Tuesday, February 5, 2013

My mum - 16 - 18 January 2013

For the next three days, our lives were centred around hospital visits. I couldn’t reach my mother fast enough. She seemed to be able to comprehend some of what we said to her.  As I write this, I can’t remember half the things I told her.  But I spoke as if everything was normal. I massaged her feet and kissed her wherever I could. I pushed her very hard to fight this and to fight for us… we all loved her so much.

Slowly, my mum started being able to communicate with us.  She would take her index finger and write words on her legs. I realized then that she was able to write, so I put a clipboard with paper under her strapped hand; placed a pen in her hand and she was able to “talk” to us like this.

Taking calls from people was very difficult. I barely understood what was happening to my mum, let alone be able to convey this to others.  We were all extremely grateful for the calls and messages of concern from relatives and friends, but for that week, my dad, brother and I needed to be alone with each other and focus all our energy on our dearest mum.

For the week, I slept in the lounge. Mosquitoes enjoyed gnawing at me and I would wake up at 04:00, counting the minutes till the first visiting hour of the day.

I put the week down to the worst of all of our lives...

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