Rewind the clock a year and 2 weeks.
Driving home from an amazing week away with the kids and fella, we stop for food and i notice i've a lot of missed calls from my mum and dads home number, dads mobile and a voicemail from him and another from one of my sisters. Whilst they asked how the holiday had been and to let them know when i was home, I knew something wasn't right, I feared that our beloved cat had become more ill, he was old and beginning to suffer with lots of ailments. Never did i imagine that the most amazing week of my life was about to turn into the worst of my life.
Once home I saw dad had tried ringing the landline numerous times too. I rang him to say we
were home and he said he'd be straight over with the cat. I really worried that we would have to be taking a trip to the vets to say goodbye to him. Dad arrived and sat and listened to the kids talking
about their holiday, telling him how awesome it was, dad smiled with them and
chatted, looking at their photos and asking them about the places they'd been. Once they'd exhausted their stories he asked if we could talk in the other room. I left James to look
after the kids and we went and sat in the dining room, that’s when my world crumbled, dad told me how mum had had some
blood tests done, which I knew about, she'd been feeling lethargic and we’d
assumed her iron levels were low, or something similar. It would seem on the Thursday they told her
she was to go straight into hospital, it was there that they told her she
needed a lumbar puncture and that they thought she had leukemia! The following day they'd confirmed that she did have acute myloid leukemia. I sat there
shocked, not knowing what to say, I’d just had the most amazing week ever, and
now this. I couldn’t figure out what I was meant to do, was I meant to cry?
Shout? I didn’t know, so I sat there in a daze, not really hearing what dad was
telling me, holding my hand, he said mum was feeling ok, just tired and a
little achey. What the hell was I meant to do? This was something that I’d not
expected. We chatted for a while, about what i don't remember. We decided to tell the kids,
that grandma was in hospital, I believe in telling my kids the truth, so I
explained that she had a form of cancer and that at the moment we had no idea
what was gonna happen. They seemed to
process it better than me, I left them with James and jumped straight in the car,
ringing Rosa as soon as i was in the car, sobbing my heart out, I'd just left my friends 300 miles away and we were both upset at being so
far away from each other. I got to the hospital and remarkably managed to find a parking space easily, the lift seemed to take forever to come and then to get to the right floor, mum was in a room on her own, the ward was eerily quiet with patients all tucked away in their own rooms with doors closed. She looked like she
had before I had gone on holiday. Holiday! Wow I’d only been home 2 hours and
it seemed such a long time since we were playing and laughing together on the beach. I talked with mum for ages, she told me how it didn’t seem real that she could have something
as serious as leukaemia as she didn’t feel ill. She didn’t look ill. This really had to be a bad dream, didn't it?
The doctors did test after test and confirmed that she had acute myloid leukemia and the prognosis was 3 months to
live if it isn't caught and treated quickly. The
success rate for the chemotherapy was high, so we all held out hope that she
would beat this. She started treatment immediately,
they pumped loads of different drugs into her, she had no immune system at all
now, so she was on loads of different antibiotics, some were causing allergic
reactions. The chemo itself wasn’t too bad for her, but the reactions to other meds were
severe, the other medications made her sick, brought her out in a rash, made
her swell up, she lost her taste buds so stopped eating because everything
tasted foul to her. She became weak and what should have been a 10 day course
of chemo and a couple of weeks at home before the next round, ended up being 7
weeks in hospital. I visited as often as
I could, but to expect the kids to sit in hospital for long periods of time was
too much for them. Mum was determined to
fight this, but with all the allergic reactions she was tired and fed up.
I researched other alternative medications as i believe strongly in avoiding pharmaceutical drugs if possible, I told her about sickness remedies, water retention remedies, even solutions for the skin blistering, but she was
reluctant to listen or take on board the information I had found, this
infuriated me, I knew and trusted that there are other ways to treat cancers, I
knew antibiotics were not the only way of keeping her from catching bugs and
colds etc. but she didn’t want to know. So I backed off from trying. It was
hard but I knew I was just going to upset myself if I kept trying. Her doctor
had even told her that a patient had been drinking green tea and it cancelled
out the chemo, I knew it was bollocks, but she trusted him. My parents lifestyle is the opposite to mine, thinking organic food is a rip off, that companies wouldn't be allowed to use chemicals if they weren't safe etc. So i guess i knew my ideas and research were wasted.
