Mum's Got Cancer; Part Fourteen

I'm angry. I am so angry my jaw hurts from clenching my teeth together.

Death is a cruel master. Why hasn't he taken Mum yet? Watching my Mum, once so full of life, lying on a hospital bed barely alive hurts. There is nothing of mum left. I am angry that it is raping me of my memories of Mum; of what she used to look like.

Mum hasn't eaten in a week; not drunk anything and yet she is still here. Her heart is strong and her lungs keep going. Everything else is ravaged by cancer. I truly believe her soul left on Monday - when she stopped communicating. She wants it to end but there is no let up.

We convince ourselves she will go when she is ready and that she is waiting for something or someone.

Peace? We have given her that.

Leslie? She is here now.

The only thing it could be is that she set a date in her head of 2 March and maybe she HAS to make that. Or maybe death is just cruel.

This constant treadmill is tiring.

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