The Story Of A 29 Year Old British Girl Who Moved To LA To Make Her Dreams Come True; Only To Move Home To Care For Her Mother Diagnosed With Brain Cancer. Day-To-Day Thoughts, Updates, Love And Laughs (yes, I'm still allowed to laugh...)

Thursday, 26 December 2013

Christmas-Booze, Braids and Brain Tumors

Good evening dear readers,

I hope you had a great Christmas and you ate, drank and were merry.

I woke up on Christmas Day knowing I wanted to make this day great for Mum and for me. 
There was a thought the grazed my mind for a flash and then was gone. This thought that has been lingering for days and weeks has been held at bay and it is something simply too awful to utter.  Seeing my aunt speak of Christmas and my Mum's attempt at enthusiasm all reeked of this thought: that this Christmas would be my mother's last.

Disgusting and evil the thought, it would not enter my head this day. I wouldn't allow it.

I got up and made Mum breakfast in bed and proceeded to make sure Mum was looking great. Nails done, make up done and a beautiful green dress on. I got dressed and made sure I looked as though I actually made an effort.

Sometimes there is nothing more I like than to spend quality time getting dressed up, making the best out of yourself. Honestly, I'm pretty shit with makeup and hair and have never been a girl to mess with myself too much and falsify my look. I like the natural look, plus I have no idea about make up so I usually     end up looking like a clown if I try.
I can't remember the last time I had the luxury of, well, time-so I took Christmas as a great excuse.

We were going over to my Aunt and Uncle's house so I had made personalized gingerbread men and red velvet cupcakes and bought Champagne and vodka....I also prepped for the day by putting tinsel around M&M's cat who popped by.

We had a good time at my Aunt's and oh, how I have missed cocktails and just booze in general. 
I got Mum the most beautiful jumper I hope she wears.

Although overall, it was a great day, we ate, laughed and talked-something was desperately missing. 
As the days pass by I realize with such terrible sadness that parts of my Mum are missing. Her humor and quick wit remains, her pride is strong but delicate details and facets of her personality are gone or have faded. My mother would never have let me have a Christmas without a gift from her-this isn't about my need for something materialistic, it's about her care and love for me and putting me before anything like she always selflessly has. She would have thought it awful for me to wake up with no stocking and no present to open-that meant a lot to her to make me happy.
I'm happy with her, helping her-but seeing her not even registering that it was  odd I didn't have anything, was sad. She seemed somewhat confused by the day. She sat and laughed, but was more quiet than I've ever seen her. 

I know she knows what is happening but cannot articulate it. For example she will say to friends who visit,
"I have this thing with my head and they are we are going to the hospital doing the scan to fix it. It's bloody awful"
When in reality she has incurable brain tumors and is having radiotherapy to give her more time. 

She knows this, I know she is aware of the situation-the true gravity of the situation, but perhaps cannot articulate it. Or, perhaps, sometimes her brain does not connect words and thoughts correctly. 

I watch her sitting sometimes just gazing at something or going somewhere else in her mind and I wonder where she goes.

Don't get me wrong, my Mum isn't sitting staring into space all day dribbling in a chair! She is alert and talking and commenting and laughing but parts of the day-like on Christmas-I wonder how much she actually takes in and processes. She said she had a great day, we spoke all about family stories but there was a part of her missing-or perhaps she was just taking it all in.

There's time when I know she knows. I was exhausted one night and said,
"Are you ready to go to bed?"
She responded,
"It's only 10.30pm"
"You look tired, why don't you want to go to bed?" I asked
She quietly answered,
"Because I'm scared I won't wake up"

How, even if you had forever, could you prepare yourself to respond to a statement like that?

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