Eventually mum was well enough to come home, the plan was that she’d have a
week or so at home then go back for more chemo, they’d decided that she could
have 3 lots of chemo, and that this would hopefully put the leukemia in
remission. It had a high success rate. Once mum was home it was obvious that the 7 weeks in hospital had took their toll, she was weak, hardly able to walk or stand, and she slept a lot. Between sleeping, watching tv and reading, she didn't do much else for a week or so. So we were all feeling positive though, the prognosis was looking good.
I
knew mum was due back in clinic for another blood transfusion and platelets so
when she rang to ask if I was in, that they would come visit, I knew something
wasn’t right. She’d been told by doctors, whilst in hospital, that she was
meant to be avoiding catching anything,
like coughs, colds and viruses.
We knew that at mine with all the extra kids around, and the cat, she
was at risk, but she was adamant she was coming to see us. My parents turned
up, exchanged pleasantries with the kids and asked if we could go into the
other room to chat (this was becoming the dreaded phrase to hear). We sat to the table
and mum proceeded to tell me that the chemo wasn’t working, that it hadn’t
touched the leukemia at all. It turned
out she had a mutated gene that fended off the chemo, her leukemia cells were
higher than when they’d started treatment!
She’d gone through 7 weeks of hell for nothing! She’d lost her hair for
nothing! The last hope of a recovery was
a bone marrow transplant, their hopes pinned on a match from either her sister,
in Germany, or her brother.
The doctors weren't able to run the tests for a bone marrow transplant as it was soon made clear
that they couldn’t get mums body to respond enough for the transplant to take
place. Her blood wasn’t reacting to the transfusions and platelets enough, her
body was not in good enough condition to be able to do the transplant and it
wasn’t ever going to be. So that was it,
there was nothing more they could do for her, she was going to die! Shit my mum
was going to die, she was only 61, her grandkids were all under 12, her kids
were all under 36, they’re not ages you expect to lose mum and grandma! It was so
unfair. I was angry. I tried to convince her and my dad that it was possible to
force these things into remission with drastic changes of diet and lifestyle,
but my words fell on deaf ears, much to my annoyance. I had spent hours
researching options, but mum was very quickly of the mindsight that she was
going to just live the life she had left the way she wanted and basically gave
up on beating the cancer.
Apart from wearing her bald head with
pride, for the first couple of weeks you wouldn’t have known she was ill , she had a few weeks of energy and oomph, so my
parents packed up their caravan, they didn’t go far, but they visited towns
they’d not seen much of before. They sat in the sun in their deckchairs,
holding hands, watching the world. Mum was still attending the clinic for bags
of platelets and blood transfusions, but to those of us that saw her often it
was soon becoming noticeable that she was losing strength. She’d left hospital weak from sitting in bed
for so many weeks but she’d gained some of the strength back, but it was
vanishing again quickly. Me and the kids visited them in a town only an hour
away, we went for a wander around the town and castle, mum in dads electric
scooter and dad in his wheelchair. Dad
was hardly able to walk far anymore, his disability had gradually got worse over the years, at most he could wander in his garden, so
I was left pushing him around the town, bloody hell it was hard work in the
heat, we ate ice-creams, chatted and smiled, mum was whizzing about on the
scooter so fast we struggled to keep up.
After a few hours mum was running out of energy so her and dad headed
back to the caravan and we came home. It
had been lovely to spend the day with them.
It was sad watching mum deteriorate though, the once strong stubborn woman
was now weak and stubborn.
I decided I needed a couple of days
away from everything just with the kids, it was all too much and I desperately
just wanted some quiet time to help process things. So I rang my parents to ask if they’d keep an
eye on the cat for me while we all went away in the caravan. Mum asked where we were going and when, so I
explained we were just going to the Peak District an hour away. She asked if I’d mind them coming with us
too. It wasn’t quite what I’d planned but I said it was ok, after all there
weren’t going to be many more chances to be together. I rang James to see if he could organise time
off work to come with us, he could. An
hour later mum rang and asked if my sister could come with her kids too. Bang went
my quiet few days away. What I needed
the most was time on our own, to stop, to think, to process. But I couldn’t
exactly say no to them all going too.
We had a few outings whilst we were there, wandering the towns and exploring
the area, surprisingly even though it was so close to home it was a place I
hadn’t been to much as an adult. We had a family day out, picnic packed,
blankets and swimming costumes for the kids, we sat at the side of a river, all
the kids playing, mum and dad in their deckchairs, watching them all laughing
and smiling was lovely. Mum went for a wander along the riverbank, encouraging her grandkids to splash each other, climb trees and hills etc. It was weird cos I knew she was dying, I knew these moments were limited, but it just didn't seem real. It was a red hot day and limited shade, it was getting too much for mum so her and dad left us there so she could go and have a nap, we met them back at the caravans later on.
