I never knew any of my grandparents properly as they all died either before I was born or shortly after, but I do know loss as I have lost my mother and two uncles to cancer while my father I watched dwindle away to nothingness from Dementia related illnesses which broke my heart of stone and knocked down the emotional brick wall I had erected from childhood, not willing to have it torn apart.
My Uncles, one of whom suddenly died of undiagnosed ‘Bowel Cancer’ and the other due ‘Pancreatic Cancer’ which couldn’t be operated on because of thrombosis. Both men, whom I remember as been strong and dignified in their appearance became weak in their final days. This was a hard thing in itself to watch.
My mother who I loved dearly had a hard life in a way, losing her mother at fifteen, then taking on the mantle of caregiver first for her own father, then my father’s father. She battled her way through two miscarriages which left me as an only child who she doted on right up to her death. But that wasn’t the last of her battles as she was firstly diagnosed with what at the time was classed as a brain bug [probably a mini stroke] crippling her for over a year. That brain bug took away her speech, her mobility and hospitalised her for two months. Together as a family, me as her part time caregiver at fifteen, alongside my father when he wasn’t at work, we helped her regain her voice, her mobility and one year later she again danced with my father at the Christmas party. That was a long year. Then in 1989 she was complaining of stomach pains, so I talked her in to visiting the doctor which after a couple of months of poking, prodding and a D&C, she was diagnosed with ‘Cervical Cancer’ which was promptly dealt with by giving her a full ‘Hysterectomy’ followed by ‘Chemotherapy’ for six months. After the side effects of Chemo my mother again battled through and was told she had beat the cancer and after five years given the all clear.
We took every day after that as a blessing, but that was never meant to last as after a regular breast screening appointment in late 2002, she was taken in to hospital for a biopsy which proved she had breast cancer, not severe enough to warrant surgery. Although it did mean she would require radiotherapy, but when she went in to have the therapy set up it was found that the cancer had also moved to her lung which would mean chemotherapy once again instead of radiotherapy. Then came the heartbreak for me. On the day she was set to have her first round of therapy on April 24th 2003, I couldn’t accompany her and my father to the hospital due to work. I phoned from work to check she was okay and was told by my father she was having second thoughts about the chemotherapy and I will always remember my last words to her which was “Come on mam, stop being a baby it will be okay, get dressed and go see the doctor at the hospital”, three hours later I received a phone call telling me she had collapsed and was on her way to hospital. When I finally got to the hospital it was too late and for the rest of my life I will have the pain of remembering those stupid words and never having the chance to properly say goodbye to my beloved mother. The official diagnosis was death due to ‘Pulmonary Embolism’
Fast forward to 2013 and my father’s diagnosis of ‘Dementia’. I became his full time caregiver and we lived together for nearly seven years until in June 2019 when he succumb to respiratory issues caused by his dementia resulting in sepsis. What I found hard was watching my hero and best friend slowly wither away to nothing, but skin and bone before my very eyes while losing his mind, voice, mobility and the worst side effect of dementia his dignity due to incontinence. I saw a once dapper man deteriorate in to someone who no longer cared about his appearance which destressed me greatly.
I don’t write this looking for sympathy, I write this to show I do understand how loss can affect people especially if that person is taken suddenly without a chance to say goodbye as in my mother’s case. I said goodbye to her as I left for work expecting to see her when I returned home [yes I lived with my parents at the time or should I say they lived with me] and five hours later she was gone as I kissed her forehead goodbye in a small viewing room just of the Emergency room in the hospital set aside for grieving families. Now I remember them all on their birthdays and the anniversaries of the day they were taken from my side. I have tried to rebuild that emotional wall for years, but it is still down and for no known reason to me I find at the most unexpected of times, my heart aching and the tears flowing uncontrollably, especially right now as I put these words together for ‘Armistice Day’ 2020, a year where millions of families have come to know the feeling of grief for a loved one taken before their time by a deadly disease that has no known cure like Dementia and Cancer was for me, which I experienced as a third party looking on unable to physically do anything about.
For my mother. 18/11/1937 – 24/04/2003
For my father. 07/04/1931 – 02/06/2019
For the Armed Forces everywhere.
On that sombre note I will call it a day,
Rant you tomorrow!
