Hello all and my love and hugs to you all as we go into what looks like a very cold winter.
I just thought I'd give you an update on my mum as it's almost two months exactly (25th) since we found out that she has lung cancer.....seems like years ago. Having spent two weeks in our local general hospital including having a 5 unit blood transfusion, mum was transferred to our nearest hospice on Thursday for what they call 'symptom control and assesment'. It was a good day on Thursday - mum was excited and happy, and her spirits were up. So when I went in on Friday morning, I was shocked and upset to find a completely different scenario. I could tell immediately that she was in pain and indeed, she said that her chest had been painful all morning and she had a permanent headache. I pulled her forward gently to cuddle her and her back felt like it was on fire. It took every bit of strength and courage I could muster ten minutes later to not burst into huge loud sobs when two of the healthcare assistants lifted her on to the commode and I saw just how emaciated she has become since she stopped eating four weeks ago.
I kicked myself up the backside and said cheerily 'why don't I get you dressed up a bit a take you out for a walk mum?' She nodded and that's what I did and she cooled down and got a few minutes of fresh air....always helps I find. I came away from there feeling devastated - I feel like this awful disease plays tricks on you - one day you're up and the next two or three, down again. I know now that I need to take each day as it comes and not have expectations that are in any way raised or based on the previous day. It's really hard though because I want to bring my mum home for the couple of weeks leading up to Christmas - we're going to decorate her room and even get her a tree! But I can't allow myself to plan firmly for that just in case it doesn't happen.
Want to stand on a hilltop this morning and shout and swear loudly at no-one in particular, but thought I'd come on here and write instead...
Much love to you all,
Hannah xxxx
FormerMember
Hi Hannah,
I am so sorry that you are all going through such a rough time and can feel your frustration and grief. You have been marvellous throughout all this, strong, compassionate, loving and funny.
I can quite see why, but the sun has come out here, so you could do both. There's something wonderful about being on a hill in any weather with the wind blowing all your cares away. They come back soon enough, but the temporary exhilaration can be remembered.
You are wise to take things day to day for now, and I really hope that the hospice can come up with a good strategy to help her with the pain. I'm sure you did the right thing to take her for a breath of fresh air.
This is a good chance for you to do some more bonding with your mother. Get the family in on it as well, so that you can have some memorably happy times on her good days.
As a first response, this seems lamentably weak, but hopefully someone else will do a better one.
Hiya. I have been reading your blog for the last couple of weeks and strangely I thought about you this week whilst out walking my dog, I was so moved by your Mums story.
My Mum has just been diagnosed with small cell lung cancer and is undergoing treatment, which is seemingly quite positive at the moment and very different from your Mums experience. I just feel so sad that the experiences of the health service you and your Mum are experiencing are so dreadful. When you said in an earlier blog after nurses told you they had many patients to look after you said "....but I've only got 1 Mum" that really stuck with me.
This must be so difficult for you to deal with and my heart goes out to you so very much.
I hope to be around on the forum most days, certainly when I'm at work and get a few spare minutes, and if you feel like chatting or shouting or whatever then please message me.
My brother, my daughter and my mum's best friend and I went into see her this afternoon and my brother brought 'Frustration' with him - you know, the board game...we grew up playing it in our house, my mum loved it! I think she taught us how to enjoy playing a game without getting too hung up about getting jumped on and put back a few steps (bit like one of her lessons for life really).
Anyway, we took mum out for a little walk around the gardens - the hospice is just so beautiful and the grounds equally so, even in this season. Then we sat in the lounge there and played a game of 'Frustration' and my mum won. She was tired, but better than Friday, so I know that I really do have to take each day without expectation when I drive there to see her.
Simone - I'm so pleased for you that your mum is having the treatment and fighting the beast. My mum hasn't 'given up' by refusing to have treatment, but her disability has worn her down so much over the last couple of years and she neither has the strength nor inclination to fight any more - it's terribly sad for me to accept, but I have to bite my tongue and cry my tears when I'm not in her company. I love her very much and I respect that she has always been in control of her life as much as possible. I just get very overwhelmed with sadness two or three times a day.
I have learned so much about myself in these last two months, seen sides to me that I didn't know existed, but I'm glad they do. I am busy writing a story for my mum which includes some poetry and it's all about the wonderful things she has shown me and taught me during my lifetime - holidays we've been on, the difference between right and wrong and the fact that if I'd had any other mum, I may not have decided at 18 that I was capable of changing the world! (No harm in believing it at that age, it certainly didn't do me any!!!) I want her to know what a fantastic person she is and how she gave me the gift of common sense and humour, soooo necessary to get through life these days....
When it's done, I'll put it on here for you all to have a read - you can be my literary critics.
The story sounds like a really good idea. Its funny isn't it how situations like this make the day-to-day rush through life just suddenly stop. The plates stop spinning, the world seems to stop with a jolt, just for a second, and when it starts up again all priorities are in a different order.