I spent some quiet time in my parent’s
caravan, just sat with my mum, quietly chatting about stuff, just taking time
to be with each other. It was clear that her and my sister had more to talk
about, I was never sure what she was wanting to hear from me, she didn’t
understand the way I lived my life, whilst she supported our decision to Home
Educate, she would still ask how ‘lessons’ were going. I’m sure whilst she
nodded in agreement to our more autonomous style, she was hoping I would follow
a more structured approach with the kids. I wanted to spend time with her, I just didn't know what to say.
She was really weak and spent a lot of the time just sat watching everyone or
napping. The 5 kids all played and explored, dragging James off to climb trees
and paddle in the river, or to kick a ball around or watch them on their
bikes. My nieces were lovely and sweet,
they gave me kisses and cuddles and a lovely birthday card, it was lovely to spend time with them. Watching dad in an evening, just sat in his
chair watching the world go past was sad, it was awful knowing that he’d spent
the last 42 years with mum, his best friend, his true love, and he was losing her. It was
heartbreaking all I could do was put my hand on his and sit with him. Doing my
best not to cry, I felt like I had to hold it together for them all.
Me and my sister sat with mum whilst the kids were all out playing, mum was having a bad day,
she'd been sick a couple of times and had no energy, we all cried, hugged each
other and sat silently. Seeing mum like that was weird,
I’d never seen her cry. She was a tough woman. Even when her mum had died, I
remember me and my sisters were little and we’d been out in dad’s work wagon
with him. We arrived home mum stood at the gate waiting, we were told to wait
in the wagon, it was dad that cried and mum hugged him. When her sister died
when I was little I don’t remember seeing her cry. Only 2 months previous another of her sisters
had died, me and my sisters sobbed at the funeral, mum didn’t shed a tear. I’d never met anyone so strong before and now
here she was scared and crying and I couldn’t do anything to help her.
Whilst we were there, I took mum and my sister to a lovely little garden
centre, it had a café overlooking the river and they’d built bird tables on the
banks, right outside the windows. We
drank tea, watched the baby birds feeding right at the side of us, and talked,
trying not to get too upset, but knowing, or not knowing, whether there’d be
any more chances for us to do things together.
We chatted about things, some important, others not. It was hard trying
not to talk about future plans, knowing mum wouldn’t be around to experience
things. That night whilst James held me,
I cried myself to sleep.
We were only home a week before we were packing the car up for another week
away, this time without James. Both my
sisters, all my nieces and my parents, were all going to a place we’d been
numerous times on holiday as kids, in the Norfolk Broads. We’d decided to join
them late in the planning so were going to be staying in the middle of the
place whilst the others shared a log cabin on the edge.
Because I’d been there many times over
the years I knew the phone signal was appalling on the site, so I’d told James
I’d do my best to message as much as I could. The place was just as it had been
as kids, well apart from a few new bits, a veg garden and an outbuilding no
longer there (which as a teen I’d spent many an evening in with my mates). We were first to arrive so unpacked and went
off exploring, our apartment was upside down, the entrance and living area
being up some wooden steps to the decking.
Downstairs, on the ground floor were the bedrooms and bathroom, the boys had been to the place when they
were little, but hardly remembered it, so we wandered, found the pool, the play
area, the tennis courts, the shop and the pub. I could see the kids on the park
from our private decking. I finally had some alone time to sit and think. No
phone signal. Just me, a chair, the sun and a cup of tea. This was
the first of many times I cried that week.
The others arrived and settled in, I was worried that a whole week (well not
quite a whole week, we’d only managed to book 3 nights and planned on staying
in a cheap hotel for night 4) with the sister i didn't get on with, would result in me killing her. I
really despised her, she’d spent her adult years disapproving of everything I
did and even calling social services on me. Mum and dad were fed up of all the
bickering, so I’d promised myself I would let her tutting and snide
comments ride over me. To my surprise
most of the week she was great.
I took the kids out on my own, to an amazing place, a woodland with walkways,
ladders, ropes, slides, tunnels and bridges, a specially designed back to
nature play place. We spent the whole day there, it was a warm day, perfect to
be outdoors, the kids played together beautifully (for most of the day), I
pushed them on swings, watched as they climbed higher into the trees, helping
their sister to keep up with them. It was grounding to be somewhere like that,
to hear children’s laughter, to sit and watch. The problems in my life
disappeared for a day, no phone signal helped, it meant I was fully focussed on
my kids. We’d got plans to spend lots of time with my family, so it was lovely
to have this day together. My lads were
growing up so fast, the oldest was now taller than me, he was so bright, knew lots
about science and how things work. He
always had a book with him, or in my handbag.
