My best friend

[clarebethan]

I write this as a very low 24 year old struggling with loss, despair and sadness.

My grief began at 17 in September 2005 where I was woken at 6am by my (much) older brother and a policeman expressing the news that my sister (18 years my senior) had died suddenly that night at the hands of an epileptic fit. She had had the ambulance service out to her and been discharged. 20 minutes later she suffered a massive seizure. It was the day after my birthday and in the first year of my AS levels. Just months before it had been diagnosed that my stepfather had a fast strain of motor neurone and within weeks he was then paralysed on his left side as a consequence of a stroke. My already orphaned mother was left devastated at the loss of her daughter and the eminent loss of her husband. Mum was my stepfathers carer, he sadly had no independence and was once a very active man. He slowly slid into depression and many a time requested that my mother take him to Switzerland. Whilst not his intention to hurt Mum, she was in total despair. Sadly 14 months after burying my sister we suffered another great loss.

Over the next few years, Mum slid in and out of the grief cycle. Having not wanted to go on herself after losing both parents, a daughter and a husband, she slowly began to motivate herself to live a life. At this time I had gone to University but consciously chose the nearest one so that it was easy for us both to visit. Previously at loggerhead, we became best friends – phone calls once if not twice a day. I took on a role of protector, I did not want to see her hurt or frightened again. Perhaps I mollycoddled her a little bit with my phone calls to ensure she ‘had locked the back door’ but this was returned through her support when I was low. I tried as much as I could not to lean on her, knowing that Mum would rarely express her sadness to me in fear of me not moving on with my life, she became my protector too not wanting me to hurt. As mothers and daughters do, we had fights, we couldn’t talk about our grief so it came out in different ways. Mainly through irritation with each other as we were in each other’s pockets so much. I made the decision to try to break away as often Mum would get annoyed hat I would call so often and it became so accustomed to her that I would chase, she began to stop calling me and then get upset if I didn’t call. A vicious circle, but one that never caused major anguish – we would always laugh after at the ridiculousness of the situation, both knowing the love we shared for one another.

Around January of this year (2012) Mum began complaining of her bowels. She’d always had sporadic complaints about the area being in her early 60’s but this time it was more to do with a lack of movement. In February, she helped me move house and seeing her pain I urged her to visit the doctor. She agreed and saw the doctor the last but one week of February and he prescribed some Movidol to get things moving. Having no results, Mum revisited and she was given an appointment for a CT scan just to check that all was OK. Sadly all was not and there was some matter showing up. Mum went in for a bowel swab and cancerous cells were found and later she was given a CA-125 test. A few tests later and on the 14^th March it emerged that Mum had stage 4 cancer, the root not determined as there were spots on the bowel, lungs and abdominal. On the morning of the 18^th March, a Sunday and Mothers day, Mum was taken by ambulance due to the pain in to hospital and immediately given Morphine to dull it. In the afternoon I was called into the consultant’s office and was told to prepare myself that Mum would not last the week. We made the decision not to tell Mum this, but it later emerged that she had heard me cry from her bed down the hall way. From this moment I made sure that I would be positive, not let her see any signs of cracking and ensure she was constantly reassured she would be leaving the hospital soon. This killed me inside, not just the fact that I was losing my best friend but the knowledge I could never tell her all the things I feel about her or ask her the questions that I’d never asked; really getting to know my Mum in her final hours, in fear that she would know the worst. We were protecting her and she us by trying to be cheery. On the Wednesday, Mum had a shift in mood and became very depressed, she realised that in order for any chance of treatment in the form of chemotherapy she had to be fit enough to pass a stool. Honestly, the happiest moment of my life that week was hearing her fart as we had been willing for this so desperately. On Thursday, the Consultant came round and confirmed that we would start light chemotherapy on Monday and that mum would be moved up to the Oncology ward. We were thrilled that there was hope. I returned to Mum on the Friday morning in her new ward. Although great that she was on the right ward, we lost our privilege of a room in the previous ward and Mum was put in a bed with other patients. This drastically cut my opportunity to visit her down, going from all day to 2 hours a day. Mum willed me that morning to go back home 2 hours away to sort things out as I’s been with her for 4 weeks straight. Although uncomfortable at this prospect, I left and spoke to her on the phone that evening.

On Saturday morning, March 23rd 6 days since she had been admitted and only 2 weeks of the dreaded news, Mum fell into a deep coma and in the car half way home, rushing to get to her, I had a phone call to say she had died. It was the acetes, she looked 9 months pregnant, her bowel had ruptured. Not even the bastard cancer.

I feel lost. Totally grief stricken. I’ve tried antidepressants, counselling, everything because I’ve been through this twice before. I’m looking for advice from others in my situation. Thank you for taking the time to read my feelings.

[kaycee42]

Hi Clare

I am sorry I have no real advice for you but just wanted to send you a hug. My Mum died 2 years 10 months ago, during which time I had to cope with my Dad's grief as well as my own. The thing is there is no answer, every day I get up and do what I need to, some days like I am on auto. Now just 2 months ago my Dad died. So there you are I am back to square one, putting one foot in front of the other as I did before. I too feel lost and alone, even though I am not. What I do know is that neither my Mum nor my Dad would want this to pull me under, so with that in mind, even on my worst days I get up and do what I need to. The one thing I have found is that writing like this and putting down my feelings does seem to help. Sending you some cyber hugs, take care

[Rms1977]

Clare, I am first and foremost so sorry to hear of the passing of your Dear Mothet, and best friend. I read your story, crying as I feel your pain. Then I got to the end, and was in shock.

I lost my Mama on 9-18-2012. A little over a month ago. I ha e shared my story on here, and ended with "she looked 9 months pregnant, as her bowel ruptured !!" I do know the image you cannot get out of your head, as I am in your shoes.

Praying for your strength!

Hugs!!!