Mums journey started off when I was young - around 12 years old. The word cancer never meant anything to my little sister and I, and we were never associated with anyone who had the C word.
Everything was a blur through my mothers first diagnosis. I was young, and I believe it was hidden for a while to protect us as children. When it was explained, it was put across in a way that things weren't serious and doctors would make mum better and thing will be ok. She had been diagnosed with Breast Cancer.
At the time, as a child I never understood. To me, my mum was still my mum and she did everything as normal. Her support system was my grandad (her father) who was like a dad to me. He sat up with her all night stroking her head until she fell asleep. He got my sister and I up for school, he made our packed lunch, he stepped up and was her everything.
Things got better and Mum had rounds of chemo, radio therapy & she later had her breast removed. Everything was back to normal and we we're all fine... until three years on the cancer returned.
My grandad who was the most social man I have ever met, sadly had a stroke. He wasn't able to talk, walk, communicate or do absolutely anything for himself. He had to be fed and toileted which for him was the worst thing that could ever happen to this man who lived life to the full every day. My mums world was crushed. She had no support from my dad (her partner) and too young girls. She had devolved a very painful back, which she went back and forth to the doctors with, and it was put down for stress. For months doctors told my mother she was fine and there was nothing to worry about. Until she had a scan and we received the awful news AGAIN.
At this point I'm now 15, and finding out my mother has secondary bone and liver cancer which will never go away is awful, but still being very young and not really understanding, it wasn't the end of my world because in my mind - doctors could help! Things were slightly sugar coated by the family, and I got on with life.
Mum went through a lot of rounds of chemo, jumping from one to the next, with her liver being the main concern. She was so strong through the whole process. Not once did she moan. She got on with things, and had whatever the doctors could give her to extend her beautiful life.
My grandad passing took a huge effect on my mum, but it was his time to go. He hated the way things were for him after the stroke, and he was put out of his misery the day he passed away.
Now, three years down the line of the second diagnosis, I am sat next to my mums bed at a hospice, where I have no left for DAYS. I will sit here as long as I possibly can with her until she takes her last breath.
I know I seemed to have jumped a massive part of my journey, but reality is there was no inbetween part. My mother was well the whole time she had her cancer, until now. I will be writing a blog on this stage, and how delicate time is. I want to explain in a different way how things went down hill so quickly. This is just a rough first post written next to the hospital bed to kick start.
I hope someone will find comfort from my posts and experiences