He played brilliantly with the others, managing a whole day without
becoming overwhelmed. My middle boy was a
climber, everytime I looked around he was up a tree or
balancing on something high up, he loved anything active as well as drawing. My princess was getting big enough to be
independent, but not quite physically big enough, so she was frustrated that
she couldn’t do everything without help.
The boys had gone off to play on the death slides, whilst she played
in an area specifically for the younger ones, she soon made a friend and I
chatted with the little girls mum. Talking about Home Ed and life, she told me
how amazed she was at how sociable my children were! After nearly 5 years of
Home Ed I was used to these kind of remarks. She came out with all the usual
questions: ‘so are you a teacher?’ ‘How do you know what to teach?’ ‘Are you
checked up on?’ ‘How can they get a job?’ and ‘is it legal?’. I swear one day I might say ‘no it’s illegal
and they are locked under the stairs all the time’. If people knew Home Ed was a legal option
when they start considering their childs education, I am sure more people would
choose Home Education. Home Ed for us
was about letting the kids follow their interests, to learn what they want to.
Whilst encouraging the maths and sciences.
We didn’t follow a curriculum, or do more than a couple of hours a week
of ‘work’. We’d sit to the table a
couple of times a week, grab a workbook and learn about reflections, or pi, or
how the heart works, or long division.
But this kind of work didn’t really suit any of us. We much preferred to explore a castle and
cover everything you can imagine and more.
Often a trip to the museum could result in conversations from taxidermy
to the coal mines, from vintage cars to the local football team.
The bonus of Home Ed meant we could spend this week on holiday, making memories
with my family and not worry about schooling. We spent a day at the beach, the
kids running and playing, mum sat quietly watching them all. Dad was trying to
run about and play Frisbee but it was clear he was struggling, his legs were
not good, they often wouldn’t move how he needed/wanted them to, but he would
never admit that he couldn’t do it, or that he shouldn’t be. The sun was out, my sisters were being nice,
it was lovely.
In years gone by I’d walked the main street heading away from the seafront, either with my parents or with a
partner. It held some special memories.
There was a jewelers, a little shop, in amongst the tourist shops selling
tshirts and rock. This little jewellers had caught my eye many years ago. My
mum had inherited my grandma’s (dad’s mum) Royal Doulton figurines, they
weren’t really to mums taste, but for some reason they meant a lot to me, a
link to my grandma I guess, so many years ago mum asked if I wanted them, they
were in my parents will as being something I would get anyway. So I’d agreed
and they’ve been in a display cabinet ever since. When I received a little money from my
granddads will it had seemed right to buy two more figurines. And when I’d come
across this little jewellers they’d sold some lovely figurines, the first time
it was my birthday and I’d come on holiday with some money with orders to buy
myself something. So I did. The
figurines were a little more modern than the Royal Doulton, rather normal I
guess when compared to the punk fairies I had in the house. But I liked them.
So everytime I’d been there I’d bought a new figure, or mum would bring me one
home after they’d visited. So I asked
mum if she wanted to go for a walk, we left the kids on the beach with the
others and off we went. Too busy chatting
to notice we’d missed the beginning of the street, ending up outside an amazing
building, an old theatre, now boarded up.
We went for a cuppa and I talked to mum, all about the things that are
important to me, about what makes me tick, it was like the first time she’d
ever shown an interest, she wanted to know why I’d took such a liking to the
old building. I told her how I love
history, I love places with a story to tell, how I’d love to own my own
business that the kids could be part of, a life together, learning together,
living together, experiencing life together. This seemed like an alien concept
to her, but she listened, and asked loads of questions. She asked about why I’d struggled to settle
down. I explained how what I considered settling down was not the same as hers.
I was settled, I explained that I’d had my house 15 years, I’d kept myself
financially stable, I was bringing the kids up in the ways I believed in. This is when she told me she was proud of
what I had achieved, how she thought I’d done a brilliant job with the kids and
that 3 kids on my own was an amazing thing to do. That she was proud I stood for
what I believed in.
