The C word

So as you have probably worked out my relationship with mother was not great! One of the biggest issues I have had to deal with my entire life is what people thought of my mum! You see on her good days she was great to be around and the life and soul of the party. She could be funny, and a fantastic person but when she was bad she was terrible. Most people remember my mum as the fun loving, party girl who loved to laugh and spend time with her family. They remember the woman who tried for 12 years to have a much wanted child and was a hands on auntie. For years she and my dad took all of my cousins here, there and everywhere when their own parents were working or too busy. As a family we had some great times. We never had much money so we instead of fancy holidays we went day trips in the car. We travelled all over Scotland just the three of us and the dog. She could show incredible kindness to strangers and always tried to help others.

Things with mum had gotten better, we were in a better place. I was living, working and studying in Glasgow but was able to come home and visit at weekends. On one of these weekends mum confessed she hadn't been feeling well and hae severe constipation. She has been to the doctors and they has given her a laxative to help. A week later I came back to visit and noticed how much thinner she looked. My mum was a "big" women with a 44dd chest but she looked "thin" apart from her belly. I offered to go to the doctors with her this time as she felt she kept being fobbed off. When he met us he said "what is it this time Jean?!" She said the same thing. He reached for the prescription pad but is stopped him and said "can't you see her abdomen is distended?! Maybe you should actually exam her??". He glanced up and noticed the huge bump she was carrying. A quick feel of her abdomen and we were on our way to Stirling royal. She spent two weeks there being poked and prodded without any explanation of what was happening. Dad had a meeting with the consultant and asked him if it was cancer. The consultant said he couldn't confirm that but described it a "a dog barking in the darkness and they just had to find it". So basically cancer! 

The shit thing was I already knew... as I was a nursing student my mum used to get me to read her notes for her each day. One day I read she had a thing called "ischemia". I immediately checked my nurses dictionary and realised it's a lack of blood flow often caused by CANCER. So there it was right in front of me, my mother had cancer and neither she or my dad knew. I played dumb for over a week knowing deep down what was actually going on. It was a weird relief when dad was finally told. Because they couldn't locate the cancer she was moved through Glasgow Royal infirmary oncology unit. 

The oncology unit was bleak! It was in the old Victorian part of the hospital. A grey, stark building, coloured by years of coal fires and smog from the city. She was luckily and had a room of her own. She was told she was being prepared for surgery as they suspected she had ovarian cancer. They would dive in, cut out all the bad stuff, give her a hysterectomy and boom a wee but chemo for good measure and she would be golden! But in the words of Robert Burns "the best laid schemes o' mice an' men gang aft agley"..

It was 11am and dad phoned me. Mums surgery was at 10:30 so I knew it was bad. Sitting on my bed in my wee rental flat next to the river Clyde dad told me to "get to the hospital now". I jumped up and spent my last £5 on a taxi. As I walked into the ward dad met me and we were ushered into a small office space. The consultant come in and asked us to sit down. My heart was pounding so hard I thought it was going to burst out of my chest! He explained she had opened mum and instantly saw the tumour. It was huge and covered her entire piritoneum (a membrane that covers your internal organs). He said he tried to cut it away but every time he sliced at it she bled profusely. He described the tumour as like pouring glue into someone and everything it touches it sticks too. Eventually he had to stop as he realised if he kept cutting she would bleed to death on the table. He had never seen a tumor like it and doubted chemo or radiation therapy would do much. Once she came round he would tell her the news and we could make a plan. Dad said he wanted to tell her himself. Mum was one of these people who would just go along with what she's told, the old "yes doctor" and she wouldn't take it in.

So in a dimly lit side room with my dad on one side and me on the other my mum woke up. The first thing she said was " I feel so much better now that tumour is gone". Dad began to cry and mum asked "am I going to die". She looked at him and he didn't answer. She then looked at me and I managed to nod my head before we all broke down and held each other. It's the most helpless I've ever felt. We took her home and started to formulate a plan. 

Chemo was the way forward. She decided she wanted to at least try it. She said she was going to "fight it" but let's face it, no one ever fights cancer. They are merely fighting against their own bodies. The day came for her first session and I couldn't go with her as I had an exam. Yup throughout all of this I was still at uni and working part time. Dad again called me after my exam to tell me to come to the hospital. This time three consultants met us. She had been far too weak for the chemo. If they had given it to her she wouldn't have survived. So again we sat in the wee room and listened to the consultant. My head was swimming and I remember him saying things like "no other options", "the end of the road" and "not long". Dads face was ashen. I reached over and squeezed his hand. We sat and cried while mum was in her room. He had told dad she had "two weeks" to live she got four months.

We crammed as much as we possibly could into those four months. Took her all the places she wanted to go and just tried to be together as much as possible. The totally fucked up thing was it stopped her drinking! And without her drinking she was a far better person. She became the mum I'd always wanted. We grow closer as a family but it took a massive strain on dad and I. We had no help from anyone in caring for mum so dad and I had to. Dad was not a natural carer and became frustrated when he couldn't do things properly or he didn't understand why you did something. I became his verbal whipping boy and he frequently lashed out at me when mum wasn't around. He wanted me to give up my studies, my job and essentially my entire life to move home and be a full time carer for mum. She was not happy about that and adamant that I keep going with everything! It caused many arguments when we should have been spending quality time together. 

I went back to Glasgow for a day or so to catch up on studies and meet up with a coupe of friends. Before I went mum wanted to go Christmas shopping in town. She bought me ultra violet perfume and a mortar and pestle. When I left her that day I hugged her tight and said I'd see her in two days. I cried on the train but knew I needed some space. On the morning of the 13th December 2004 dad called to say she was "close to the end ". I jumped on a bus into Glasgow and my friend was picking me up to take me to Stirling. Half way along Great Western Road at 11:15 I suddenly knew she was gone. It flooded over me live a wave and totally engulfed me. I started to cry and an old women asked if I was alright? I said "no my mums just died". I got off the bus and stood waiting for my friend. Jumping in the car I told her how I felt. She had been a friend since birth and knew my mum well so raced us through to Stirling. I walked up the drive and dad met me at the door. She was gone and she died at 11:15am.