It’s amazing how you can get used to something.

I arrived 7 days ago, when they had just put in the syringe driver (electronic morphine drip). It was surreal and heart breaking to see Mum truly bedbound, eyes open but unseeing. At first she could hold a bottle of water with a straw in, but now she doesn’t have the energy for that. I put the syringe of water in her hand, guide her hand to her mouth. I’ve cut sponges into mouthfuls so she can have a bit of moisture in her mouth when she doesn’t have the energy to swallow.

When she’s sleeping, I sit at the computer, clean the kitchen, do a jigsaw puzzle. I can’t really concentrate on complicated things, like reading the paper, or doing a crossword. I can’t make it more than a few paragraphs before I think suddenly “I must do that thing for Mum”. I got some graphic novels from the library and am reading them slowly, looking at the pictures. It is so draining sitting by her bed, bringing her ice pops, holding her hand, chatting and keeping my voice bright (or at least even). By 10pm, when the night carer arrives, I am a wreck.

I started editing the blog posts when I arrived 7 days ago. The activity kept me going, and the writing is therapeutic. It’s a way of listening to myself, when what I would really like to do is distract myself from the pain of the situation; burying my head in the pillow, hiding under the covers. But I can’t run anymore. Mum needs me to be strong now.

The kind response from family and friends has been truly amazing. I hope that what I’ve written, so honestly, helps other people in this situation (both present and future). It has helped me in the present.

 

 

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