Miles To Go Before I Sleep
‘Claire’s honest, raw, authentic diaries will be a source of comfort to many’- Miranda Hart
At the age of 54 Claire Gilbert was diagnosed with myeloma, an incurable cancer of the blood. The prognoses ranged from surviving only a few months to living for several decades, with no guarantee of which outcome was to be hers. It was a shocking diagnosis into uncertainty, or rather, into only one certainty: death. But Claire discovered that facing her own mortality was liberating.
She discovered this through writing letters. Claire asked her siblings and a small group of friends if they would let her write to them with total honesty about what she was going through, as she was going through it. These letters turned out to be a great solace, and gradually her group of ‘dear readers’ has grown; what she had to say wasn’t just of value to herself, but to others, too.
The letters chart Claire’s journey through diagnosis, chemotherapy and a brutal round of stem cell treatment, and end with the rest of the UK joining her in her immuno-compromised isolation in March 2020, when the coronavirus pandemic hit. Unflinchingly honest and wide-ranging, Claire writes about the restorative role of nature, politics, poetry, humour – and a restless exploration of the spiritual dimension of death and dying.
This is an honest, luminous account of what Claire has gone through and what keeps her going, a deeply spiritual meditation on life and suffering, and an exploration of how faith is no simple solace but provides a whole new plane of meaning during these liminal moments.
‘Claire Gilbert’s account of the progress of her fatal illness, from diagnosis through various traumatic treatments, is in turn candid, painful, funny, tender, fierce and philosophical. But most of all it is a marvellously enjoyable read depicting the human spirit at its finest: defiant, exuberant, joyous. An example to us all that we can triumph over the cruellest adversity’- Salley Vickers
At the age of 54 Claire Gilbert was diagnosed with myeloma, an incurable cancer of the blood. The prognoses ranged from surviving only a few months to living for several decades, with no guarantee of which outcome was to be hers. It was a shocking diagnosis into uncertainty, or rather, into only one certainty: death. But Claire discovered that facing her own mortality was liberating.
She discovered this through writing letters. Claire asked her siblings and a small group of friends if they would let her write to them with total honesty about what she was going through, as she was going through it. These letters turned out to be a great solace, and gradually her group of ‘dear readers’ has grown; what she had to say wasn’t just of value to herself, but to others, too.
The letters chart Claire’s journey through diagnosis, chemotherapy and a brutal round of stem cell treatment, and end with the rest of the UK joining her in her immuno-compromised isolation in March 2020, when the coronavirus pandemic hit. Unflinchingly honest and wide-ranging, Claire writes about the restorative role of nature, politics, poetry, humour – and a restless exploration of the spiritual dimension of death and dying.
This is an honest, luminous account of what Claire has gone through and what keeps her going, a deeply spiritual meditation on life and suffering, and an exploration of how faith is no simple solace but provides a whole new plane of meaning during these liminal moments.
‘Claire Gilbert’s account of the progress of her fatal illness, from diagnosis through various traumatic treatments, is in turn candid, painful, funny, tender, fierce and philosophical. But most of all it is a marvellously enjoyable read depicting the human spirit at its finest: defiant, exuberant, joyous. An example to us all that we can triumph over the cruellest adversity’- Salley Vickers
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Reviews
Diagnosed with myeloma aged 54, and 'given' maybe months, maybe decades to live, Gilbert began writing to people dear to her, charting the course of her diagnosis and treatment, with honesty, gratitude, humour, even elation. Shining through the darkness of her letters there are moments of epiphany, comfort and inspiration; there are poems and pedicures, art and acupuncture, lipstick and Larkin, her faith and her partner, Sean. 'Walk with me,' she invites, and we are honoured to do so.
intense, evocative and moving
The story that Gilbert tells is an honest one, full of pain, fear and bitter truth