Regression

I spent all day with Mum last Sunday.

She has never been interested in going to the Trafford Centre to see Father Christmas in previous years when I have took my son, but this year she wanted to come.

So Sunday after church we picked her up and took her back to my house before venturing out down the motorway

We spoke a lot, about different things, she asked me if I thought man would ever find a cure for cancer. I don't believe they ever will.

I think death is natures way of ensuring the continuation of the human race.

She said she was relying on me to stay focussed and not fall apart through all this.

I know its bad but I know there are people out there who are a hell of a lot worse off than us and Mum.

I told her about that postpals website for the terminally ill children and in particular the story I read on there that broke my heart about a 9 year old girl whose mum had to tell her a week before her 9th birthday that her brain tumor was inoperable.

Can you imagine having to tell a child they are terminally ill?

It truly doesnt bear thinking about and I hope that its a position that any of us are NEVER in.

It was then I cried, and my eyes a welling even now, just thinking how horrible life is outside our windows, in the big bad real world.

That line from Band Aid keeps coming to mind this week 'theres a world outside your window and its a world of dreaded fear'

I thought I was doing well, since my tummy bug I hadn't taken any of my antidepressants that I have been on for a year, so its been over 2 weeks now.

I honestly didnt feel like I needed them.

But then not being able to sleep properly, my emotional outbursts on unsuspecting people, being moody and seemingly angry at little things and tired all the time. I have started to take them again.

So WE went to the Trafford centre to take my son to see father christmas.

He was booked up! So we have to make an appointment to go again!

But pushing Mum in her wheelchair around I think I get it.

Its a regression. Maybe is Christmas, maybe its the cancer, but this inner child seemed to shine through.

The cheekyness and glint in her eye, the enjoyment of seeing my son on the carousel, almost like not a care in the world. Maybe its escapism too.

For 30 mins in the christmas lights and atmosphere she forgot about the cancer.

Physically, she isnt eating a great deal anymore and she coughs until she is sick. She has lost a stone in weight over the past couple of months.

She is sleeping about 12-13 hours a day now.

She has asked me what I think will happen towards the end. I know she hasnt started taking the morphine that she has been given. I really believe that once you go on morphine it seems to speed up the deterioation, so we have all agreed that she will only start it when she feels its absolutley necessary. I think, and I know Im no expert, and maybe Im hoping, that she will just sleep more and more and gradually fade away.

I just feel a bit emotional today, last night I iced my Christmas cake and made mince pies.

These traditions are something my Dad has passed on to me and I suppose it comes back to this regression thing again.

Finding comfort in things from our childhood .......from a time when we felt safe....... our parents were invincable.........and everything was right with the world.