My doting only son, the brilliant cancer doctor
WHERE to start with the story of Nicholas, my only child? How to convey the happiness he brought into my life?
Nick was the only blessing to come out of my marriage to my first husband. From the moment he was born, he was a happy, laughing baby. I know I’m biased, but even before he could walk I was convinced I had an exceptional boy. From his very earliest days, he was set on becoming a doctor. I got called in one day by his teacher at primary school to be quizzed on why, at his tender age, he was talking about ‘the birds and the bees’!
It was my fault. A man had come to the door selling books and, even though I didn’t have the money, I’d agreed to buy a set and saved up to get them. Nick fell on one about human anatomy and lapped it up. It meant I had some explaining to do!
His father and I parted com-pany when he was four, and we were on our own for a while. Looking back, I don’t know how I managed because money was very tight. But we got through.
When he was nine, I remarried — the best thing I ever did, not just for me, but also for Nick. My new husband Joe thought the world of Nick and wanted to help him achieve his dreams. He built him a little ‘laboratory’ in the cupboard under the stairs, so Nick could study there.
But just before Nick went to university, my lovely Joe died. I remember Nick saying to me: ‘We’re back where we started, Mum, on our own.’
The proudest day of my life was when Nick graduated from medical school at Liverpool University, and I have his graduation picture on the wall.
He went on to become a cancer specialist at Clatterbridge Hospi-tal on the Wirral, then a Fellow of the Royal College of Surgeons.
NICK and his wife gave me two lovely grand-sons, one of whom is a consultant anaesthetist and the other a teacher. I moved to Clatterbridge to be near them, and Nick was the most attentive and caring of sons. He would take me to do my shopping, put it away for me and do chores around the house.
Not surprisingly, he had never liked me smoking. I remember him saying: ‘For the first time in my life I can do something to help you, and you won’t listen.’
I was stubborn at first, telling him: ‘If you’re going to be a doctor, love, be careful how you speak to people.’ But I did eventually give up cigarettes.
Actually, I’m only here today because of him. When I devel-oped blood clots in my lungs, he got me to the right people fast.
I knew something was wrong with my boy at my 90th birthday party. I could see something in his eyes. It was so unfair. He had just retired and was looking forward to spending time with the family, then he developed cancer himself. Of course, he knew how it would progress.
He was treated by his colleagues and, goodness, they made such a fuss of him. God blessed him, too, as he didn’t suffer for too long.
At his funeral, I got to hear about so many of those he had treated and the lives he had saved. His patients and the staff thought the world of him.
My heart is broken. But I could not have asked for a better son.
Nicholas Smith, born February 6, 1955; died May 12, 2017, aged 62.