. To order, or not to order? Would it be a waste of money to get a handbag or a pair of boots? It’s a problem don’t you think? You don’t think about all these little moments until they are upon you and your life is on the way out. Well I grappled with the problem for a nanosecond and ordered a handbag and a jacket. Well for goodness sake, chaps, I was hardly wasting the family fortune, and I knew that when the doorbell rang a few days later it would bring me such joy it was worth the guilt.

So I went to get some pills from my regular doctor, Dr di Cesare, who is so kind and helpful. I was telling him about my book and what did he think about my options, and how long did he think I had got left? Sometimes I really cannot believe I am stage four and terminal.

His response was much like everyone else’s. I could go on for months. No one knows. That is my problem. No one knows.

Except I do now. I sat down with Michael, Professor Stebbing and Ani and announced: ‘The time has come to cease and desist. I would love to make one more Christmas, if possible, but I want to stop taking chemo around November in order to pass away by the end of January.’ Of course things may not pan out as I have decided now but it was such a relief to say the words.

Please don’t think I am giving up for the sake of a few ulcers, it is the fact that my body has started to rot and I promised myself that as soon as that happened I would make a plan. I want my family to remember me whole. I want you all to remember me!

How embarrassing it would be if I do go on for years. Can you imagine the abuse I would get on Twitter? That Lynda Bellingham conned us into thinking she was dying so we would buy her book! Mind you, the positive side of staying alive – apart from the fact I would be alive – is there could be a third book in the Lynda Bellingham Trilogy entitled:

Hang on! There’s something I forgot to mention . . .

Epilogue

LETTERS TO MY LOVED ONES

When I wrote my letter to my father for this book, I unlocked something within and I realised it would help me, and my family, to do the same for the rest of the men in my life now. And so I set about writing these letters to my sons, stepson and dear husband Michael.

Letter to the boys

Dear Michael and Robbie,

Michael, there is a photo of you as a baby and I seem to be presenting you to the world and you are responding beautifully, like the actor you are, with a big beaming smile. We both look very sparkly if you can understand my meaning. Then there is a photo of me and you, Robbie, when you were a baby at a very similar age, five years later, and here I am again trying to present my new son, but this time you are having none of it, Rob. You are gazing into the camera slightly miffed and a bit uncertain of what is required of you, and I am looking unsure of my ability to make you feel secure, and I look sad and actually that is exactly how it was in 1988.

I am not going to go back over wasted years but I guess they have to be taken into the equation of where you both are today. I take responsibility for giving you a fractured life. Well, I take some of the responsibility, but I also take the pride and joy I get from your existence and how you have turned out. You are both so different yet from the same mould. I love you both so much it hurts. I think it is hard for men to understand how emotion works in women, because as far as I can make out men are so much more uncomplicated, simple, and I don’t mean that in a derogatory way at all. Men need very little to make them happy whereas women need to pick and unpick and put back together again.

I wish I had been tougher with you both about the obvious stuff in life, but I really thought you were both clever enough to see what had to be done. If you didn’t do your homework you would fail exams, if you didn’t tell the truth we would push each other away, if you do bad things they will come back to haunt you.

Somehow you have both managed to reach a point where this has all become clear to you, and now you can move forward and make great lives for yourselves. The terrible truth is I will not be there to enjoy those moments. I am so sorry, but if you have a little spirituality in you, believe I will be watching.

When my dad and mum died so soon after each other I felt like an orphan but I did have you both to look after. Michael, you have Sacha and he really does need you. I know it is so tough to deal with him and you have no nice added extras like a lovely home or money to take him places, but they will come. Have faith in yourself. Hopefully I have taught you to aspire to the good things in life and that isn’t just about money, it is what is in your soul. Please listen to your brother – he is a wise guy behind that quizzical regard.

Robbie, you have Michael to look after. I know that is not what you want to hear and nor does Michael! But it is the truth, for the time being anyway. Open your heart to Michael, Robbie, he is not like you. He is a bit theatrical and self-obsessed but that is what actors are like! However, he is also part of me and I hope my legacy will teach him to reach out to others, forget himself and listen to what others have to say. I mean really listen, Michael, not keep quiet as you plan your next sentence or tirade while they are speaking. Do I seem harsh? Maybe, but it is only because I love you both so much and if I thought you were not going to help each other through this I would die. Ha ha!

When I was writing this I got a call from you, Michael, and it was so insightful and perceptive of you. You knew something was wrong and you were fearful and had to ring to check up. The interesting thing was that Michael (Hubbie) and I had discussed on the way home from the clinic whether to tell you and Robbie our thoughts following my appointment or leave you in blissful ignorance until Christmas. You solved that problem for me the moment you rang, because that is how we work as a family. Michael Pattemore finds that hard, I think, and keeps things close to his chest. But he has to understand we work differently and I am glad it is all out in the open, because then there is no strain on me to watch what I say or do.