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
tetheredinthedeepend 
I’m sorry you lost your mother. I can’t imagine.
As a mother your mom’s age when she passed, I think leaving my children behind, knowing how hard they will grieve, would be the hardest thing about facing my own death.
Your description of your mother’s death and your feelings made me weep. I know going through that would be torture for my children, especially my daughter.
When my father died he should have had adequate pain relief. I’ve been with multiple dying people and know what that looks like versus a person dying in pain. Unfortunately my stepmother would not keep him adequately medicated because she wanted him to recognize and acknowledge her. She lied to me about listening to me about how pain management works and keeping his doses up and on time. I knew she lied when I found him deceased and he’d bitten the end of his tongue off. He’d been writhing and spasming as she slept in the same room. Dying in pain was his only fear about dying.
I never said anything to her because she was grieving and there was no point. While I wished I’d not believed her and monitored them more closely, I’ve never felt responsible. She was his wife, he chose her, and he made her number one in charge of his care, so he lived and died with the consequences. I know I tried to help him and did the best I could under the circumstances (respecting their marital relationship). I feel bad for him, but not responsible.
You are still grieving, and you’re right, one day feels okay and then suddenly you feel like you hit a brick wall. Grief is like that as you go through it. Eventually the brick wall feelings become less frequent until one day you suddenly realize you’ve not had one for a long time. I hope you have a support system, grief counseling, to help you process your feelings about your mum, you, your relationship, losing her so young, and how she died. It will help you through the process to a healthy healing.
Best wishes to you
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I’m so sorry for your loss. There is no easy way to go but that is awful. I hope you take comfort in the knowledge that your father is in peace.
I’m getting there slowly, day by day. Some days are easier than others. Mothers day was difficult and I know there will days that will be hard for no reason at all. It will take time and I know I will never really get over her loss. I will just learn to deal with it.
Sending hugs to you. Thank you for for kind words xx
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