Bob was my friend. We played music together. I went to Bob's funeral some weeks ago, he was only fifty-three and he died of cancer. It swooped down on him and seems to have passed in a blur. Life really is so short! It still seems unreal to me but was a terrible thing to see happening.

 Bob was a big man being over six feet tall but was very overweight at over 26 stones. I'd only known him for about four years through music and we played together ever since along with a few others. He used to back me up on guitar when I played 5-string banjo. Bluegrass or clawhammer, drop-thumb or old-time. I enjoyed playing with Bob. Four or five of us would get together every week and played mostly for fun at some regular venues, you know. We played for weddings, for old folks, in back gardens and village halls for charities and in loads of pubs. I used to go over Bob's on a Sunday afternoon regular as he lived alone and we'd practice different tunes and songs. He could play a few instruments very well such as guitar, banjo, mandolin, squeezebox and harmonica, and loved singing his head off. Really belted 'em out!

 Anyway Bob decided to diet and was doing very well. This was last year and he was 25 stone at that time. He got to 18.5 stone and then slipped back. He ballooned back up to over 26 stones again and then started serious dieting again this year. Well the weight was just tumbling from the man and we were getting concerned as he wasn't looking too healthy. Next thing he was getting violent pains in his stomach and was told it was gallstones! The weight continued to fall from him and finally (to cut it short) he was diagnosed with cancer of the liver and pancreas. He was very ill then and rapidly went downhill. He'd phone me up at all hours weeping and screaming down the phone. I felt terrible and helpless listening (and now ashamed) and then he'd phone the next day and apologise. I'd go across to see him and it was so sad to see his acceptance of the inevitable. I'd play and sing for him and he asked me to play 'Needlecase' in 'clawhammer' style as he'd always wanted to play in that style but could never master it. He couldn't play anymore or even sing. At this time he was having chemotherapy, you know, and was very ill.

 It was the week I was going to the South of France with Sandra. We were leaving on the Friday and the gang came over from Nantwhich on the Wednesday and we had a great night at Bob's. He sat smiling all night as we played and sang.

 When I returned from France having no reply from Bob when I called, I thought that he was staying at his parents. After some days of hearing nothing I went over to his place and his neighbour Peggy told me he was in hospital! He'd had a bad fall and broken his hip!

 I went to see him next evening and he was in a wheelchair by his bed. He looked very ill but was coherant and chatting not too bad, you know. When next I went up with Mick and Les (music) to visit, four other of his friends were already there. This was only a few days after and he was in a truly horrible state. He didn't seem to know anyone or what was going on! He was staring wide-eyed and very agitated. He threw his sheet off and was naked but for a disposable nappy. He was twisting his leg about and it had got a pin in it were his hip was broken.

Aftre that he was moved into Ward 1 where he had his own room. I went to see him with another old friend of his and we just held Bob's hand and talked about old times (hah!). I sang to him but I don't know if he knew where he was. He was so pale and thin and with one eye closed and the other just staring at us. He never moved, but John said that Bob gripped him when we left. I only felt nothingness.

 We met Bob's father outside the ward and he told us that Bob had eight to ten weeks to live. When we left, I told John that I hoped Bob didn't last another week! He died three days later! His daughter Claire gave birth to his second grandaughter three days after that! Bob had told me that he just wanted to live long enough to see his new

grandchild!

 Just a couple of points I must make. If Bob hadn't gone on his drastic diet, would he have been diagnosed sooner as he would obviously had reason for concern about any dramatic weight loss? Also, Bob, since I first new him was  a hypochondriac and his favourite topic other than music was illness! He'd be off to the doc or even hospital at the drop of a hat! Subsequently when he first complained about his pains we all thought he was crying wolf. This has left me with a real guilt complex about getting annoyed with him (which I did) when he was so terribly ill.

 I decided to write this after reading fmear2ear's harrowing account of his friends demise with this terrible desease, but it took a while to post it!

 I miss Bob very much.

 I believe in euthanasia.

 I don,t believe in God.

 Sorry it was so drawn out but if anyone's still there, thanks for listening.

                                                                                                                        Steve.