I got back from Scotland yesterday, having spent 5 days up there with my aunt and uncle. The weather had kept me from going up sooner and I really felt I had to get up there before I could take more steps forward. I didn't really know why I felt so strongly I had to get up there until I arrived and then I realised I thought I would feel nearer to mum.
Strangely once I was there I felt further away from mum and realised that I felt closer to her here at home where we had lived together for 20 years. I went to the Garden of Remembrance where both mums and dads ashes are scattered expecting to feel 'something' but I felt nothing, she wasn't there! As my dad had died in, what is now, my uncles house and I expected mum to be with him I thought I would feel closer to them both but I didn't. In fact I was no sooner there than I wanted to come back home!
I came back yesterday lunch time and immediately felt more settled. I got up this morning and felt quite steady. This is definitely where I belong. My bereavement counsellor was due at 10.30am so I rushed around with the hoover and the duster. When she came in I still felt quite steady and for the first 30 minutes or so I spoke about my thoughts about getting back to work, how a phased return might help and so on. I made no reference to mum at all but then, for some reason, she came into the conversation. Suddenly I was talking about her diagnosis, the lack of quality of life she had during treatment and the day she found out it was in her liver and there was nothing Dr Mehta could do. The tears came thick and fast. I questioned whether she should have had any treatment as she was never well even when the cancer had completely gone after the chemo. I questioned whether the RT had been a huge mistake as she had such an awful time from the day and hour she started it. I questioned whether I should have insisted on a scan sooner when there was obviously something wrong. If we'd asked for one sooner would they have been able to offer more chemo. Would I have wanted her to have more chemo as she hadn't really been well since diagnosis. I remembered, vividly, the day Dr Mehta told mum there was nothing more he could do. I could see her sat in her hospital chair after he left saying to me 'I think my number's up!' and then I saw the light going out in her eyes. Should I have asked him not to tell her? I saw her the following day sitting in the hospital chair looking broken and not speaking to me throughout the day. Was this when she gave up? Am I annoyed that she gave up fighting? No I don't think so as I wouldn't want her to suffer BUT why didn't I just ask him to let her think she would get better as this would have avoided the last 2 and a half weeks of her life being so sad for her. Then I think she probably knew anyway.
I thought I was beginning to cope better but I think I've just been avoiding the issues. I am still getting vivid pictures of my mum but none of them evoke happy memories. I see how unhappy she was in those final weeks, unable to even feed herself or lift a drink to her mouth. I see her looking so scared as I lifted her out of bed into her wheelchair. I feel how tightly she held onto me each time I got her up and how she always gave me a wee kiss. I just feel so sad that she went through all the chemo and RT to finish her life feeling so sad.
I can't wait for the day when the visions of my mum are filled with happy memories and I know those days will come but I just have to be patient and give myself time. So it seems, for now, I'm still on the rollercoaster. There is no doubt that it has slowed down but not quite enough to let me get off just yet.
