The dilemma Last week I discovered that my wife of 40 years has had breast cancer for two years. She claims she kept it a secret from me in order not to upset me or our adult children. A few days later, we discovered the cancer has progressed to her bones. I have to come to terms with the fact that I will probably soon be a widower, but also with the emotions surrounding my exclusion from the illness. Were it not for the fact that these last two years have probably been our best ever, this would feel like the ultimate betrayal of trust. I’m convinced that one of the reasons she hid this from me was because she treated it exclusively with alternative medicine and knew I would oppose this. Many of my emotions are unacceptable in the context of illness and bereavement. Anger at her lack of trust in me isn’t a good companion to sadness. My tears alternate with resentment and the mixture is difficult to reconcile. Whereas she wants to stay positive, I know that the prognosis is quite the opposite. Added to my disarray is the fact that she wants no one else to know about her situation. To avoid lying and faking, I have cut off activities with my closest friends, so I now have to deal with this alone. Any advice will be appreciated. Mariella replies I’m so sorry. This is a sad story for all concerned and particularly, of course, your wife. I totally understand your feelings of betrayal and bewilderment. Were the circumstances different or the prognosis less bleak I would definitely advise that you express your frustration in no uncertain terms. However, based on what you’ve told me, I don’t think there is room for anyone else’s feelings but hers at the moment. Until you’ve had a brush with your own mortality it’s impossible to know how you will react. Pledging our troth, promising to care for each other in sickness and in health, are well meant in the moment and indicative of our best intentions. To become a couple is seen as a chance to become “one”, and described as such in most marriage services, but, as any divorcee will tell you, that state of elevated congress is rarely achieved and nigh on impossible to sustain. For most of us our lives will be lived out in tolerable companionship. Even in the closest seeming couples most of what we think and feel would come as a total surprise, shock or indeed betrayal to our dearly beloveds. I say all this to try to put your wife’s behaviour into some context, because I am pretty sure that quite a lot of your time at the moment is spent scrambling around for an explanation. Her choice to keep her illness from you is puzzling, but there are mitigating factors that we have to try to understand in order to see her side of the picture. While perhaps misplaced, the sheer bravery of enduring these last two years without burdening anyone with her diagnosis is impressive. It’s not the right thing to do, but it takes an enormous amount of courage not to seek out the support of those closest to you when the bottom falls out of your world. While I entirely empathise with your feelings, I do have to highlight the price in loneliness and grief your wife must have paid for that decision. There are no “unacceptable” emotions in the face of illness and bereavement, neither for you nor for her. I suspect that, despite the courage it’s taken to conceal what is going on, it’s fear that prompted her to stay silent. The most agonising part of this is that it really won’t help either of you to rake over those resentments. We are all able to play an important role in the lives of those we love but, ultimately, even the most intimately entwined couples make their own choices. Your wife may have cause to regret the course she’s embarked on in terms of treatment, but living with our decisions is part of adulthood, and even more so when it comes to life and death. As you’ve said, the prognosis doesn’t sound good, but she’s also right in being allowed to choose her narrative, and her desire to stay positive has much to recommend it. That said, demanding total secrecy borders on the inexcusably selfish. Others need to be allowed to prepare themselves for the brutal battle ahead and the possibility of loss. The first to be considered alongside you, are your children. I lost my father overnight – literally – at the age of 15. It was world-shattering and I’d swap anything for the opportunity to prepare and say goodbye rather than suffer that absolute, unfathomable disappearing act. Your wife may not want attention and may believe that the best way is her way, but as a parent you can’t deny your kids the right to walk with her as far as they can. I’d also encourage her to get in touch with an organisation such as Macmillan, who can offer help and advice. What your wife is going through needs to be recognised and reconciled, not only for those who will live on but also for her sake, to take as much weight as you can off her shoulders as she walks a road none of us will escape. If you have a dilemma, send a brief email to mariella.frostrup@observer.co.uk. Follow her on Twitter @mariellaf1