Mum xxx

I’m sitting here by my mums hospital bed, not knowing what to do or think or feel. It’s gone half past 9 and the other patients are slowly falling asleep. Mainly ladies of senior years, and then there’s my mum. This time last year, she was a 62 year old lady who was still very much active. Although cancer was prevalent in her body, she made sure she was the boss, not it.

So fast forward to a year later and here we are, me sitting with my mum in the very first hospital ward I ever worked on, in the same bay that my very first patient passed away in. How heartbreakingly poetic. Nursing someone when they’re palliative is never easy. It’s heart wrenching to see their families sit and hold their loved ones hand, knowing the slow agonising death is inevitable. And I here I am, doing the same with my own mother.

I can not describe what’s like to sit and watch someone you love suffer in agony. It’s like having someone peel off your skin, layer by layers and rub salt into the wounds. Every nasty word I’ve ever said, every argument, every shitty thing I’ve done to my mum is coming back to haunt me. I hope that I was a good daughter. I hope that my mum made into a good person. The one thing I want to do more than anything is out of my reach. It’s not in my power and it never was.

I hope I can do her proud. It kills me that she won’t be there if I ever get married. She won’t ever get to hold her grandchildren. All these things robbed because of a disease that doesn’t care who you are. No disease cares who you are, they’ll rob you blind of your dignity and your loved ones and all they’ll leave behind is the memory of the what was your loved one. The legacy of disease. It’s bitter and twisted, and it’s tearing up my soul.

It’s almost midnight. My mum can’t settle. She’s on so many painkillers she can’t form a sentence properly but she knows she’s still in pain. I’m helpless. All I can do is steal good moments of restfulness that she has and write about how this is absolutely stripping me of every fibre of my being. I don’t know what else to do. Watching someone you love, their body breaking down in front of you, painfully and slowly.

She left for the angels at half past 12 this morning. It feels like a kick in the gut. I can’t sleep because every time I close my eyes I can see the last few haunting moments. I don’t want to describe it because it’s too horrific. I don’t want it stuck in my head. I want to remember my mum as the kind, beautiful, brave amazing woman that everybody loved. Even till the end she fought like a hardened soldier. I’m hollow inside. All I want is to give her one last hug, one last cuddle and tell her I love her. I hope she knows. I hope she knows just how much I absolutely adored her and how my life will never be the same.

Good night, mum. Get some rest in heaven, I’ll see you again one day in the future. Just remember I love you and I’m so proud to be your daughter

Sharon xxx

Sleepless in North London

My mother is dying. Just typing that hurts so much, It’s like a punch in the gut. I can’t sleep. I’ve been awake since 5am and it’s now half past 12 the following morning and I can’t keep my eyes shut. Everything I think of is about my mum, how she nurtured me, cared for me, loved me unconditionally. The strong woman that raised me, is lying in a hospital bed and it’s hurts like hell.

Nothing I do will help. The worst part is seeing her in pain, struggling and just wishing I could ease it. I know she wants to go and I want her to be at peace but it’s my mum. I don’t know what’s worse, watching someone you love in pain and knowing the only way to ease it is the knowledge they won’t be with me anymore. I wish I could trade it. I wish I could take all the suffering she’s endured, the ops, the chemo, the undignified tests and the waiting around in hospitals for appointments. I wish I could take it all.

I’d take a snapshot and show people, this is what suffering is, this is what resilience and fight is. Not with any self pity or any complaining. I wish I had half the fight in my mother has. Even now, her body shutting down, she still refuses the slightest of help, even though she is most in need of it. That’s my mum, that’s what she is. She’s amazing and I’m dreading a life without her.

New year, same depression.

I’m running out of titles. How do I sum up what I’m trying to say with just a title?

Sometimes things just seem so futile.

It always boils down to how I let other people treat me. How I let them in and then let them trample all over my emotions like what their opinion is of me is relevant. Why do I do it???

Take depression. I opened up to someone who I’ve known for lets say most of last year. We became friends and I felt I could trust them. When I get down, I get really down. I don’t do it for sympathy or pity or attention. I do it, because it’s depression and I can’t cope with certain aspects of life. Sometimes it’s reading the stories of cancer survivors, and people who have been through such horrendous times that pull me up and make me carry on. Then I could read something so sad and so heartbreaking, it sends me back to bottom again. Something that makes me lose hope. Thats what my depression is to me in some ways. Losing hope that life won’t rip my heart out and tear it to shreds in front of me. Yes, life is tough. Shit happens and it happens to good people. I get that. Sometimes though, I just want to spare myself the anxiety and sleep it away.

I won’t lie. There are times, many times, where my appearance gets me down. It’s hard enough to be accepted into society where you stand out for looking different. I refuse to change how I look, but at the same time, there is a bitterness inside me that makes me angry. An anger that is hypocritical. I want to be accepted. I want to blend in and look normal. Sometimes I wish I didn’t have a birthmark. The one thing that makes me stand out above everything else. Sometimes I wish I could cover it. Then other times, I want to tell the judgmental world to go fuck itself. You want me to change and I won’t, just to piss you off. It’s complicated and it’s something unless you have a facial disfigurement or something that singles you out, you will never ever understand or fathom.

I tried to explain this to my friend. The one who didn’t understand depression. After trying to explain why I hated being single, his response was the usual trying to be positive and friendly. ‘Don’t worry, ugly people get married all the time. Besides it’s not what you look like, it’s what’s inside that counts’. THIS IS NOT HELPFUL. Being told ‘it’s what inside that counts’ is perhaps the most patronising thing you can ever ever say to someone. Seriously. Please. If you can’t think of something constructive, keep your gob well and truly shut.

And please, for the love of what ever you worship, don’t ever ever tell someone with depression to be happy. It’s the biggest no-no. If you don’t understand it, ask. If you don’t know what to say, listen. Don’t judge and don’t indulge in self pity. Everyone’s depression is different. Just be kind.