ABSTRACT
Although I treated patients with almost every variety of cancer for over thirty years, and instituted and ran a training course entitled “Caring for the Bereaved and the Dying”, under the auspices of the British Postgraduate Medical Federation, my first experience of the treatment of lymphoma was when my wife developed the illness, albeit after many misdiagnoses. The prognosis was ten years, confirmed almost to the day, and the whole period was miserable, with the last three years of her life ending, dramatically, in a chaotic travesty of medical care. Her death from massive septicaemia was mercifully quiet and unsuspecting. She died peacefully in her sleep.
