How I found my way after losing my husband to a shock cancer diagnosis
The Oscar Wilde reference is relevant because that play was a critical part of my recovery: I threw myself into the part of Lady B in a production at the Oxford Playhouse following a life-changing course of events.
In the summer of 2023, I had been preparing for what was to come – the life after the empty nest, the life after 25 years of marriage. Then my husband, Brian, felt unwell and went to the GP. Blood tests revealed something was wrong, and at the Day Assessment Unit of our local hospital, he was told that he had cancer which had spread to his liver.
Within a matter of days and a blurry reckoning of our past, present and future, we knew that in the nomenclature of cancer diagnoses, he had the one you absolutely do not want: small cell carcinoma. His prognosis was a year at best.
We reeled in shock – our youngest was still at school, sitting exams. There was a slight delay before treatment could commence, and in that time, the relentless march of this thief of hope and joy took him out.
He was gone on a Saturday morning, just six weeks after his diagnosis. While I raced around our city trying to find him prescription medications for the pain, our eldest sat by his hospital-at-home bed and watched him die. I will never forget that call from my son as I stood in line at the chemist: 'Mum, he's gone. He's dead.' I arrived home to a tableau of hysterical kids around his bed. I took one look at him and knew there was nothing more I could do. The people in the room needed me now.
What followed was what I thought at the time was the right thing to do. I took just one week off from my demanding role as a global publishing director for an international firm before throwing myself into change management and contingency planning while leading the biggest team in the company. It is only when I look back now that I realise I was burning out. Just six weeks after my husband's death, I was attending an overseas crisis meeting.
I had been very close to the owner of the business, and he was wonderful to me for a long time. Something changed. My grief was breaking over me like 'The Great Wave off Kanagawa' and anger and loneliness seeped through. I was confused, sad and angry – and driven. I ended up leaving the business and as a result, I lost the person whom, after my husband, I had entrusted with my deepest fears and vulnerabilities.
I think somewhere back there, I unravelled. I was left with no insurance payout or coverage when my husband died, and the loss of my salary with three kids headed for university was a blow. I had to face facts, and not only the heartbreak of the loss of the job I loved, but also the connectedness I felt in the business. I hit a very low point – and then I stopped.
All I had was within me, and it was my late husband who had told me to go on, to live and to do the things I was good at. I still had that. I reached out in my network and met the wonderful people I am now in a business partnership with, who could see my value and worth.
They offered me the chance to launch and co-own a new publishing company, which we have named River Light Press. The Thames connects our two locations, and light is the thing we turn towards after the darkest night. It is also the Latin meaning of my name, Lucy.
I am now acquiring my first titles for the press. I had felt doors slamming shut in my face at what is an exposing time for many women, but I now feel the warmth and pleasure of others opening up in their place.
I can never move on from Brian, but I will move forward. My new partnership and new venture are giving me hope and purpose.
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The Guardian
6 days ago
- The Guardian
It's winter and respiratory illnesses are everywhere. Will going out underdressed in cold weather make me sick?
It was inevitable that I would, as Oscar Wilde quipped, become like my mother. After decades of being told to 'Put on more clothes! You'll catch a cold!' I now, despite knowing better, insist the same for my daughter. 'Another layer!' I demand of my partner, who begrudgingly bundles up a toddler already as puffy as the Michelin Man. The scientifically literate part of my brain understands that no jacket will shield her from the onslaught of daycare viruses. And yet I cling to the conviction that underdressing or stepping out the door with wet hair in winter must be avoided at all costs. Are the cries about catching one's death just old wives' tales passed down like family heirlooms, or is there a hint of truth in the warnings? 'People get more colds when the weather is cold,' Hassan Vally, an associate professor of epidemiology at Deakin University, says. 'It's a very natural thing for humans to look for patterns,' he says, but points out that correlation is not causation. 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Respiratory illnesses peak in winter in temperate regions, but Vally points out the tropics – where temperatures vary less year-round – don't see the same seasonal spikes. The rainy season in many tropical areas has been linked to greater activity of influenza and RSV – which may seem counterintuitive as ambient humidity is higher then. One hypothesis that may explain both winter epidemics in temperate regions and rainy season outbreaks in the tropics is behavioural: people spend more time indoors to avoid the cold and wet. 'Cooler temperatures certainly encourage people to gather indoors which increases transmission,' Prof Nathan Bartlett of the University of Newcastle says. A cold day keeps us inside for about one to two hours more on average, and rainy weather 30 minutes more, according to one estimate. Though being cold won't necessarily result in catching a cold, there is evidence that chillier temperatures affect immunity, Vally says. 'Not only is there more opportunity to catch a virus, but our immune response is also a bit diminished,' Labzin agrees. 'Cooler, dryer air allows viruses to be transmitted more efficiently and suppresses innate immune defences in the nasal passages – which is where these viruses get in,' Bartlett says. In dry winter weather, the mucus lining our airways – which plays an important role in trapping noxious inhaled substances – becomes thicker, making it more difficult for hair-like cells in the airways to remove trapped particles and pathogens. Less exposure to sunlight – necessary for our skin to produce vitamin D – in the colder months may also have an impact on immunity. 'There is evidence that vitamin D deficiency is a risk factor for increased respiratory infections during winter,' Bartlett says. 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Donna Lu is an assistant news editor at Guardian Australia Antiviral is a fortnightly column that interrogates the evidence behind the health headlines and factchecks popular wellness claims What health trend do you want examined? Your contact details are helpful so we can contact you for more information. They will only be seen by the Guardian. Your contact details are helpful so we can contact you for more information. They will only be seen by the Guardian.