The familiar sound of the door chime
was bitter sweet, the familiar smell of the shop, the same staff from years ago,
it was all the same, but knowing the next time I come here, if I ever do, will
never be the same, there’ll be no phone call to mum to ask which figurine she
liked the sound of most, no phone call saying ‘muuuum, you know it’s my
birthday soon…..’ The old lady recognised me straight away, such a lovely lady,
she saw my mums head scarf and enquired as to how she was doing, I shook my
head, not wanting to say out loud that we were on limited time now. She put her
hand on mine and gave me a knowing smile. She helped us pick a beautiful
figure, an elegant lady in 1920’s dress sat on an elegant chair, looking like
she was in deep thought. Perfect. She tied in with the building we’d seen
earlier too. We started chatting and I told
the lady about the building, she told me all about how her and her girlfriends
had moved to the area from London and were the only ones to fully glam
themselves up. She says she was very much like me, not necessarily the rainbow
hair, but she would wear the fanciest hats and gorgeous dresses, people would
stare at her because they were more casual than her and her friends. She told me how she had been to see films
there and been to dances and how it was such a shame that the building was
becoming derelict. We left the shop with
smiles on our faces, the lady touched my hand again and told me to stay strong.
We had lots of fun that week, lots of
it relaxed and taking the time to be with each other. We planned a BBQ at the log cabin, when we
arrived my mum was filling water bombs, the kids, my dad and my sisters were
planning on a water fight. It was great to hear the squeals and laughter as
they chased each other around, dad joining in the best he could, determined not
to let his physical limitations stop him.
Dad pretty much used his electric scooter most of the time now, his legs
were constantly stiff and he was in constant pain, not that he ever let any of
the grandkids know as they climbed all over him, or jumped up and down on his
knee, or like this evening as he ran after them throwing water balloons at
them. Mum was tired and needed to have
a lay down, she’d had a busy day out with my dad and sisters, so she went to
her room, the rest of us forgetting for a while that we were here together to
live out mums last days, maybe weeks with her.
My sisters were re-living their youth and attempting the lifts from rock
and roll dancing they'd been able to do many years previous, all of us rolling on the floor with laughter at their
attempts. 2 women in their 30’s
attempting to do what they did successfully at 10 and 7 years old was just too
funny, so for a while we forgot and we laughed.
That night, once back at our apartment,
once the kids were asleep, I cried, sobbed in fact, looking out at a place that
held so many wonderful memories, knowing this would be the last time my mum
would ever be here, the last time she would have felt sand between her toes,
knowing it was the last water fight she’d be part of, the last time she would
see all her grandkids in one place, the last time ….. so many last times and I
didn’t want to believe this was really happening.
We enjoyed the rest of the holiday; we
stayed somewhere else for the last night, as the apartment had not been
available at short notice, but we still met up with mum and dad at a Roman Fort
on the last day, the boys showing their enthusiasm for history, me trying
desperately to make sure the kids were left with as many memories as possible
of their grandma. The only grandma they had.
The boys paternal grandparents hadn’t seen them in 10 years, my
daughters paternal grandparents had never made any attempts to even meet
her. So my parents were all they had,
and they were losing one of them. The
drive home was awful, I wanted to cry, but knowing the kids had already seen me
be so upset, so much, I was starting to not show my tears as much in front of
them, really worried that I would cause them to worry more than necessary. I
was trying to protect them.
Once home, we were disgusted at the mess we found, we’d left the neighbour
looking in on Jack the cat, the house was filthy, cat poo on the floor, full
litter box and a house full of flies. To
make it worse a parcel had been delivered and the contents had leaked all over
my floor, the contents were ingredients for making soap, so they were slippy.
As I carried a suitcase through, I slipped and fell flat on my back. Injuring
my already weak ankle. It took hours to
clean the house and kill all the flies. It was also clear that the cat was more
ill than when we’d left him. We’d been
worried that the tumour in his eye would get worse, and it had. His eye was
pretty much closed and whilst he was happy to see us, he was withdrawn and not
wanting cuddles as much.
Once home, unpacked and I’d sorted the house out I text James to let him know I
was home. He was due to visit, I was
looking forward to seeing him, I wanted to be held in his strong arms, to cry
onto his shoulder, to feel him rub my head and hold me till I slept. I needed to be with the man that loved me
unconditionally. But I didn’t hear from
him, I assumed he was on his way to mine, but he didn’t arrive. I was busy with
the kids, so it was late when I messaged to ask if his train was delayed, I did
not expect the response I got. A text telling me he wasn’t coming to visit,
that in fact he wasn’t ever coming again, that we were over.
