Jose's Story

Imagine being told you have only two weeks to live - an unimaginable reality that Jose supported his partner Robert through in March. Their story, filled with unexpected strength and raw emotions, is testament to the resilience of the human spirt and the clarity that comes when every moment counts.

José said: “It started with a persistent pain in Rob’s back and shoulders that he couldn’t quite shake, he was feeling more tired and had less energy than usual, but he kept brushing it off, even though I could tell it was really bothering him. I convinced him to see a doctor out of caution, and although he was prescribed medicine for the pain, it didn’t seem to be helping. After a lot of persistence, we ended up at A&E for further scans. At this point, we didn’t know what we were dealing with, but the doctors thought it was likely a case of gallstones. The test results came back quickly, and the news was devastating: an advanced, aggressive form of cancer. The doctor’s voice was calm but firm - Rob had, at most, a couple of weeks to live.

“They left us to let it sink in and that’s when Rob said we needed to get married. We just couldn’t process how we got there. How he went from back pain to stage four cancer. From that point, I knew I had to be the strong one because Rob couldn’t, I tried to wrap my mind around the reality of it, but it felt like it wasn’t real, like it was happening to someone else. It’s like, you have your person, that you’ve been with for over 15 years, that one person that knows what you’re thinking with just one look, and you have all these plans for the future, and it all vanishes in an instant.

“Suddenly, there are all these practical things to handle, making sure everything is in order, calling our family and friends to break the news. But then there were the quieter moments where we just sat together, sometimes in silence, sometimes sharing memories but all with a deep sadness of knowing Rob didn’t have long. Part of me kept saying he’ll pull through and get better, but you know, within a short time there was a sense of acceptance for both of us because there just had to be. There was no point fussing over small things, we knew we had to make every moment count.

“When we were transferred to the Hospice, it felt like everything was going at super speed but at the same time if you had said I was there for months I could believe it! I was a constant presence for him and had to find the strength to be calm and steady, even though it was hard and I hadn’t slept for days. I didn’t try to push Rob to do anything, if he didn’t have an appetite or didn’t feel like talking that was ok and I made sure everyone visiting knew that he didn’t have the energy to be the showman they were probably used to.

“His family travelled from Taunton to be with him and with support from the hospice, they helped us to sort out everything from his will to arranging our wedding. It was incredible to have that support, and it meant I could spend the little time we had left by his side.

“We would just put our house music on in the room and I would help him shower and shave and all that. He’s my boy, I’m not going to make anyone else do it if I can do it myself because he was vulnerable enough, I didn’t want him to be uncomfortable. ‘I’m your partner and that’s what I’m here for’ I would tell him. I wouldn’t have had it any other way. Our wedding was so special because it was casual just how we’d always imagined. We wore Hawaiian shirts, and it was just close family, the Hospice chaplain was fantastic and did a shortened service so that Rob didn’t get too tired. It was just a lovely day, one of the best of my life, and our family and the care team around him made it perfect for us.

“Rob began to deteriorate so fast, and he didn’t have energy from being surrounded by so many people. Everyone wanted to be part of his last days, but it was a lot for him. We were allowed to bring our cats in to visit and that made him so happy, there were ups and downs, but I could see him fading away. The doctors prepared me that he would become less responsive and may become agitated or confused not knowing where he was.

“I called Rob’s mum and said I think you need to come now. When they arrived, I said I just needed a couple of hours to sleep because I knew he was coming to the end and I needed some kind of energy to get through. Looking back now I don’t know how I was functioning, the pain and exhaustion was so much.

“When I woke up Rob’s family was in the living room and the nurses were in with Rob, when I got to the room the nurse was by the door and she asked me to wait in the living room. Part of me knew something was not right because this was the first time I hadn’t had access to Rob when I wanted, I’d always just been there, the whole journey. I sat down and straight away they came out and let me know Rob had died.

“The worst thing was I felt relief because he couldn’t go on much longer like that. He had been so strong but to watch it was so hard. This was in March, and I realise now I don’t think I fully processed it, I went back to work after a month and it wasn’t until I joined a support group at the Hospice that the grieving process really began. I lost the love of my life, everything I knew, and all of my comforts changed overnight. I’m still adapting to the changes and emotionally it’s been devastating trying to accept that I’ll never see him again. I can’t put into words what having the support of St Columba’s did for me, just knowing I have that and being able to talk to others with similar experiences is helping me pick up the pieces, day by day.”

This is the unimaginable reality that José and his partner of 15 years Robert faced in March. Their story, filled with unexpected strength and raw emotions, is testament to the resilience of the human spirt and the clarity that comes when every moment counts.