My Mum first had breast cancer when I was 6 months old, she had a mastectomy and i can remember from an early age that she was just normal. Then in 2006 she was diagnosed with breast cancer on the other side. I was pregnant with my daughter at the time. Over the course of the next few years she had lumps removed, lymph nodes removed and finally a seceod mastectomy which she had wanted all along really "It will even me up" she use to joke.
Then at the start of 2010 she got a chesty cough which she was not able to get rid of. After a trip to the doctors and a chest xray, she was given the news that she had a small shadow on her lungs. The diaognosis wasn't good, there was nothing to be done. She was offered chemotheraphy which she refused immediately. She had seen my uncle very poorly and didn't want to go through the same as him.
In July 2010 she went and paid for her funeral so that it was all sorted and we wouldn't need to do anything. Truth be told I never really believed she would never get better. In my own little world she was going to be here for ever, see her grandchildren grow up, get married and have children of their own.
She seemed to be coping but in September I noticed a change in her. She stopped going to visit my sister in York, something she had done every week without fail for years. She started to get a nurse visiting every two weeks and had oxygen she could use 15 mins a day. The the lymphodema started in her right arm. It got so big, she couldn't move it, could write, couldn't use her arm and had to cut her clothes to fit round it. December came and she started to use a wheelchair to get around.
On 9th December she went to see my children in their Christmas concert. The school were amazing, arraning for her to have a front row seat in her wheelchair and making sure she was in before everyone else so she didn't have to wait around in the cold. She spent the whole time grinning from ear to ear, the pride in her grandchildren evident. Looking back, I realise now she had this day as her goal to reach as she couldn't fight any longer.
On 20th December she was given an oxygen machine to use constantly and the normal active mum I remember, always with a smile, wanting to help and make people feel at home in her house, looking after them, was gone forever. She spent most of the time sat in her chair and hardly ate a thing. I saw her on 22nd December when she still managed to organise my dad to give me the Christmas presents for my children - she even had a present ready for my daughter's birthday next August! I spoke to her on the phone on 23rd when she told me she was waiting for the nurse to come to attach a drip to her which would give her regular doses of medication. She sound very tired and weak.
The following morning I received a call from my dad to say mum was still breathing but hadn't woken up, the nurse had told him she could be like this from now until the end. I drove to York and brought my sister through and we spent the day talking to her, hoping she could hear us. My dad was insistant that we had a normal christmas day for our children and took my sister back while I stayed with mum and my auntie and grandma. Then I came home to do all the normal things you do on Christmas Eve with a 7 and 5 year old - hay out for reindeers, food and drink for santa, stockings up, tucked up in bed. I was just about to go to bed at 11.30pm that night when I received the call I had been dreading.
It was my dad and he just said "Andi, I'm so sorry but your mum's died"
