Mum's Got Cancer: Part Three

In 1996 Mum was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis (MS) and our lives changed forever. Rachel and I were to realise just how fallible our parents were. Both she and I recalled a time when we lived with Mum and were watching a documentary on the TV; it was about a man that had MS and his story. He fell ill and got worse and worse until one day he lost all control of his muscles and could do nothing for himself or speak. We both vividly remember Mum saying "Girls if ever i should become like that please kill me". Little did we know that less than 10 years later fate would diagnose our mum with this horrible illness.

I was away at Uni in 1996 and felt useless. When I would come home I would do all I could and make sure others rallied around. Mum started to be able to talk and walk again and her symptoms went in to remission. . Neurologists decided this was not the first episode but probably the second - her specialist having written on her notes that he suspected MS but didn't want to worry her when she had two small children to look after.

Anyhow 12 years past and we waited for her next bout of sickness; Mum moved, with Terry, to a bungalow to allow her to be able to move around in a wheelchair when the time came. She changed her diet and became a vegetarian (blamed partly on me at the time). The time came and went, visits to Kings and scans and no change in the myelin sheath, in fact it seemed to have repaired itself in places. Quite unheard of. Had Mum beaten this?

Grandchildren were born and their lives celebrated with frequent trips to the seasdie to see Granny and eat copious amounts of gingerbread men. We felt like there was a ticking MS Time Bomb in the back of our minds but Mum was leading a good life. Then POW: CANCER.

Completely out of the blue. Unexpected. Unwelcome. Unwanted. Here to stay.

Comments

London Calling

I am no longer based "in town" and I never thought I'd miss it. Yet every Wednesday when I am London bound I find myself looking forward to what I will be greeted by. It's not the hustle and bustle - the fast moving commuters and slow shuffling tourists. It's not the shops and bargains abound. It's the buildings, the Underground, the knowing smile you may get from a fellow passenger, or the sarcastic comment of a Tube driver. I love London and its diversity. I love that you can walk just a short distance and be greeted by a whole new world. I love that you can randomly bump into an old friend you haven't seen for years. Making our big world smaller every day. I love St Paul's how proud it stands in the heart of the City. The fact it has survived wars and still attracts throngs of people to it everyday. I love the pomp and circumstance of the City and its Idiosyncrasies. I love that the museums are free and that you can meander around beautifu...

LuluSLR: What depression means to me (first published in July 2014)

As a teenager we lived next door to a lady with depression. She and her husband were lovely people, they would always stop and chat, but sometimes she would retreat and we wouldn't see her for months. Instead we would only see Ernie on his daily walk. Then suddenly she would be back beside him with long hair (Gladys always had short hair). I didn't really take much notice but can remember my mum commenting about Gladys and her long hair meaning she had been depressed. Now, looking back, I can see how they were connected. How Glady wouldn't want to leave the house and thus her hair would grow and she would look unkempt when she did reappear. I get it now. Growing up depression wasn't really something I knew much about. I know members of my family have suffered with it but it just kind of passed me by. After all we all have sad days or short periods. Well that's what I thought. Just get on with it. Keep smiling. However my short periods would get longer...

100 Sad Days; Day 34: Say it Like you Mean it

Elton John was wrong. Sorry is not the hardest word. In fact it is all to easily said and not meant. For years I thought that flowers were a sad excuse for a sorry. Now I realise that what is worse is the empty shell of a sorry. The echo of an unmeant apology received in hope but ushered in haste. I cannot count the times I have heard the word. From a forced apology "say you are sorry" to one that is said unkept. We all say sorry. We bump in to someone and manners tell us to apologise. We drop something and we apologise. Sorry here is lighthearted but still meant. Kids fight or shout and apologise as they are taught to do. Sometimes they mean it sometimes they just say it. They are kids after all. Adults should know better. Sorry should mean just that. It isn't an excuse for bad behaviour. It isn't a "make everything better with one word". It should be said with the mouth, the heart and the mind. If you are sorry then be sor...

My Blog Bubble

Search This Blog