It was 16 weeks from diagnosis to death, but as ANNABEL CROFT reveals in her first devastating interview since losing her husband Mel, the ordeal was made even worse by a callous doctor…

The night before her Strictly debut, Annabel Croft was home alone collecting her thoughts. What a mess they were.

She had to remember dance steps, suppress performance fears, and somehow overcome deep, debilitating pain before stepping out in front of the world with a big smile.

The only person who could have given her a pep talk and a “you can do it” hug like he had done her entire adult life wasn’t there.

“So I just sat there and cried,” she remembers. “Mel was my biggest supporter, my protector.” He gave me confidence. He did things right, he always had. I wanted to talk to him. I wanted to say, “I’m really nervous about tomorrow, but I don’t have you to fix it.”

“It was a strange scenario. I was about to go out in front of millions of people and be cheerful and happy, but I was sobbing and thinking, ‘I don’t know where you are, Mel.’ Where have you gone?’.’

The night before her Strictly debut, Annabel Croft (pictured) was home alone collecting her thoughts

The night before her Strictly debut, Annabel Croft (pictured) was home alone collecting her thoughts

Strictly fans will know that former tennis ace Annabel, 57, came into the competition from a difficult situation. She was widowed in May after losing her husband, Mel Coleman, to cancer. They had been together for 36 years and he was her first serious boyfriend. “There was never anyone else,” she says.

The speed was particularly brutal. Mel, an extremely healthy former circumnavigator, passed from diagnosis to death within 16 weeks. He was 60 years old.

“That’s unthinkable,” says Annabel. “How can someone disappear in three months?” We didn’t even know he was sick.

“The day they said, ‘Cancer and it’s everywhere,’ I just went into complete free fall.” I was one of those wailing women in the hospital parking lot.

“Poor Mel was the one who was told he was going to die and he comforted me.” Three months later I picked up a death certificate and our three children had to deal with the fact that their father’s name was on it.

“Our son Charlie said it was as if a hand had come down from heaven and ripped Mel out, leaving our family with a gaping hole that would never be filled.”

This is Annabel’s first interview about Mel’s death and she cries the entire time. “It’s OK because I’ve cried every day since Mel died,” she says, emphasizing that she’s ready to talk.

Annabel and Strictly dance partner Johannes Radebe.  The night before her debut on the BBC show, she admitted she

Annabel and Strictly dance partner Johannes Radebe. The night before her debut on the BBC show, she admitted she “just sat there and cried” without her biggest supporter cheering her on

Annabel and Mel on their wedding day.  The tennis champion said her husband

Annabel and Mel on their wedding day. The tennis champion said her husband “gave me confidence.” He taught me. . . live.’

She has the confused air of someone recently bereaved. She tells me that Mel’s suits – “his beautiful linen suits that he would wear at Wimbledon” – are still hanging in the wardrobe. She accidentally picked up his toothbrush the other day and stood there shocked. “I should throw it away. ‘I can’t.’

She was unable to retrieve his ashes from the crematorium. “I know I have to,” she says. “People say it’s a comfort to have them, but I just can’t do it.” Ash? Mel?

“I didn’t understand what grief was until now.” I didn’t even understand death, had never thought about it. Now I’m thinking, ‘God, Mel, you caused the death.’ How is that even possible?’ How can I be a widow? “We were a team.”

That’s the saddest part. When Annabel met Mel when she was just 21, she was clearly single. At the time, she was one of our brightest tennis stars, a former British No. 1. At 15, she was the youngest person to play at Wimbledon. But by the time she was 20, she was deeply dissatisfied with life on the international circuit.

Enter Mel – 6 feet tall, with a big smile; equally relaxed and anxious. They met when she was asked to take part in a television show about learning to sail – and her whole life changed.

“Our first handshake was captured on film,” she remembers. “He earned £50 a week sailing around the world. He didn’t own a pair of real shoes. I had this life that was glamorous on the outside, but I was in a bubble, acting since I was nine and being on the international stage since I was twelve. It was an adult world full of managers, contracts and sponsors. I never went to parties or dancing like teenagers do. I wasn’t fully trained yet.’

Biggest Supporter: Annabel Croft and husband Mel, pictured in June 2021

Biggest Supporter: Annabel Croft and husband Mel, pictured in June 2021

It was on that boat that she fell in love – with Mel and with the idea that there could be another way.

“It was the first time I spent time with people my age. I put on normal clothes – no tennis gear. I went to the pub. For the first time, I didn’t have to think about my forehand or backhand or about going out in front of an audience.

“And when I met Mel I realized I didn’t want to continue doing that. I think I drew strength from who he was. He gave me confidence. He taught me. . . live.’

There were shockwaves when she retired this year, but tennis remained a great love. She made a career as a commentator and ran a tennis academy in Portugal with Mel (he also later became a successful investment banker).

However, from the moment they met, she no longer felt alone.

I interviewed Annabel two years ago during lockdown when she and Mel were building a motorhome he called Vannabel and she joked that her main life tip would be to marry a circumnavigator.

