It's all about my mum
It's ironic really that just yesterday I decided to write a blog post about mum and now we sit in the emergency department and she’s wired up and being tested for a suspected heart attack.
And I don’t know how I should be feeling.
The blog post I was going to write was how she’s driving me batty these days. She’s demanding and inconsiderate of others, especially me. She always has been, as my poor dad would tell you if he didn’t duck out of this life so early on.
“I could never retire, I’ll have to work until I drop. Couldn’t stand being at home being nagged all day.” He would say with an eye roll.
Seeing her in so much pain tonight, begging me to phone for an ambulance, I knew this potentially could be her time. Internally I told myself I’m ready, and thought about the practicalities in my diary in the next few days. This wasn’t a bad time for a crisis. Knowing the finality of losing someone struck me after Dad died. It was a tragedy and so sudden, a real shock. I remember having silly thoughts back then like, “he’s taken all his musical knowledge with him,” and, “he won’t need to eat food anymore.”
You read back over text messages don’t you, and even consider sending another one into the ether just to allow yourself one last communication with your loved one.
Dad bought mum a mobile phone once. She threw it back at him with a frown and tight lips. She had always said she would never use a mobile, what was he thinking?
So here we are, her obs are not great, she’s exhausted as its 3am, I’m exhausted too. Yet for me to sleep right now is impossible, you see my Crohns is flaring up and I’m in a lot of pain, struggling to be here every time the Dr looks in as I have difficulty getting off the loo.
I think I’m as ready as I’m going to be. My twins are at the beginning of their lives, I’m kind of in the middle of mine and mum is nearing the end of hers, dictating our three lives around hers. There was talk of a date planned this evening, (a new thing for me) but of course I didn’t hesitate to cancel it.
He was hot too.
She’s become a part of the furniture.
She drives us bananas with the repetitive nature of her words. She loses our clothes. I’m sat here in my black jeans that are three sizes too big. Well, it was that or double denim...
But she will leave a void.
I tell myself it’s the circle of life. The only family is my twins.
Her heart rate skips a couple of beats as her oxygen drops to 91%, I sense I might need to close my eyes soon. I need to allow myself the luxury of being unwell too, no, must fight it.