repiV
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As some of you may know, my mum was diagnosed with a gliblastoma grade IV brain tumour in October 2006. It's the most deadly form of cancer in existence, and terminal in virtually all cases. When she was diagnosed, the doctor gave her five months to live.
Generally speaking, she's done extremely well. Eighteen months is well above average survival time for this illness, and she's put on a brave face and kept a very positive attitude throughout.
In the last few months, however, her condition has gone rapidly downhill. She's lost most of her personality, can't really do anything except sleep and watch TV from the hospital bed we had installed in the lounge. Her ability to hold a conversation has been very limited for a while now.
I never expected it to be this sudden, though. At 5am yesterday morning she had a massive seizure that didn't stop for two hours. We were told that she was dying, and we stayed at the hospital all day yesterday. She was unconscious for the whole ten hours we were there, and looked in a really bad way. According to the doctor, she has days to live at most.
Today she was conscious some of the time, but only to the extent that she could recognise us and babble incoherently. And, for reasons I'm not quite clear on, they can't give her any fluids. She can't drink anything because she will choke and it will just collect around her lungs, and they can't give it to her via a drip because it would just clog up the veins and wouldn't do her any good. She's extremely dehydrated and it's horrible to witness. Every time she wakes up (for maybe 20 seconds at a time) she just wants water and complains of back pain.
I don't understand the science behind that at all, but you can't live without water, and realistically I don't think she's going to live past tomorrow or Monday at a stretch.
I'd been wanting to have a conversation with her about how much she meant to me and how much I appreciate everything she's done for us, but I was putting it off because I didn't know quite what to say or how to say it - and I didn't want to upset her, her way of dealing with her situation was to avoid talking or thinking about it and just get on with life. And I didn't really spend any time with her on Thursday because I was working all day and I wanted to finish reading Snow Crash afterwards. I was going to make up for it this weekend. And now I have no chance to.
She's a truly wonderful person, and is more important to me than anyone else on this earth. She sacrificed everything to look after us - my dad with multiple sclerosis, who she divorced 15 years ago but continued to care for, my brother with severe learning difficulties, and myself as until a few years ago I had very severe epilepsy and needed to be cared for constantly. She had no life for herself, but the cruel thing is that she was just getting in a position to be able to have her own life. She was going to be a legal secretary in the city, as she was many years ago, and I was going to pay for family holidays which we had never been able to afford in the past. Things were looking great. Then mere months later she got the bad news.
I was planning to do something very special for her birthday in June, I was expecting her to live another three months at least.
What I can't stand is that I'm not sitting here wrecked with grief and sadness. In some way, it's actually kind of a relief to finally have a resolution to the situation when this has been hanging over our heads for so long. I feel like I should be in terrible pain right now, but I'm not. Maybe it's because I've already gone through the grieving process and accepted things for what they are - the person I knew and loved left us quite some time ago.
Mostly I'm just terribly sorry for her, she lived a hard and stressful life devoted to making our lives better, and just when she was seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, it got cut off. I never got the chance to pay her back for everything she's done. She's only 51.
In honour of her memory, I intend to live the best damn life I possibly can and be the best person I can be, in order that her efforts were not in vain. Life sucks. And I'm dreading tomorrow.
Generally speaking, she's done extremely well. Eighteen months is well above average survival time for this illness, and she's put on a brave face and kept a very positive attitude throughout.
In the last few months, however, her condition has gone rapidly downhill. She's lost most of her personality, can't really do anything except sleep and watch TV from the hospital bed we had installed in the lounge. Her ability to hold a conversation has been very limited for a while now.
I never expected it to be this sudden, though. At 5am yesterday morning she had a massive seizure that didn't stop for two hours. We were told that she was dying, and we stayed at the hospital all day yesterday. She was unconscious for the whole ten hours we were there, and looked in a really bad way. According to the doctor, she has days to live at most.
Today she was conscious some of the time, but only to the extent that she could recognise us and babble incoherently. And, for reasons I'm not quite clear on, they can't give her any fluids. She can't drink anything because she will choke and it will just collect around her lungs, and they can't give it to her via a drip because it would just clog up the veins and wouldn't do her any good. She's extremely dehydrated and it's horrible to witness. Every time she wakes up (for maybe 20 seconds at a time) she just wants water and complains of back pain.
I don't understand the science behind that at all, but you can't live without water, and realistically I don't think she's going to live past tomorrow or Monday at a stretch.
I'd been wanting to have a conversation with her about how much she meant to me and how much I appreciate everything she's done for us, but I was putting it off because I didn't know quite what to say or how to say it - and I didn't want to upset her, her way of dealing with her situation was to avoid talking or thinking about it and just get on with life. And I didn't really spend any time with her on Thursday because I was working all day and I wanted to finish reading Snow Crash afterwards. I was going to make up for it this weekend. And now I have no chance to.
She's a truly wonderful person, and is more important to me than anyone else on this earth. She sacrificed everything to look after us - my dad with multiple sclerosis, who she divorced 15 years ago but continued to care for, my brother with severe learning difficulties, and myself as until a few years ago I had very severe epilepsy and needed to be cared for constantly. She had no life for herself, but the cruel thing is that she was just getting in a position to be able to have her own life. She was going to be a legal secretary in the city, as she was many years ago, and I was going to pay for family holidays which we had never been able to afford in the past. Things were looking great. Then mere months later she got the bad news.
I was planning to do something very special for her birthday in June, I was expecting her to live another three months at least.
What I can't stand is that I'm not sitting here wrecked with grief and sadness. In some way, it's actually kind of a relief to finally have a resolution to the situation when this has been hanging over our heads for so long. I feel like I should be in terrible pain right now, but I'm not. Maybe it's because I've already gone through the grieving process and accepted things for what they are - the person I knew and loved left us quite some time ago.
Mostly I'm just terribly sorry for her, she lived a hard and stressful life devoted to making our lives better, and just when she was seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, it got cut off. I never got the chance to pay her back for everything she's done. She's only 51.
In honour of her memory, I intend to live the best damn life I possibly can and be the best person I can be, in order that her efforts were not in vain. Life sucks. And I'm dreading tomorrow.