You may think my need to write or simply the fact I am writing at such a time is bizarre or even unfathomable-but it heals me, and helps me get through hour by hour.
By writing, I don't need to talk, I don't need to speak-I can ease myself through the minutes by filling a blank screen with words.
There was no sleep last night, after my aunt and uncle left. I slept next to mum as usual, made my make shift bed on the crash mat next to her hospital bed in the living room. The district nurses ended up coming out four times in the night (last visit at 7am) to administer anti-agitation medication and some morphine.
By writing, I don't need to talk, I don't need to speak-I can ease myself through the minutes by filling a blank screen with words.
There was no sleep last night, after my aunt and uncle left. I slept next to mum as usual, made my make shift bed on the crash mat next to her hospital bed in the living room. The district nurses ended up coming out four times in the night (last visit at 7am) to administer anti-agitation medication and some morphine.
The sounds that my mum is now making variate between whimpers and awful guttural cries. Listening to it is excruciating. I didn't sleep; I was either listening to her to make sure when her breathing stops it restarts, listening to her wails, calling the nurses out, or letting the nurses in.
Both the doctor and nurses say she isn't in pain, the noises are natural for end of life patients and more distressing for the relatives than the patients.
I'd rather feel the distress instead of my mum-but, it is horrific to hear and witness. Horrific.
It's gone 2am here and I've read your entire blog in one sitting. I heard about your mum's passing from a friend of mine earlier this evening (well yesterday now I suppose) and I just started searching.
ReplyDeleteYour mum was my teacher over 10 years ago when she lived near London (I always use that as a way to explain to foreigners where the town is too - so much easier!) and she's definitely not a teacher I will forget. On Wednesday I taught my own primary school class for the first time and the teachers I had in primary school, your mum definitely being one of the main ones, are a large part of the reason why I'm where I am now. I don't think she'd be surprised I ended up teaching, with my bossy tendencies(!) and I still remember "helping" her in the class. It's probably been nearly 10 years since I last saw her, at year 5 day at the secondary school. I had been out of primary school for at least a year, if not two, but she still remembered me and greeted me warmly as I always remember her being.
She always spoke fondly of you and I remember how nice you were on the occasions we met. Cancer is a horrific thing and I am so sorry for your loss but you have dealt with it amazingly and with such strength and bravery (whether you agree or not it's the truth). I don't know if I'd be able to do the same.
I know it is all still raw and it won't change anything but I just wanted you to know that so many people cared for your mum and she inspired generations, myself included. I'll never forget her nor how her saying things like "a wee bit" used to make our childish minds giggle. She will be missed.