In Memory of Brian Leslie Callaway 2nd December 1946 - 24th July 2002 R.I.P

In memory of …….

A killer lying in wait, watching your every move, waiting for the right time to attack, catching you when you least expect it. It has been dormant for so long you think it must have missed you, you hope if never catches up with you. You don’t realise that it’s caught you until you have a niggling pain that won’t go away, and then you know you’ve been caught and from this killer there is no escape.

It doesn’t care who is takes, or whom it hurts or what happens to those left behind. Man made this killer and it lies in wait; man’s stupidity has caused pain and agony to thousands of people, tears, anger and frustration that know no bounds.

There is no cure, there is no hope, and man has helped to destroy many men. It’s not genetic, it’s not hereditary but it affects generations forever. Hardworking young men, innocently continuing their daily work routines, builders, labourers, electricians, apprentices of all trades exposed to a harmless looking material, chatting and laughing whilst breathing in the deadly spoors that wil llie in their lungs for twenty to thirty years.

Men in their fifties have their lives cut short; they can no longer laugh, run around or play with their grandchildren; they lie in a withered shell that was once a body, now resembling nothing but a skeletal figure, desperate for help or an end to their pain.

It takes strong, caring, dependable men turning them into angry, bitter souls that know they will never return to their former self. They have to see the pain in other people’s eyes, those watching them waste away, and those they will soon be leaving behind.

It may start with a cough, a pain in the back that won’t go away, a trip to the Drs with unexplained results. Feelings of frustration as nothing you are prescribed makes you feel any better. You can’t catch your breath, an x-ray may show a broken rib, it’s unexplained, there’s been no fall, no accident and then you know. At that moment you know your life is never going to be the same again; this is when questions form, your disbelief appears and then your tears fall so shockingly you want to run and hide.

You have a wife, children, grandchildren, parents, how can you tell them all, how will you cope with their feelings as well as your own? Then you realise that deep down you knew that one day this would happen; the day the cough started the thought flew into your mind but you had tried to ignore it and it flew straight back out again.

Walking through the front door, trying to avoid the expectant look on your wife’s face, knowing she is desperate for you to tell her that you are going to be fine. How can you tell her she is going to be alone so much quicker than either of you ever imagined?

You hold her, breaking it as gently as you can, wiping her tears and consoling her, being strong for her. Your heart is breaking as you explain that you will never recover from this but will do all you can to delay the final moment for as long as possible.

The first step over with, giving you the courage to pick up the telephone to tell your children. Hearing their voices, relaxed and happy, totally unaware of what you have to say. The children that you have helped give strength and courage to over the years, who you have supported through thick and thin, who you would do anything to protect. The children who have given you the grandchildren that you now show the same, if not more, love and devotion to. You know that you will never see them grow up that they you will not be there to see all the steps that they go through in the future. The deadly silence you receive, the unacceptance of the news you have given them, then again being strong and reassuring them you will do all you can.

Then to your parents, who brought you up to be kind, honest, respectful and reliable, you know in your heart your life has made them proud. You have helped them through sickness, ensuring they get back to good health quickly, but you know they they will never be able to do the same for you. How does a parent cope with knowing they are going to live longer then their child? How do they watch their own child be buried? It suddently hits you how horrible life is, knowing what it would do to lose your own children.

Your sister looks at you with sorrow and as you tell the rest of your family and friends they watch with eagerness for any progress that may happen when appointments follow appointment, stress and pain, knowing you are only avoiding the inevitable but trying to slow this killer down.

You suddenly realise that you have so much more you want to do with your life, holidays and adventures, retirement plans brought forward. You spend all your spare time with your friends and family, trying to make life seem as normal as possible. Your need for life and your determination to carry on stops you from wallowing in self-pity, you put all your energy into enjoying every day because you don’t know when this killer will succeed in this attempts.

Then it takes hold so forcefully it shocks everybody who knows you. Mesothelioma, an incurable cancer, caused by breathing in Asbestos. The smallest of spoors causes the biggest destruction in a person’s life. It destroys the lives of those who wash, feed, turn and carry those men who once were so strong. Grown men, weakened and crying like babies with the pain, and for those that they are leaving behind.

Mesothelioma took a son, a husband, a grandfather and my father. These are his feelings and his thoughts, they were written on his face and I saw them every day and I will remember them all my life.

I hope that his story reaches your heart and that if there is anyone in your life suffering they know that they have the love and support from you and everyone around them to make their time, no matter how short full of memories that you can treasure.

Brian Leslie Callaway 2nd December 1946 - 24th July 2002 R.I.P

Page Last Modified On: 11th September 2008