Post 23: Miss you, Mum.
Vital statistics:
Temp: perfect 36.1 
BP: 117/78/49
Weight: too much chocolate 
Hair: in a mess
Anything else? Reflective and emotional
—
After yawning and hearing the birdsong from the bedroom window, I turn over and see the vision of loveliness beside me. My Darling is still asleep, so I use all my powers of stealth to lean away and grab my phone, catching up with the forever-whirring world outside without disturbing her rest.
She rolls over, and I instantly turn into a statue, trying my best not to wake her.
She deserves all the rest she can get. It’s been tough on her lately—and today especially, and just because I can—I’ll dedicate my whole being to helping out and making her day easier, not harder like usual.
I look at the smartwatch on my wrist and press the face gently. Up pops my heart rate monitor: 42–82 BPM overnight. I smile inside and out at the news. I mentally pat myself on the back for the self-administered doubling of my 1.25mg beta-blocking pill to calm the heart after another AFib event the night before.
It worked.
Give it another few days and I’ll taper it down again and see how I go. At least my heart’s had a little rest—and I’m delighted.
I’ve nothing to do today, so I’ve got space in my head for other things. Time will tell what things, but I hope some of it will be fun and non-medical for a change. We need a break.
It’s a good start to the day.
—
White Rabbits.
Pinch, punch, first of the month.
Another new month to look forward to.
May Day conjures up memories of primary school celebrations—Maypole dancing and some sort of special lunch, usually led by the school’s vicar. Seems weird really as it’s not a religious event really, more seasonal.
Back then when I were a lad, on TV, there’d be footage of the show of force outside the Kremlin, with thousands of foot soldiers goose-stepping past the Soviet leaders and hundreds of tanks and the odd missile or three. All very Cold War, obviously, but it sticks in my mind.
My mind is in neutral, which is a nice change, and now I’m humming a Boney M track that’s popped into my head:
“Oh those Russians…”
If you’re not of my Class of 1980, it might have passed you by.
Ra Ra Rasputin (1978).
Funny how my mind works.
It’s also funny how those “new month” sayings stick around. My mum always used to say “white rabbits” when we were kids. Later, she moved with the times and would call or text us instead in the same manner. It was her thing—and although we groaned about it as kids and adults, I think we all miss it now.
Bless her.
As I’ve said before, it’s coming up to three years since she passed away in that nursing home she loved so much. How she made it to her 80th birthday—a few months before she succumbed to her third cancer—I’ll never know.
Her tenacity and love of life were remarkable, especially considering her body had started to fail years before. I’m sure it was her sheer ignorance of how bad things were that kept her so contented for so long. That and eating every scrap she was given… very slowly I might add. 
What a trooper.
Due to a complicated family issue (I’ve no want to go into here) our dear mum’s remains are still here at home with My Darling and I. Their final destination is, thankfully, an issue I hope to resolve soon. My and my younger brother’s confidence in where she should finally rest happens to align perfectly with Mum’s original wishes. He’ll have a chat with Sis (if he remembers?), and if we all agree, we’ll lay her finally to rest in peace.
Sis, if you’re reading this, our brother’s chat is now academic—but I hope you like our plan. 
Give him a call if you don’t like it obviously. 
When Mum returned to the county of her birth, it was a joyful return. Although she’d been through her fair share of medical wars and bore more scars than we could count, she finally felt at home. It took a lot of effort from many people, but she herself chose and loved her “flat in the sky,” looking out to sea over the marina breakwaters.
The first time she saw the seals in the tidal pools below her balcony was the best day ever. A family of four back then—they were all she talked about. Being so high up, they looked tiny in the water, but when they sprawled on the low-tide mud, she could spot them easily. It was such a boost for any loneliness she might’ve felt when we—her kids and grandkids—weren’t visiting.
To Mum, this was her new family.
Although the seals weren’t always there, there was always something to see.
The marina’s lock gates were nearby, and all you could see of the boats using them were their masts—if they had one. But once they chugged around the breakwater arm, she had a full view.
She loved watching the fishing boats head out early in the morning, and she’d imagine their catches on the way back in. Pleasure boats of every kind came and went the same way.
But there was one boat that was very special to her.
So special that, one fine day, Sis and Bro-in-law took Mum out to see it—yes, on it. It was an open day, and unless there was an emergency call-out, that very smart blue-and-orange lifeboat was all hers to explore.
What made the day even more special was that, because of Mum’s difficulty walking, the lifeboat crew carried her on and off.
From that moment on, all we heard about were the “strapping men” and “how kind they were.” We never heard the end of it.
While Mum lived at Harbour Heights, she idolised those brave men and their beautiful—and beautifully capable—boat.
So, Sis, it will be no surprise when I suggest that those brave boys be the ones to return Mum to the sea she loved so much.
I’m sorry—I’ve lost the screen. I’m suddenly struck by emotion.
I’ll leave today’s blog here.
Bye for today.
Love you, Sis.
Love you, Bro.
My Darling and I miss you, Mum…
