There's Something I've Been Dying to Tell You Page 22

  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 sente
nce 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.

  My decision to stop the chemo is personal and probably the only thing I have left to myself. I know you boys will be upset and probably go through a cross period with me, but you have to respect my needs. I know you do.

  I know you will both feel very abandoned and I can’t help you through that, but one thing I can assure you is that Michael loves you both very much and he will need you as much as anybody because you are his link to me. We are all very different people and will not always see eye to eye – that much we know already – but what I can see from a distance is a group of men who have one thing in common, and it makes you listen to the others, and it makes you realise you are not the only person on the planet and there are other ways of living life. Sometimes the road we choose changes dramatically and we have to adapt pretty sharpish or we get lost. That is what I am trying to give you, I suppose, a view of life – and in this case, death – that you can adapt. You are both so amazing and, believe me, you are very strong.

  When the moment comes to say goodbye let’s just hold hands and love each other, as we surely do.

  Letter to stepson

  Hello Stepson,

  I always smile when I say that because people must think how strange to call you in such a cold and removed way. But if you remember we had a laugh about it once when I was texting you about coming home for dinner and we laughed that a girlfriend might see the text and think I was another woman! So I became the Evil Stepmother. I have known you a small part of your life but a very important few years. You were nineteen when you arrived off that plane looking like a Beverly Hillbilly! I remember whispering to Michael, ‘Oh my God, is that him?’

  You have changed so much, Brad, and for the better in every way. You have helped me understand my two. I have been much tougher on you than I ever was with Michael and Robbie. It is easier in a way because I am not your mother, or sister, or whatever. I met you as a person in your own right and had to get to know you. With our own children we just assume a knowledge of them as they are growing up. This is completely wrong, of course, and I realise as I write this that I am writing to a young man I have come to know and love.

  It has been difficult for you, I know, to come here and live a completely different life, but you have coped brilliantly. I hope that your mum will understand that in no way does this lessen her place in your life, that will always be sacred, and I hope that through our relationship you have learned more about your mum and maybe even your dad and what they went through.

  I also need to say that I cannot include your sister Stacey in much of what we talk about because I don’t know her as well. But again, I think you will be able to help her, Brad, in ways that no one expects of you, because you have seen so many different sides of life that you might never have done if you had just stayed in America. Well, that is a definite – you know what I feel about Americans in general, or rather Middle America where the sun don’t shine!

  Stacey needs to stand on her own two feet, which is bloody tough I know, but you can help her. She will probably hate me for saying this, but Stacey, I have learned so much from being surrounded by all these men. Your boys need more than just their father now. They need granddads and uncles to give them a balanced view of what being male is all about. When I split up from Michael and Robbie’s dad, they had no one male to turn to. My father was not well, and anyway they had been put off their grandparents by my ex because I think he felt threatened by them. Brad is your bridge, if you like, to other paths in life and this is what I keep banging on about, because it is so important to learn as much as we can about how life works.

  Brad, you have been amazing these past couple of years and you will reap the benefits for the rest of your life. I admire your ambition and desire for the good things in life, just don’t forget to feed your soul.

  D.H. Lawrence said, ‘Money poisons you when you’ve got it, and starves you when you haven’t.’

  Get out there and reach for the stars; you can do it but never settle for second best.

  Just one more thing . . . Please look after your dad. He will need you very much and don’t argue with him, just agree and say, ‘Yes, Daddy knows best’ and he will be as happy as a Somerset hog in s—!

  To Michael

  Remember:

  That morning in Spain,

  The full English going down a storm.

  ‘You want a mortgage?

  Not a problem Miss B.’

  Already an intimacy,

  A connection with a like soul.

  Watching me in your car mirror, your flash hairdresser’s car!

  Sussing me out, weighing me up.

  Remember:

  A day of laughter and sunshine,

  And way too much wine,

  Then goodbye and thanks and back to London for me,

  You returned to the bar for another glass of Riscali.

  Then texts and phone calls,

  An invitation from me,

  To dinner, anytime.

  ‘Your daughter is with you?’

  Oh damn . . . How lovely!

  ‘Bring her as well,

  Not a problem at all.’

  Remember:

  Instant contact, electricity and passion,

  Certainly lust and possibly need?

  Reaching out for affection, while grappling to find

  That still small voice that says

  What?

  Ah now we have it

  A sentence so simple

  So hard to define

  To learn to trust once again

  To step over that line.

  Remember:

  Then came death to our beginnings

  Losing my parents in one month

  I quickly found you

  The centre, the nub of it all

  My rock, my knight, my lover.

  You made me wake up and grab the life

  That was offered, so real and so different

  From the sham I was living.

  So alone and so lonely

  Just me and my boys.

  Thank God for my boys.

  Could you breach that wall of motherly love?

  Not easily, but you did.

  Remember:

  Truth and lies?

  People trying to crush us with their cynical mediocrity

  Their sad distorted negativity.

  ‘Not a problem,’ you’d say

  ‘Not a problem at all.’

  You can do anything

  Heal a wound or burst a boil

  Life does not scare you

  Not nothing at all.

  But death does, doesn’t it, my lover?

  Death is unfair and cruel

  Not in your remit at all.

  Remember:

  How we talked of our life together

  When all our chores had been done

  Twenty years, fifteen at least

  To open our box of ten years together

  Yes short but oh so sweet.

  Don’t give up now, my lover.

  Do some of the things we promised we would do

  Please guard the door and the lid to our trinkets

  Our box of ‘reme
mbers’.

  Remember:

  You always aim for the best

  We have had it and you will keep alive, though I’m dead.

  It’s only a word so say it, spit it out

  Toss it away in the wind

  Think only of good things and now this is it

  I have come to the point, round and round I go

  They are almost unspeakable

  So precious have they grown

  As always I tell you

  In my own way

  I love you Michael Pattemore

  There’s nothing more I can say.

  Christmas 2011. This was the last Christmas we all had together before I started doing Panto and it is the kind of Christmas I had wanted in 2013 but I suffered a perforated colon which saw me in hospital instead. I can now only hope we will have a big get together like this again this coming Christmas, fingers crossed.

  Flying in as the Fairy Godmother. 'Where's the bar?'

  In my birthday suit on our wedding anniversary and my birthday.

  Michael and me in Paradise in Pangkor Laut on the East coast.

  'Yes that's right, Michael, you are King for a day!', in a procession in Tangjong Jara.

  Both of these pictures were taken by Julie Phelan from Littlewoods/Very. She was brilliant to work with on the Isme campaign and I think both of these photos are fantastic. The fairy godmother picture was from an advert I did for Isme and Michael and I decided to use it as our Christmas card for 2012. Then Julie came to visit me during a chemo session and took the photo of me in the cold cap which is what you wear to stop hair loss during treatment. I love these two photos because the contrast echoes the Isme campaign's catch phrase I used 'This is me.'