Author: Rebecca J Burman
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Grief is a funny thing. Funny, not funny.
One year on.Almost to the minute, by chance, Mum was taken off to surgery.We had sat for 5 hours waiting for her to go.Five very long and painful hours.They were indeed, as our worst fears knew, to be the last 5 hours we spent with her still able to properly communicate. And even then she…
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I built a wall from rubble
Feeling incredibly vulnerable today. In the world of grief and seriously ill parents, it seems often you can’t see the intense reactions and feelings slamming straight for you. Last night I left Papworth for the last time. For now at least. Dad has been there for 50 days. When he arrived his life was hanging…
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Without my Mum
This morning, at 10:30am, our dear Mum passed away. In the twenty-three days we have kept vigil at her bedside, she had one dose of paracetamol and one tiny dose of morphine. And then she quietly and peacefully slipped away. Allow me to take you back just a few days though. Tuesday (Day 20), and…
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Dying isn’t easy…
Twelve days ago we agreed to no more medical interventions. We would let Mum pass away. What this meant, time wise, we didn’t know. No-one knew. No-one could tell us. It would not have surprised us if someone had told us it would be long, drawn out and not simple. The thing is, Mum has…
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I sit with my Mum, she is dying
I sit with my Mum. She is dying. ‘All our Neurosurgeons have operated on your mother’ We all agree Mum has had enough. The need for surgery to remove a large bleed on her brain is the resting point. She has fought. And fought. And fought some more. