The Beast

2 minute read time.

My mum was diagnosed last November with a primary Brain Tumour, GBM IV, there is no cure. She had some radiotherapy treatment over Christmas with little effect. At some point of this journey we had hoped she could carve a little bit of life out for herself before slipping away, you see she spent nearly 12 years caring for my Dad who has Alzeheimers, she put everything into making sure he was okay. Even when she felt something wasnt right with herself, she made sure she found a good nursing home for him first. The hope was that now he was in a home, she would be able to focus on herself, enjoy pottering or meeting a friend for coffee, spending time with the grandchildren, just simple pleasures, nothing too crazy! Unfortunately life didn't grant us this. My mum now lives in a nursing home, needing 24hours support, she is confused and has Dysphasia, she is tired and basically wants to be taken away from this planet quietly and peacefully, she is ready to go. If she can't be here as herself then I guess she doesn't want to be here at all. Of course I would like her here for another 10 years, but not like this.... Our saving grace is she is in no pain.

I wrote this poem, when we went from thinking my mum could move into a sheltered accomodation in one week realising that this would not be possible, she had deteriorated very rapidly that week. This was one of the lower points so far. Its not all been doom and gloom, there have been some laughs in between, plenty of flowers, quiet moments and most importantly a lot of love, that's what keeps me going.

 

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The Beast

The beast has taken hold, making its presence felt

Twisting a different journey to the one I had imagined.

I had hope, hope that we could drink coffee in the park, have family dinners, take a short walk to a bench, just sit there and enjoy the day, the birds singing, the people passing; the sun beaming down on our faces, but the beast fooled me. Made me think for a quick second these were possibilities, how wrong. Instead it leaves us with moments by the bedside, I bring the outside in by supplying flowers, bring you lavender to put under your pillow, I have to bring those moments to you. We share conversations that go nowhere, you struggle with the words, I see frustration in your eyes, the beast again making it’s presence felt.

Oh how I love you, it hurts so much but yet I am too at the beast’s mercy, it dictates what happens next, we just go along with the ride, helpless and knowing the journey takes us to one inevitable place.

 

 

Anonymous
  • FormerMember
    FormerMember

    Hello Fionn,

    our scenarios sound very similar indeed. My mother passed away very peacefully on the 16th June 2010, I was there with her holding her hand, she really did slip away in the most calm and peaceful way.

    I miss her terribly, but I feel comforted that she is no longer sufferering.

    The symptons you describe are very similar to my Mums, she lost the ability to speak, walk, write also, very painful to watch.

    I do have alot of good people around me who have been wonderful in supporting me, I have returned to work this week, I have my son also and you know life really does go on. It comes in waves, I have moments where it dawns on me that she really is gone and is not coming back and the saddness overwhelms me, perhaps these moments will never go away, but I too have had many moments of enjoyment and laughter too, surrounded by the love of my family and friends.

    I hope you are doing okay and that you too have a good support system around you, I wish you al the best on your journey

    Petrax