Cancer 246

Well, that was an experience. I have some advice for those of you who have a terminal diagnosis of one sort or another, don’t wit until you are dead to have a wake, especially if you have a wonderful set of friends. I don’t really know where the idea ame from. It was originally going to be a few people have dinner together, then 36 people turned up for the meal, but we had not decided to do anything special, so we decided to arrange it properly.

I have good friends. I am not going to mention anyone by name, partly because I am likely to miss someone out and upset them, but you people who did so much, you know who you are. I understand many people would like to be at their own funeral, partly because it is the one place where everyone is nice about the person, telling positive stories, and generally laughing with the dead person. Dead person? No. Don’t wait. Organise your own wake or, as in my case, get your friends to organise it. Some people thought it a little odd to run the wake while I was still alive, and I think it took until the wake itself for them to realise what a positive idea it is.

My involvement in the organisation was to determine who to invite. Given I was the only one who knew everyone that makes sense, and now there is a list available for the real funeral. The wife just thought it was a strange idea and didn’t want to be involved. OK, not so much a strange idea but another way of accessing death-related emotions and so unnecessary. Other friends (and relations) picked it up and ran with it.

We had a three hour event in the local parish hall. It started with me giving a short speech, made all the more difficult by the bloody tumours pushing up against my lungs and stopping me accessing my golden voice, where I thanked everyone for coming, and took the liberty of thanking the wife for everything she has done for me. Yes Sue, that is you. And finally a little philosophy of the type that gets me through cancer and dying. That was enough from me. We then had our village singer with a rendition of Yesterday – apt really – followed by an auction. We took the liberty of telling people to bring cash if they could as we thought to try and raise money for Cancer Research. That worked quite well. At the same time there was a raffle running to raise further cash. then there was a short quiz about me, followed by the butcher arriving with pies, peas and gravy. After this, the last hour belonged to the village band, all members of breakfast club, who sand a good range of songs (OK, mostly my punky stuff) and – as an amazing bonus for me – several gave talks about aspects of me which brough tears to my eyes. That sounds a little egotistical, but it was a wake for me!

The attendees came from all sorts of backgrounds. There were people there who knew me when I had hair (I lost it in 1991), several ex-PhD students, one of whom expressed how I was lucky to have such a community and now they understood how I tried to create one for my students at university. There were colleagues from work, friends from all sorts of places, relations, one or two people I didn’t know well but who were invited anyway, and a few people who invited themselves. There were some older people, some children, and others of diverse ages. There were psychologists, oncologists, chocolate makers, music makers and surveyors, schoolchildren, workers and pensioners, There were horse riders, potters and electronic engineers, veterinary nurses, welders and a GP. A range of professions, in fact, not a bad selection for a desert island.

The only thing they had in common was knowing me. Together the auction and raffle raised around £1500 – I haven’t counted it properly yet – which I think isn’t bad as the event was not about collecting money.

At the end as they left everyone was very positive. Some had originally thought the idea of a living wake was a strange idea, but I think most now want one. I will put some pictures on Facebook.

Thank you again, everyone, you made my day. You have given me strength to continue the fight. I sometimes think you do not know what you do. Just by being there you help me continue.