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Posted on 17/10/2009 by AnnaGoAnna

I left Millies and headed home today but not before Millie and I had talked at length about what happened yesterday. What does it really mean? We read and re-read the report but all those long words don’t mean anything and we look at the leaflet that I’ve been given by the hospital about phyllodes tumours but note that the only mention of a malignant version is one line and simply says refer to your specialist… oh great! Once again I’m asking myself what does it really mean, is this really happening? Would that explain why it still hurts sooo much? Reconstruction or the tumour still growing? Now another wait until my next operation which is booked in for 5th November but seems like forever away. How am I going to get my head around this if I don’t know what it is, or what is required to get clear of it? My mind is buzzing and Millie is loathed to let me go but I just need to get into my own space and cry… again!

Ed helped pack my bags into my car and I wished I had someone to take them out when I got home but was so tearful when I got back I daredn’t call a friend or colleague to ask.

The drive home was really painful – you forget that wearing a seatbelt is difficult not to mention every bump and lump in the road. Thanks heavens for surgical bras and waterproof mascara.

Next two weeks

Posted on 14/08/2009 by AnnaGoAnna

During the two weeks following Mum’s death, I was acutely aware of the support that I received from friends, family and colleagues. I busied myself with organising, planning and arranging things. I did anything to stop myself from falling apart in front of anyone but inside was hurting and not sure how to deal with it. My sensible brain keeps reminding me that she was ill for a long time and we knew this was coming… my emotional brain keeps reminding me that she was young at 70. When will I start to see beyond this? When will I stop crying? When will this physical pain go away?

Mum dies

Posted on 07/08/2009 by AnnaGoAnna

I think this is the start of the journey I want, and feel able, to share with you. My Mum, who I, like so many daughters had a sometimes difficult relationship, had Multiple Sclerosis. Mum was always someone who could make something of nothing and be enormously positive about what she can and will do. A lot of close friends and acquaintences didn’t know Mum had MS until the later years as she was determined ‘Just to get on with it’ and do whatever she desired to do. When her husband (my step-father) died she suddenly found it harder and felt very lost and alone and her MS got worse quite quickly. Until the end of last year she lived independently, in her own home and drove and adapted car or terrorised the pavements in an electric buggy. It was felt that so that Mum could remain in her own home, we would employ a carer to live in and assist. Quickly she needed two 24/7 live-in carers as her body slowly stopped playing nicely. Until the end of July however she was still attending concerts in the local church and films in the village hall.

At the very end of July Mum said to me on my weekly visit “You know what, I think I’ve had enough now”. I knew then that it was only a matter of time but also knew she was desperate to ensure that her latest grandchild arrived safely into this world.

On the morning of 7th August, the call came to advise that she was a grandmother again to a little girl, Celeste. After receiving this news she asked the carers for a good clean and scrub up, despite being very very weak. She then asked them to call my brother and I to be with her and said it was time. We arrived and sat with her, my brother having been able to print out photos of our new neice and show Mum, we then watched the life ebb away from her. It was incredibly so peaceful and painless – if you could have a checkbox death, this would be it!