and again everything is different, and again everything is new

Trigger warning: Text deals with potentially fatal diseases, death, negative thoughts and depression.

I sat here a year ago and set up this blog and wrote a text. Back then, the year began full of optimism and anticipation. This time, it began with sadness and an emptiness that I’m trying to come to terms with. And I want to fill it over time with things that do me good and stabilize me again. Maybe one of these things is writing a blog – we’ll see.

On November 23, 2023, an intense period of my life came to an end with the death of my partner. We had met by chance at the beginning of 2020 and despite the 400-kilometer distance and the pandemic, we found each other. The following year, we decided to start planning to move in together. And just by the way, within 4 weeks I received an exemption from my employer to be able to work from home permanently and within another 4 weeks we had found a great and affordable apartment in Bonn, while due to the flood in the Ahr valley it felt like every second person here was looking for accommodation for an affected friend or acquaintance. Living together went well, my partner was able to work part-time in an online editorial office (writing was one of her passions) and I was also able to work well from my home office, even a cat was allowed to move in with us. In August 2022, she was diagnosed with breast cancer – triple negative, fast-growing but detected early. Chemotherapy and immunotherapy followed. They had side effects, but they helped. We got through it quite well together and all our friends helped. The tumor got smaller and smaller, at some point it was no longer visually detectable. The final operation was scheduled for February.

A week before the operation, she had her first neurological failure – numbness, difficulty finding speech. Perhaps the excitement. A few days later again. One day before the operation, already in the local hotel, she was picked up by the emergency doctor and metastases were found in her brain. How do you deal with being told you are terminally ill and that you still have a few months, maybe a few years? My partner’s answer was: “Fight to get well again”. I supported her as much as I could. And her family was also incredibly helpful.

The new chemotherapies, directly into the cerebrospinal fluid and also systemically, helped… until they no longer helped. Her condition got progressively worse, but she always remained optimistic and combative. Getting work, housework and supporting my partner done left little room for things that were good for me and could recharge my batteries. Perhaps I didn’t give myself enough credit during this time because my expectations were unrealistic. I ran out of energy in October. I suffered from panic attacks and depressive episodes and was no longer able to work. I will probably never forget my last two visits to the hospital with my partner. On the penultimate visit, I could see that she had also realized that the new chemo wasn’t going to help, but that everything was derailing and wasn’t going to get better. When I think about it now, tears well up in my eyes again… On her last visit, she was lying sedated in the intensive care unit and I said goodbye to her.

I promised her I would take good care of the cat and myself.

And another new start is on the cards. I’m dragging a lot of weight behind me, which I have to shake off bit by bit. This time I’m already in my mid-40s. When I google “restart in your mid-40s”, I read that the happiness curve rises again in your mid-40s. That sounds promising.