I tried ringing him, texting him and ringing him again, but he wouldn’t answer,
it made no sense, I rang our mutual friend and asked if she knew what was happening, she
was as surprised as me. I didn’t understand what had happened, I knew we’d had
a rough few weeks, I knew not having a phone signal whilst on holiday was
annoying for us both, but I hadn’t imagined it would end up with us splitting
up. Eventually he called me, he couldn’t
give me any more of an explanation other than he didn’t feel the same any
more. How you can suddenly stop loving
someone I do not know. I’m not convinced, even now, that that was the case. I
think he got scared, my mum was dying, he wanted to be there for me, we wanted
to be together, but he had his children, his work, his life in London, I think
he was torn, he couldn’t decide what he wanted to do. So instead of, in his
eyes, letting someone down, either me by not being here for me, by not moving
here, or his kids, by moving away and not being there as much as they were used
to, he decided to end things with me. He
couldn’t have picked a worse time, but then I guess the timing was part of it,
he lost his mum when he was only a teen, this was probably too much for him.
I tried for ages to change his mind, but he was determined, he even claimed
he’d tried ringing me to explain, I’d had no such a call. Our friends tried talking to him, but it was
over. I was back to being on my own,
with my kids, going through some awful times.
The day came where I had to sit the kids down and explain that Jack the cat
would need to be put to sleep, the vet had already explained that the tumour
would not kill him, but it would make him very sad and in pain. It was clear
now that Jack was not his usual happy self.
He rarely came for a cuddle and had started hiding on a shelf in the
kitchen, one he’d never bothered with before. The kids were devastated, Jack was the sweetest cat, he would sit for
hours asleep on your knee, he would nuzzle in under your arm, rubbing the top
of his head on your hand to say ‘come on stroke me’. He’d never been the healthiest of cats,
rescued as an already old man, probably aged 10 from a sanctuary, he was
scrawny and had a skin condition, with much love he had certainly been happy
for the last 6 years, joining us whilst I was pregnant with our princess. The time had come to say good bye, my uncle
was staying up here to spend some time with my mum, but she was having some
platelets at the clinic, so dad and my uncle came here, the boys wanted to stay
at home. My princess, was only 6 but adamant
that she wanted to be with me and Jack.
Jack had been livelier than the last few weeks, making sure he had lots
of cuddles with everyone. He must have known.
At the vets she stood on a tall stool to the table, she rubbed Jack’s
head and cuddled him as he was given the injection, he closed his eyes and fell
asleep forever. My princess was so brave and strong.
Even once home she helped bury him in the garden under the tree.
It was becoming obvious that
the kids were coping or not coping in their own particular ways. My princess cried a lot, she was throwing tantrums
a lot too. My middle boy was mostly angry, at everything,
he’d been stealing from my purse again, eating his friends sweets, sneaking his
phone into his bed at night, defying our usual basic rules, answering me back
and storming off if he had to be told off for something, which at the time was
usually for winding his sister up on purpose. My eldest was just plodding on as usual, his lack of emotion i put down to having aspergers.
Mum was deteriorating, less than
a week after losing Jack, my sister, had planned a surprise for
her. We were all meeting at an airfield,
where mum was going to fly a glider, she’d always wanted to have a go and now
she had the chance. We were worried she
wasn’t going to be well enough, because she’d been sick quite a bit in the last
week, and also now refusing to go to the hospital for more platelets. It took some doing to get it out of her, but
late one night she broke down on my dad, crying, explaining that all the people
at the clinic were getting better, she was the only one with limited time left,
she couldn’t put herself through it anymore so decided to not attend clinic anymore.
We all drove over to the airfield and were there waiting for her to arrive. She
clearly was excited at the idea, the preparations were made, a parachute strapped to her back (just
in case), we all stood and watched as she climbed into the small glider plane,
the pilot, a lovely man, talking her through all the controls, he asked if
she’d like to have a go at flying it whilst up there, of course she wanted to,
was the reply. Whilst she was preparing
to go, we saw another plane go up, winched along the airfield until the wind gets
under the wings and lifts it, in a near vertical climb, until the winch is
released and the plane glides in the thermals.
The planes we’d seen only stayed up for 10 minutes at the most, this was
pretty usual we were told. What we didn’t expect was
that mum was up there for nearly 50 minutes, we watched as they were winched up
and released, watching as the plane went so high it was merely a spot in the
sky. We lost track of her for some
time. She was clearly having a good
time, the pilot aware of her situation had clearly done his best to keep the
plane up in the sky to give her the time of her life. When she finally came in to land, she was
smiling, such a huge smile. She’d loved it.
The flight was on the weekend, we saw
mum again on the Tuesday, she was tired, really tired, she took herself off to
bed without even saying so, so we came home.
