September ended unexpectedly quickly and I seem to have been away from blogging for a while. I'm not quite sure what happened, other than that I had two urgent pieces of writing to finish, and, by the time I'd written more than 15 000 words, I couldn't face writing more in my blog!
Anyway, October has arrived and, I hope, things will be calmer now until I have to mark student assignments in November. So, some time for reflection at last.
A friend asked me today if I would accompany her to visit a very sick relative in hospital. Of course, I agreed - it's good, I think, to have support, especially if you're visiting someone you haven't seen for a while, particularly if they're very ill. When we got to the hospital, though, I realised that I felt a little tense and finally worked out why; not only did we go to the hospital that I visit for my regular check-ups (and that's always traumatic for me, as you'll know, if you read this blog regularly), but while I was waiting in the café for my friend to return from her visit, I noticed the date. Four years ago, I was practically living at another hospital, watching my mother die slowly, painfully and with a shameful lack of dignity accorded to her. October that year was the most terrible time of my life - far worse than the October two years later, when it became apparent that I was serioulsy ill myself. So, visiting hospitals in October is painful; the weather today is beautiful, just as it was then. It brought to mind getting having to get a hospital parking permit rather than paying to park in the hospital grounds on a daily basis because I spent so much time there. It brought to mind sleeping in the visitors' room overnight for several days when Mum was first admitted. It brought to mind sleeping at home, fully clothed, waiting for the phone to ring in the night, calling me to the hospital. It brought to mind the days when I had hope. It brought to mind the days when hope faded. It brought to mind all the things I've been trying not to think about for four years.
Today I realised that being diagnosed with cancer was nowhere near as bad as watching my mother fade and rally, rally and fade, begging me to take her home to die. My biggest regret, my biggest grief i s not my cancer and my current need for regular check ups; that' really doesn't matter to me. The biggest sadness is that I couldn't carry out my mother's last wish and take her home, not even in her coffin because there was insufficient room in her house to take it from the hallway into the living room for the last night before her funeral. It sounds farcical, doesn't it? And even though I think my mother would have found it amusing, I wish I could have done that one last thing for her, especially when she had done so much for me.
The nights are drawing in now, and soon it will be time again to go to the crematorium and to remember those days that happened four years ago. I was lucky to have good friends to support me through that time, and that's why I was happy to go to the hospital today with my friend, in spite of all the memories that visit stirred up.
Anyway, October has arrived and, I hope, things will be calmer now until I have to mark student assignments in November. So, some time for reflection at last.
A friend asked me today if I would accompany her to visit a very sick relative in hospital. Of course, I agreed - it's good, I think, to have support, especially if you're visiting someone you haven't seen for a while, particularly if they're very ill. When we got to the hospital, though, I realised that I felt a little tense and finally worked out why; not only did we go to the hospital that I visit for my regular check-ups (and that's always traumatic for me, as you'll know, if you read this blog regularly), but while I was waiting in the café for my friend to return from her visit, I noticed the date. Four years ago, I was practically living at another hospital, watching my mother die slowly, painfully and with a shameful lack of dignity accorded to her. October that year was the most terrible time of my life - far worse than the October two years later, when it became apparent that I was serioulsy ill myself. So, visiting hospitals in October is painful; the weather today is beautiful, just as it was then. It brought to mind getting having to get a hospital parking permit rather than paying to park in the hospital grounds on a daily basis because I spent so much time there. It brought to mind sleeping in the visitors' room overnight for several days when Mum was first admitted. It brought to mind sleeping at home, fully clothed, waiting for the phone to ring in the night, calling me to the hospital. It brought to mind the days when I had hope. It brought to mind the days when hope faded. It brought to mind all the things I've been trying not to think about for four years.
Today I realised that being diagnosed with cancer was nowhere near as bad as watching my mother fade and rally, rally and fade, begging me to take her home to die. My biggest regret, my biggest grief i s not my cancer and my current need for regular check ups; that' really doesn't matter to me. The biggest sadness is that I couldn't carry out my mother's last wish and take her home, not even in her coffin because there was insufficient room in her house to take it from the hallway into the living room for the last night before her funeral. It sounds farcical, doesn't it? And even though I think my mother would have found it amusing, I wish I could have done that one last thing for her, especially when she had done so much for me.
The nights are drawing in now, and soon it will be time again to go to the crematorium and to remember those days that happened four years ago. I was lucky to have good friends to support me through that time, and that's why I was happy to go to the hospital today with my friend, in spite of all the memories that visit stirred up.
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