Daily Mail
27-06-2025
- Daily Mail
The Great British cuppa really could be a lifesaver, as scientists find two cups of tea a day could drastically lower your risk of heart failure and stroke - just don't add SUGAR
Britons drink 100million of them every day – and it turns out the Great British cuppa could be a lifesaver. Tea, which Oscar Wilde described as the only simple pleasure left, lowers the risk of heart problems and stroke, according to new research. Up to two cups of unsweetened tea a day reduces the risk by up to 21 per cent. But add sugar or sweeteners and the benefits are lost, say academics. Researchers from Nantong University, China, used data on 177,810 UK adults, with an average age of around 55. Of those, 147,903 were tea drinkers, and 68.2 per cent did not add sugar and sweeteners. All were healthy at the start of the study, but over an average of 12.7 years, 15,003 cases of cardiovascular disease were diagnosed, including 2,679 strokes and 2,908 heart failures, it was reported in the International Journal of Cardiology Cardiovascular Risk and Prevention. Those who drank up to two cups of unsweetened tea a day had a 21 per cent reduced risk of heart failure, a 14 per cent lesser chance of having a stroke and were 7 per cent less likely to be diagnosed with coronary heart disease. No such effects were found for sweetened tea. It is thought an unsweetened cuppa better preserves biologically active compounds, including polyphenols, in the tea, which have antioxidant and anti-inflammatory effects. Both sugars and artificial sweeteners can promote insulin resistance and metabolic dysregulation, which are well-established cardiovascular disease risk factors.
The Independent
06-04-2025
- The Independent
How I found my way after losing my husband to a shock cancer diagnosis
To lose one husband may be regarded as a misfortune; to lose both looks like carelessness. That is, of course, a bad paraphrasing of one of Lady Bracknell's famous lines in The Importance of Being Earnest. But I did lose my husband – to cancer, in the summer of 2023. And then I lost what some people would call my 'work husband' the following year, following a bruising and lonely journey through grief. The Oscar Wilde reference is relevant because that play was a critical part of my recovery: I threw myself into the part of Lady B in a production at the Oxford Playhouse following a life-changing course of events. In the summer of 2023, I had been preparing for what was to come – the life after the empty nest, the life after 25 years of marriage. Then my husband, Brian, felt unwell and went to the GP. Blood tests revealed something was wrong, and at the Day Assessment Unit of our local hospital, he was told that he had cancer which had spread to his liver. Within a matter of days and a blurry reckoning of our past, present and future, we knew that in the nomenclature of cancer diagnoses, he had the one you absolutely do not want: small cell carcinoma. His prognosis was a year at best. We reeled in shock – our youngest was still at school, sitting exams. There was a slight delay before treatment could commence, and in that time, the relentless march of this thief of hope and joy took him out. He was gone on a Saturday morning, just six weeks after his diagnosis. While I raced around our city trying to find him prescription medications for the pain, our eldest sat by his hospital-at-home bed and watched him die. I will never forget that call from my son as I stood in line at the chemist: 'Mum, he's gone. He's dead.' I arrived home to a tableau of hysterical kids around his bed. I took one look at him and knew there was nothing more I could do. The people in the room needed me now. What followed was what I thought at the time was the right thing to do. I took just one week off from my demanding role as a global publishing director for an international firm before throwing myself into change management and contingency planning while leading the biggest team in the company. It is only when I look back now that I realise I was burning out. Just six weeks after my husband's death, I was attending an overseas crisis meeting. I had been very close to the owner of the business, and he was wonderful to me for a long time. Something changed. My grief was breaking over me like 'The Great Wave off Kanagawa' and anger and loneliness seeped through. I was confused, sad and angry – and driven. I ended up leaving the business and as a result, I lost the person whom, after my husband, I had entrusted with my deepest fears and vulnerabilities. I think somewhere back there, I unravelled. I was left with no insurance payout or coverage when my husband died, and the loss of my salary with three kids headed for university was a blow. I had to face facts, and not only the heartbreak of the loss of the job I loved, but also the connectedness I felt in the business. I hit a very low point – and then I stopped. All I had was within me, and it was my late husband who had told me to go on, to live and to do the things I was good at. I still had that. I reached out in my network and met the wonderful people I am now in a business partnership with, who could see my value and worth. They offered me the chance to launch and co-own a new publishing company, which we have named River Light Press. The Thames connects our two locations, and light is the thing we turn towards after the darkest night. It is also the Latin meaning of my name, Lucy. I am now acquiring my first titles for the press. I had felt doors slamming shut in my face at what is an exposing time for many women, but I now feel the warmth and pleasure of others opening up in their place. I can never move on from Brian, but I will move forward. My new partnership and new venture are giving me hope and purpose.
