A version of the following article appears in the current One in Four magazine in its Mythbusters series to show not all sadness is depression.
My husband is terminally ill. There, I said it. Aged just 43 and given three months to live, he has already defied the grimmest of predictions.
A wonderful doctor in charge of palliative care referred to “appropriate sadness” for us both.
A family support counsellor tells me we are both still in shock and our daughters are struggling. She’s stating the obvious but she’s still a marvel. I feel calmer yet emotionally drained after I have spoken to her. I remain as positive as I can but I am desperately sad. What I’m not, unlike other times in my life, is depressed.