She’d not been too interested in anything, I just put it down to
exhaustion from the weekend. It was my lads 10th birthday on the
Thursday, we had a lovely day, we went
to the cinema and had some friends over for food. The kids were all in bed,
settling down for the night when the phone rang, it was dad, he was really
worried about mum, she was not making sense, she was acting scared and
bewildered when she woke up but then would fall asleep again. He’d already rang my sisters, both were on
their way over, but with one an hour away and the other 3 hours away, I could
get there in 15 minutes. I asked my neighbour to stay with the kids and I went
straight over. Mum was in her bed
asleep, dad sat at the side of her holding her hand. I stood for ages in the doorway, mouthing
things to dad, we didn’t want to disturb her, he told me to sit down on the
edge of the bed. He was clearly scared,
so I held his hand. I had absolutely no idea what to do. So we just sat
silently, mum stirred and looked at me, a little surprised but very aware of
where she was and who I was ‘what the bugger are you doing here? Sod off home
to your kids’ was what she said to me, actually that’s the last thing she ever
said to me. My sister’s arrived, again
like me, not knowing what to do, we decided that I may as well go home, as the
neighbour couldn’t stay at mine all night and it was now midnight.
I spoke with my sisters the following
day, mum had woken up quite bright, she had a shower and made it downstairs,
even managing to sit in the garden for a little while, but then she
deteriorated fast, so much so that they
had to get my dad’s wheelchair, put her in it and get a neighbour to help them
carry her upstairs in it, they put her
to bed on the Friday afternoon. Dad hardly moved from her side, a sister laying
at the other side. The other sister had also had to
go home, but on the Saturday we both went back, spending the whole day there.
When we arrived, mum was asleep, she had barely stirred since she was put to
bed the day before. Dad sat on a stool
at her side, my sister sat to the other side, me and my other sister sat on the edge of the
bed, we stayed their silently for some time. Mum’s breathing was heavy, taking
in occasional large breaths but then waiting a few seconds before releasing the
breath. The time to release the breath was getting longer and longer and numerous times we
thought that that had been her last breath, but then she would breath again. She only stirred when one of the
grandchildren came into the room. She
made such an effort to open her eyes and speak to them, each kid had a few
seconds of her, she thanked them for the picture they’d brought her, or she was
tell them something was wonderful. She only managed it once per kid, but she
did it for all of them.
We spent the full day there, from early
morning, taking it in turns sitting with her, making dad take some breaks. People popped in, cousins and neighbours, non
staying too long, each just wanting to let us know they were there for us
should we need them. Dad’s sister stayed
with us all day too. She was a rock for
my dad. Unfortunately my sisters both
seemed to forget that their children were there, the girls were being loud and
annoying my boys, they were doing their best to stop the girls being loud but
it wasn’t working. Dad snapped at me a
couple of times, telling me to go and sort the kids out, I was really annoyed
that automatically it was assumed it was my kids being naughty, when in fact it
was my nieces, they were nipping my boys, jumping on them and chasing aftermy daughter when all she wanted was to be left alone. I went out to the kids in the garden and
warned them all to shut up and start to behave, I am sure that the first time
any of my nieces had been told off by me, it felt awful, but I wanted to be
with mum, not looking after children that weren’t mine. It was clear my kids were very independent,
they’d helped each other, made drinks for the little ones, not kept asking for
things, they’d just got on with things.
Mum kept stirring, moaning as if she was in pain, rubbing her stomach, but then
quickly settling back into sleep again, apart from opening her eyes and
speaking to each of the grand kids, she didn’t wake properly all day. We’d all sat there, in her room, holding her
hand, holding dad’s hand, in silence. Other times we’d talked about something
funny, a memory we were going to be holding on to. It seemed everyone had given up though and
they were now waiting for mum to do the same.
It was clear that my sister thought she was in charge, that she knew what
dad needed, what mum needed! We’d
already had a text argument the night before, me and my other sister told her that she was trying to take over and was pushing us out. She hadn’t taken it too
well either, so there was tension in the air, we barely spoke to each other.
Which was fine with me, afterall we’d never really got on that well, she was
very opinionated and quick to judge and tut at something she didn’t like, my
hair colour, my dress, the kids, the house, anything at all to be honest. Since she’d called social services on me
she’d done nothing to make it up to me, it was clear that she did not feel bad
about it at all. My mum’s sister, my
aunty, had died only 2 months previous and at the funeral my so called sister had laughed
and told my cousin how she thought it was funny that she’d called social
services on me, that she hoped our cousin didn’t bring her children up in the
same way as me.
