I will never forget certain dates of the year.
4 February 2012 - the day my mom was first admitted into hospital - G and I had gone to a braai all the way passed Tygervalley. G got a phone call and very gently told me my mom had phoned and asked if we could take her to hospital.
I tried very hard not to cry in front of my friends, but I knew in my heart of hearts that this was serious. It took us 40 minutes to get to her and she was very calm and dignified, not wanting a fuss made.
A side affect of the cancer was odema - water retension in overdrive which made her legs swell up like sausages and her tummy to balloon like she was pregnant, the water was building up in her chest and making it difficult to breath.
The previous week I had gone with her to have chemo and meet some of the doctor's looking after her, one of these doctor came and saw her in emergency and decided it was best to admit her into a general ward and keep an eye on her and measure her breathing.
The following day they drained 4 litres of water out of her body, a few days later it was back again, this carried on, at the same time my mom was eating less and less. She had never ending diahorrea and was constantly trying to find something to eat that wouldn't irriatate her tummy.
It was crazy to see my vibrant mother fading so fast in front of my eyes. I didn't want to believe it, it is such a massive thing to admit. I could see it though, I knew she was dying.
Saturday, May 25, 2013
Face cream
A bittersweet memory.
It was about a week before my mom passed away when she was in hospital in a room by herself. The doctor was worried she would get an infection as her immunity was very low so they limited visitors. (Although I sneaked a few of her friends in and I would visit every lunchtime and evening.)
Before entering the room all visitors (and nurses) had to put on a disposable apron, surgical gloves and mask. I hated it and so did mom, so as I entered the room, I would lower the mask and give her a huge smile. It felt so weird to not go and give her a kiss, instead I would press my cheek to hers and there was no comfort in holding her hand when I had those gloves on.
I tried so hard to be upbeat and positive when inside I was crying and wanting to run away from the sad reality that I was looking at - my wonderful, wise, amazing, tough mom who looked so frail and who was in such pain. She was also very thin, my previously cuddly mom was refusing any food, no matter how hard I tried to feed her.
So, there was my mom was lying so incredibly ill, unable to speak, yet able to show she was very happy to see me. I asked her if I can get her anything in a process of head shakes and nods I worked out that she would like me to put cream on her face. It seemed her face dried out very quickly along with her lips which often needed balm.
While wearing those stupid surgical gloves, I squirted some luxurious scented cream onto my fingertips and gently rubbed it onto my mom's sunken cheeks and wrinkled forehead. As I did this my mom's body seemed to sigh and relax, she lifted her face up and seemed to purr. I carried on and on rubbing in more cream as I didn't want the time to end.
For a moment I allowed myself to forget where we were and what was happening and just enjoy the connection and the wonderful feeling it was to give someone I love so very much this gift of simple touch.
It was about a week before my mom passed away when she was in hospital in a room by herself. The doctor was worried she would get an infection as her immunity was very low so they limited visitors. (Although I sneaked a few of her friends in and I would visit every lunchtime and evening.)
Before entering the room all visitors (and nurses) had to put on a disposable apron, surgical gloves and mask. I hated it and so did mom, so as I entered the room, I would lower the mask and give her a huge smile. It felt so weird to not go and give her a kiss, instead I would press my cheek to hers and there was no comfort in holding her hand when I had those gloves on.
I tried so hard to be upbeat and positive when inside I was crying and wanting to run away from the sad reality that I was looking at - my wonderful, wise, amazing, tough mom who looked so frail and who was in such pain. She was also very thin, my previously cuddly mom was refusing any food, no matter how hard I tried to feed her.
So, there was my mom was lying so incredibly ill, unable to speak, yet able to show she was very happy to see me. I asked her if I can get her anything in a process of head shakes and nods I worked out that she would like me to put cream on her face. It seemed her face dried out very quickly along with her lips which often needed balm.
While wearing those stupid surgical gloves, I squirted some luxurious scented cream onto my fingertips and gently rubbed it onto my mom's sunken cheeks and wrinkled forehead. As I did this my mom's body seemed to sigh and relax, she lifted her face up and seemed to purr. I carried on and on rubbing in more cream as I didn't want the time to end.
For a moment I allowed myself to forget where we were and what was happening and just enjoy the connection and the wonderful feeling it was to give someone I love so very much this gift of simple touch.
Missing my mom
It has been just over a year since my mom passed away and I like to play a game in my mind.
"If mom was here now"
I think about how sometimes I would have stopped off on the way home from work to have a chat, tea and see her garden or helped her do something. It is the simple mundane things I missed about not having her around and the big huge things - like missing out on seeing her and Jack together or helping me with sorting out relationships in our family.
I feel her so much part of my life, she molded me and directed me. I have tried to surround myself with little reminders of her and it really helps. But damn I just fucking miss her sometimes.
She was so funny, she could get me out of a funk so quickly - even if it was me laughing at her doing her silly dance! And the moment Gareth and her were in the same room it was guaranteed to be a laugh fest.
The silly words she made up - I really wish I know what humdingers she would have had to describe Jack - the two of them I think would have been as thick as thieves with a new language made up between them. I love that Jack knows about Gunny-Mooo-Tea and will bring her up in conversation, point our out in photos and acknowledges her. If only….
I think about how sometimes I would have stopped off on the way home from work to have a chat, tea and see her garden or helped her do something. It is the simple mundane things I missed about not having her around and the big huge things - like missing out on seeing her and Jack together or helping me with sorting out relationships in our family.
I feel her so much part of my life, she molded me and directed me. I have tried to surround myself with little reminders of her and it really helps. But damn I just fucking miss her sometimes.
She was so funny, she could get me out of a funk so quickly - even if it was me laughing at her doing her silly dance! And the moment Gareth and her were in the same room it was guaranteed to be a laugh fest.
The silly words she made up - I really wish I know what humdingers she would have had to describe Jack - the two of them I think would have been as thick as thieves with a new language made up between them. I love that Jack knows about Gunny-Mooo-Tea and will bring her up in conversation, point our out in photos and acknowledges her. If only….
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