As soon as COVID-19 became a serious threat to the UK, I stayed in my flat as much as possible. I knew that this would be another huge threat to Tom and seeing friends was just too risky when I was going to see him in hospital. Eventually Newcastle Uni shut, and I knew I had to get back to Manchester before I potentially got stuck in my flat on my own. I booked a train home in a few days’ time so I could spend a day with Tom. The stark reality became that I had to go and say goodbye to Tom, with no clue when I would next be able to see him. But truthfully, I had to consider that this could be the last time I saw him.

Tom was in hospital for his treatment, it was the day he was taken off immunotherapy and put on growth inhibitors. I’d spoken to him on the phone and he knew how upset I was to leave him. I got to the hospital and he gave me a bracelet, which I will always treasure. We sat for hours chatting and holding hands, as usual. The doctor came to discuss the new medications and nurses were in and out, joking about his love for custard creams and a cup of tea. Tom was up and about, talking and joking. I knew that if this did turn out to be the last time I ever saw him, that I would be happy with how it went.

Tom and I now found ourselves dealing with this whole situation as well as suddenly being in a long distance relationship. We text most days but with his eyesight and energy levels being what they are, it is super difficult. We call every now and then but equally his speech is slurred, and you know- he is does have a Durham accent. I also try not to just ask ‘how are you?’, I don’t want that to be the only conversation we have. I can tell when Tom has a bad day because I usually wont hear from him when he’s feeling extra shit, or extra tired. I don’t expect him to reply, I send him messages in the hopes that he reads them. But it’s hard to sit back and trust that someone knows you love them. I told him the other day that I was worried that I said I love him too much, that it might not mean as much anymore. But I guess, realistically, it’s not something you can ever say too much when you mean it as much as I do.

Through all of this I have built a really strong relationship with his family, particularly his mum. They are probably the most welcoming and truly kindhearted family I’ve ever met. Being able to text his mum to check in on them, share pictures and memories, is something that has really helped me. I’m not sure where I’d be without that line of contact.

Up in Newcastle, I managed to meet quite a lot of Tom’s friends, but through this whole journey I am so lucky to see how loved he is every day. I get messages from his friends all the time, people I’ve met and people I’ve heard of but not had the chance to meet yet. Not only does it remind me how loved Tom is, but it really makes me feel part of his story and a part of the journey. Whether they’ve sent me well wishes or we’ve shared memories and stories, his friends have become my friends and really helped me.

A couple of weeks into being home, Tom became seriously ill after a blood transfusion. His temperature shot up and he had tests for Covid, that thankfully were negative. But this happened over a few days and despite the negative tests, I genuinely wasn’t sure that his body would be able to fight much longer. Tom and I had a conversation where everything was said that I would want him to know. We both laid everything on the table. For the next few days I would burst into tears very spontaneously, with the horrible weight of knowing that things weren’t going to get better. But as usual, Tom fought through.

He was stable again, but I knew that whatever happened now, we had had that conversation. I promised not to forget him, amongst other things, and anyone who has been lucky enough to meet Tom knows that forgetting him would be bloody difficult. I dream about Tom most nights but instead of dreaming of our future, now in my dreams I am usually aware that he is poorly. I think this must be something to do with me coming to terms with his illness, but I never picture Tom as a ‘sickly’ person. In these dreams he is always out laughing with friends or family and I know that this is a mirroring of reality. Even Tom’s nurses, who have dealt with him on his worst days, know him as a joker, full of life with an amazing ability to take everything on the chin. His spirit has made this journey easy for us all. Seeing how much grace he can have whilst dealing with this has made it that bit easier for all of us.

Evie