She didn’t know, she laughed, that other people’s husbands were crap at home improvement or terrible in a crisis. “Mel could just fix things,” she smiles today.

You included? ‘Absolutely.’

The first inkling that something was wrong with him came in January. “Mel said, ‘I didn’t tell you, but I had this weird pain,'” says Annabel.

They wondered if it could be diverticulitis, a condition that affects the intestines, since he had a family history of it. The family doctor referred him for tests.

About ten days later, after undergoing a scan, Mel drove three hours to Manchester, where Annabel worked.

“He wasn’t feeling well and I insisted he shouldn’t drive, but he was always happy to pick me up.” We went out to eat but he pushed his food around on his plate. He later said he had been sick at the hotel.’

There were several appointments at home before waiting to see a specialist.

“When we sat down, the first words out of his mouth to Mel were, ‘Your life expectancy isn’t very good.’ You have colon cancer that has spread throughout your liver and into your kidneys; It is everywhere. “You need to get your papers in order.”

She relives this. “It came out of nowhere.” No one had mentioned cancer. I said, “What, what?” “I looked at Mel. He took it by the chin.

“He said, ‘Do I have any hope?’ And this man – I still can’t believe how cold he was – said, “No.” It’s going to be quick. You’ll come here tomorrow and we’ll take out the intestines and give you an ostomy bag, but for the rest of your life – and we’re not talking very long – you’ll be in and out of hospital and undergoing chemotherapy. They will not be able to enter public places and there will be no normal life.

Happy times: Annabel (center) and Mel with their children (from left) Lily, Amber and Charlie

Happy times: Annabel (center) and Mel with their children (from left) Lily, Amber and Charlie

“I was shocked, hysterical, screaming and wailing. Only later did we ask why they were talking about surgery if he had no hope at all, but at that point it was unclear.

“I remember saying to the counselor, ‘I can’t believe that’s coming out of your mouth,’ and he said, ‘Some of us have to be the bearers of the bad news, and today I got the short end of the stick.’ It was so brutal.

“Afterwards, Mel was so quiet in the parking lot. He had been told he was dying and he comforted me.”

The next day they saw an oncologist. “I begged them, ‘Couldn’t you remove the cancerous parts of the liver?’ She said, ‘Would you like to see the scans?’ If we removed those pieces there would be nothing left.’ ‘

When a loved one is faced with such a diagnosis, relationships with healthcare professionals are paramount. Something seems to have gone terribly wrong here.

In desperation, Annabel called a friend, Isabella Cooper, a PhD student at the University of Westminster who happens to work in the field of cancer research.

“We only asked Isabella for help because they said he was dying – there was absolutely no hope.”

The couple met when she was asked to take part in a television show about learning to sail - and her entire life changed.

The couple met when she was asked to take part in a television show about learning to sail – and her entire life changed.

“Mel decided he didn’t want the surgery the consultant suggested. He didn’t want to be cut into pieces and put through all that chemo if he was going to end up dying anyway.

“They gave us nothing to hold on to.” Isabella was different. “She didn’t give us false hope, but she was willing to help.”

So began a program of daily oxygen treatment and a strict ketogenic metabolic diet.

“Isabella’s research had shown that cancer progression could not only be stopped, but reversed,” says Annabel.

The diet was low in carbohydrates, high in meat and had absolutely no sugar. For Annabel, keeping track of the new regime was a full-time job. “But every day I was running around sorting through the supplements and getting him all the ingredients. “We thought it would work. It worked.

“When he died, a scan showed his liver had receded from 97 percent (of the cancerous tumors) to 70 percent. He was doing much better. The pain and illness disappeared. We walked in Richmond Park every day. We were basically on the road for two and a half months.

“We sat on a bench, watched the wildlife and held hands. I would say, as I always have, ‘That’s all I need. I just need you.’ ‘

In April, Mel was feeling well and so they traveled to Portugal.

“I call it the fateful holiday,” says Annabel. “We believe his colon was perforated during the flight.” It can happen when he is in such a weakened state.

“We could tell something was wrong because his feet were very swollen.”

“From that moment on, his body was poisoned.”

Little did they know – “Oh my God, I had no idea,” she says – that Mel only had three weeks to live. From then on, the decline was dramatic as his organs failed.

“At home he was fading and dying before our eyes, but we had no idea.” One day he fainted in the bedroom. I tried to hold him up and screamed for help.

“A few days later he collapsed again. He had been on the patio – where he sat every day to get some vitamin D – but I found him under a bush.

“His face was all bloody.” I tried to help him up. He said, “Annabel, I can’t breathe.”

On the day of his death, Isabella actually came to lunch and brought with her a patient whose cancer was in remission.

“I tried to help him shave. I got him a stool to sit on, but he collapsed in the sink. He couldn’t take a shower, not even with my help. He said, “It would kill me.”

“Then Isabella came and said, ‘Ambulance, now,’ and we were taken to the hospital.” “We never knew, none of us knew, that he wasn’t coming home.”

She’s sobbing now, but the tears are of both anger and loss. Their children – Amber, Charlie and Lily, all in their 20s – gathered with their partners at the hospital. There were many nurses there “who were angels,” but Annabel’s most vivid memory is of one who, she says, wasn’t.

