The least SEO friendly title but the most related to how I am currently feeling.
Sometimes I feel paralysed to my words. To physically saying anything but yet, I know I have it in written form. I don't know why. Other times I have no words to write. My words are my processing I think. The initial stages of letting something sync in. Be it happy or sad, scary or not.
Yesterday whilst mum was staying at mine, I was doing some work on the laptop and she decided to go and get fresh air and take Beau out for a mini walk. 20 minutes later she came back upstairs in a daze stating "I forgot to take my phone"
"Mum are you ok?"
"I went dizzy" she replied. And lay on the sofa.
"Did you fall over mum?"
She had bark on her clothes.
"I fell over in the daffodils twice." She laughed. She laughed but she was also scared. She explained she couldn't see out of one eye. She was talking but she was also sounding confused.
The panic rose up inside of my belly. The panic and the sadness for my mum. There is nothing worse than seeing your parent ill, helpless, scared.
I didn't know what to do. This is when I would call up mum and ask her. "Mum, what should I do?" And I couldn't. I tried. She said. "Don't call an ambulance" and something in me didn't agree. She was at the end of week two post chemo and she had been feeling nauseous. We thought it was the end of that and that it was going to be plane sailing (or plain sailing?) Till the next bout of treatment in one weeks time. Maybe we got too complacent?
I called 111 and got what seemed like a talk talk customer service agent on the end. I was not hopeful he would help. But, alas. He did. He sent for an ambulance.
FUCK. An ambulance.
Two wonderful men showed up and asked mum some questions. She couldn't remember what month it was. Or the day. I mean, she's not at work so really, it was a trick question. But It felt worrying. Her temperature was 38 (it's an alert if 37.5 or higher) And so the ambulance men said she was a red flag and must go into hospital. That meant sirens and all the works.
FUCK.
Mum was wheeled into a&e and myself and J (the husband) sat and waited whilst two old women discussed semolina and bus passes. I just cried. I just kept thinking. What if I don't see her again. I am not ready. At all. Not one bit.
The nurse came to get us and led us to mum. She was doing fine in a little private room (incase she had an infection) and we were told her bloods had been done, a chest X ray and we were to wait for a head scan. It was 6.30pm.
By midnight. We were told they think the cancer had spread to the brain. They found a legion on the left frontal lobe. Exactly where a lump had formed 2 weeks ago when she told her onchology team and they said "keep an eye on it" Well, this was the result perhaps.
I think out of anything else about this whole thing is the waiting, the not knowing, the miscommunication, the dismissiveness, the inconsistencies. It is very apparent there is not the money to get the care (you) feel your loved ones deserve. I'm not going to say its unfair. We are so grateful to have free health care. But unfortunately. It may never seem like enough care.
Mum was to be kept over night and to see the meds team in the morning and then wait for the onchology team at Kings. I wrote this at 3pm the next day. And we were still waiting to hear from onchology. But in the mean time it would seem mum has blood clots in her lungs and they then needed to scan the heart to determine what medicine she needs.
Scan her heart? FUCK.
When you get told your mum has cancer. You just think "fuck" cancer is going to kill her. You fear the cancer itself. You fear the C word. You think, well that's it. That's the scariest day of my life has happened. You've been your mum, Best friend, your person has incurable cancer and you don't fathom what that really means accept you know its the worst news you ever could here.
And then other shit happens. Other news. Other bits you need to worry about. It's not the cancer itself you should worry about, in a sense, that can be kept at bay if they treat it soon enough. They can pump you with awful toxins and hopefully slow the cancer down. But Its what that then does to your body. Or what the tumours actually do to your body.
You begin to worry you were too nieve. To at ease with it all. You get used to this idea... "ok we will do treatment. We will meditate. We will talk to the cancer. We will work miracles" you think you are someone going through the worst and when that worst seems manageable you think "ok. Mum's got this. We've got this"
And yet here we are again. Waiting again. More fearful again. More unknowns. Again. We thought. Ok we have to get through chemo. Let's just get through chemo and then live a good life. And then, life has other ideas. Other challenges. Other obstacles.
I have 10000 billion thoughts and fears going through my head and in this moment I don't know if there is a way to turn this around to feel better. More postive.
Mum already has. She's listed all the things she is grateful for.
Not being at home on her own when it happened. Not driving. Being with me so we did call for someone and she just didn't go to bed. Grateful that the hospital has been great. Feeding her up and having us able to visit. She's grateful to be here fighting the fight and dancing the dance. And learning the lesson. Thsts the biggest thing. She's learning about compassion. For herself mostly. (Thsts a whole other post)
But I have never been more proud of her. I have never learnt so much from her than I have in the last 6 weeks. I am in awe of her. Her light, her awareness, her love, her axceptance, her peace, her courage.
Her courage is my courage and I am forever grateful she is my mum.
You dont know what strength you have till you need it. Till you have no other choice.
But then you find it. Or you get taught it. My mum has taught me strengrh.
thank you mum.
An added note: I wrote this on Wednesday. Mum fell Tuesday. It is now thurs day. Last night we got told they think the cancer in the head is bone. We think that it more treatable than the brain itself. We think this is something to be grateful for. This morning we hope for mum to be discharged post being treated for the clots and luckily the scan of her heart came back fine. Thank goodness. Now we see what happens from here. We pray treatment continues and we can carry on carrying on.