The atmosphere was tense, but I wanted to be there for mum and dad. It was getting late, my nieces were due to be
collected by their fathers for the night. I was left not knowing what to do,
there were 4 of us, my 2 sisters, dad and of course mum, and only 2 beds. It was made very clear by my sister that she was
having the sofa, and that there was no room for us to sleep there. I didn’t
want to go home though, I wanted to stay, wanted to be there for mum. I couldn’t decide what to do, no one else was
doing anything to help me figure out a way we could all stay, the only
suggestion was ‘could one of your friends have the kids?’ why on earth would I
get rid of my children? I wanted them close, they deserved to be near me at a
time like this. So reluctantly we made
the decision we would go home. My daughter sobbed, downright refusing to leave, she wanted to stay, but I knew we weren’t
welcome, I knew we had to go home, no matter how much we wanted to stay. I had
to physically make her leave the house, it was so heartbreaking to do it.
Before we left, there’d been a discussion, a discussion about making mum more
comfortable and possibly helping her leave us.
That was the most surreal conversation I’ve ever been part of. My sister explained how she’d seen many times before, as she was a paramedic, where
nurses had been called to give morphine, the maximum dose allowed, even though
the patient didn’t necessarily need such a high dose, it helped shut the body
down. Helped people on their way, so
they weren’t left to deteriorate, to avoid the organ failures, the possible
fits and heart attacks. The possibilities were not something any of us wanted
to experience, mum was content in her sleep, that was the way she should leave
us. We made the call and soon 2
district nurses came out, it seemed they knew what we were asking for, they
gave mum an injection and told us that they would be back in 4 hours to do
another. Not long after the first
injection we left. I cried the whole
drive home, the kids pretty quiet, we went
straight to bed, I knew that was the last time I would see my mum, that I would
never speak with her again, that I would never be able to ring dad and say ‘is
mum there? I need to ask her something’
I’d never be able to call in whilst over that way and disturb her on her
lunch break at work to show her some awesome thing we’d found, or for the kids
to tell her about somewhere we’d been,
or to say ‘mum’ in that tone only a daughter after something can do,
‘you know that thing? Well I can’t quite afford it’ knowing she’d help me out a
little. It’d been 15 years since dad had
started on the antidepressants, looney pills as we called them, he wasn’t
capable of the same in depth conversations, he didn’t have it in him to be
worried/interested/passionate about the same things as mum and me. Even though mum didn’t agree or understand a
lot of my life, she had agreed that home ed was great for the kids, even if she
had started to worry they weren’t doing enough ‘school work’. Whilst in hospital she’d promised the kids
she’d spend more time with them, become more involved in their learning,
unfortunately that was never to be, the kids will never hear her stories,
they’ll never be able to ring her and ask her to help solve a maths problem,
she was always the one person that would know the answer.
The phone rang at 8.15am, I was awake but not out of bed yet. It was dad, he
was quiet and he just said ‘she’s gone’, I’m sure he said other stuff but I
wasn’t listening. I’ve never heard him
so quiet and to be honest it was as if he was on autopilot and that he wasn’t
there at all. Within half an hour, I’d
got all the kids up and dressed, food in hand, bag of toys packed and arrived
at my parents house. Dad was sat in the
garden staring into space, one sister was in with mum and the other was pottering
about. Once my sister came downstairs, I went and stood in the doorway to mum’s room not knowing if to go in and say goodbye, not
knowing if I wanted that memory. I’d never seen a dead person before, I wasn’t
sure that I wanted my mum to be the first.
I regret this now, not taking a bit more time to think about what I
wanted, but I opened the door and stepped in, she looked awful, she’d been laid
out, so only her head was out of the duvet, but she was purple, her eyes and
much of her face was bruised, she looked so so tiny. I was only in the room a
second I just couldn’t stay, I felt sick, I ran into what was once my bedroom
and I cried, I sobbed, what the hell was I meant to be feeling, what was I
meant to be doing? I took a minute to try and stop feeling sick, walked back
across the landing, pulled the bedroom door shut fully and put the wash basket
in front of the door, the last thing I wanted was one of my kids going in and
seeing their grandma like that. I whispered ‘goodbye, I love you’ and went
downstairs. I sat with dad and we held hands in silence.
The mornings were filled with animal fights, chickens pitted against lions, crocodiles against bears etc. In the afternoons the people would have been there all day, having eaten, played games, even had their hair done whilst sat surrounded by marble, the afternoons were the exciting part, the gladiators would fight. By now the kids were getting tired but Chiarra was amazing. She kept them enthralled with the stories. We then travelled by special access lift to the first floor, open to the public, and walked a quarter of the way around to a set of stairs, at this point Chiarra offered to take the children up to the third level as I was not able to go up those stairs and no lift was available. 