“Since then I’ve wondered if she was a psychopath. It felt that way because she seemed to enjoy telling Mel that he was dying.

“When she started talking like that, I said, ‘Can you please come here and talk to me privately first?’ I don’t want him to hear that.’ But she said, ‘No, he’s the patient.’ He needs to hear that he’s dying.’

“She started talking about palliative care and Charlie asked her, ‘What does that mean?’ Does he have months, weeks?’

“She said, ‘Huh!’ Almost laughing, mocking our son. “No – hours.” Mel heard it all. It was just terrible.

“She said, ‘Oh, and by the way, if he has a heart attack, we won’t resuscitate him.’

“Mel actually perked up – he had been in and out of consciousness – and said, ‘I don’t like the sound of that.’ He said he didn’t want a DNR, so no resuscitation order. I didn’t even know he knew the term. I also objected.

“This nurse said, ‘Listen to me.’ He has cancer. We will not revive him.’ Like she enjoyed it. This haunts me. It kept me awake so many nights because I remembered the sound of her voice. It was cruel.’

In this confused and disturbing environment, something changed. Mel began to say goodbye. “And we all realized not only that he was dying, but also that he knew he was dying,” says Annabel.

“He started giving orders – almost jokingly: ‘Charlie, the wheel on the van needs to be changed.’ Do this before you drive it.’ “Talk to the pensioner.” He started apologizing to our children’s partners and said he wouldn’t be there to give them away on their wedding day.

“He asked us to make sure we got Isabella a taxi home, which was typical of Mel – he was thinking about everyone else, not himself.”

“He never said ‘I’m scared’ or ‘I’m leaving’.”

Did she have a chance to say goodbye? ‘Not really. It happened so quickly. He kept falling in and out of consciousness.

“And then …” . . saw him die. He breathed his last.’

She takes a long drink. “Have you ever seen anyone die? It’s so traumatic. I was traumatized. I’m still traumatized, but at the same time I can’t believe he’s gone.

“We used to hold hands and talk in bed, and now I look at his side and say, ‘Where are you?’.”

Six hundred people attended Mel’s memorial service. Annabel says her children and close friends carried her through the early, callous days. Her son recently moved into her home.

“Grief comes in waves, often when you least expect it,” she says. “I’ll be driving and I’ll feel this jolt.” It’s physical, visceral pain.

“I stroll around the house expecting to see him in this chair or that sofa.” We did everything together. We chose every piece of furniture and every painting together.

“Now I’m looking at things in our house. You’re very nice, but what’s the point?

“My daughter recently got engaged, which was bittersweet. “We have a wedding coming up, but Mel won’t be there.”

She feels robbed. “Mel’s parents are in their 90s.” Mine are still alive too. I would never have thought that in a million years. . . “I thought we had another 30 years,” she says.

How does this woman even stand, let alone dance? It seems frivolous to even talk about Strictly, but Annabel insists the show has saved sanity.

“When I got the offer, I thought, what else am I going to do – come home at 4 p.m. and find a dark, empty house, a house that Mel built in the winter?”

“I’m also an athlete. “The idea of ​​using my body to relieve something – the pain, I guess – was appealing.”

Work, in whatever form, helped, she explains. Just weeks after losing Mel, she took on her biggest presenting job to date with the BBC Wimbledon team. She conducted on-court interviews with the winners and was praised for her poise.

She now admits she often struggled behind the scenes but felt she had to do the job “for Mel”.

“He had been so proud when they asked me. I really had to do it for him, and actually it helped. I would cry in the members area, but then I would walk out and… . Focus. Honestly, it was a relief. It gave my brain a break from grief.’

Just like Strictly does. “I find the performance frightening.” I feel physically ill, but the effort involved leaves your brain with no room for anything else.

“It brings joy, or at least a glimmer of it, back into my life.” I actually still cry every day, but in the last few weeks I’ve come home once or twice and realized, “I haven’t cried yet today .”’

And then there’s Johannes Radebe, her Strictly partner. No matter how far this couple gets in the competition, it sounds like they deserve a special award.

“He was Mel’s favorite star on Strictly,” says Annabel. “Mel was a big fan of the show. He watched it a lot more than I did and knew all the pros.

“When Johannes was there, he would call me and say, ‘Come and look at this guy.’ It always touched him very much to watch Johannes dance. Although Mel was a big, tough guy, he was very sensitive. Tears were streaming down his cheeks.’

As she does now, she only talks about “feeling safe in Johannes’ arms.”

“He’s smaller than Mel, but he has the most wonderful hug,” she says. “He was so sweet. It really lifts me up to see his smiling face. “John is like an angel who came into my life to ease the pain a little.”

And Strictly’s ultimate prize, the Glitter Ball? When athletes train Strictly, the urge to compete usually flows out of them. Not here.

“Glitterball or not, I will have had a wonderful and joyful experience,” she says.

“I just get through each day.” “If the last year has taught me anything, it’s this: Don’t focus on the future, focus on today.”