One positive of the situation is that my anxiety levels have reduced dramatically since the syringe driver was installed. I used to feel like a taught string on a bow, vibrating with tension, and sometimes there would be a vice on my chest (when I spoke Spanish with people I didn’t know, or when I was driving). Both were activities in which I had had traumatic experiences and got a little nervous, but that on top of my baseline stress was almost intolerable.
An image would run through my mind, like the other car at the cross roads not stopping at the red light, or someone being really aggressive and rude to me for being foreign (both experiences that were real memories) and then my body would produce adrenalin and I would start to sweat as the vice would close and I would struggle to breathe. It was a waking nightmare.
Now I feel weirdly calm doing those things. It’s almost like some unconscious part of my mind is like: What’s the worst that can happen? Answer: It’s already happened.
Mum dreaded being in bed, asking people for help, strangers doing things for her. Now that she is on so much morphine, she doesn’t really seem to mind about anything at all. She’s not in pain (which was something I had dreaded) and she lies serenely with her little air bed humming away beneath her. She tells us she feels like a little bird in a nest, and she dutifully opens her mouth for water and juice, saying “That’s lovely that. That’s really nice. I’m so glad you’re here”.
I’m glad that I’m here too. This has been the hardest week of my life, the hardest year. We were lucky that we got to spend time together when Mum was well, and that I can be here now. We are lucky to get to say goodbye.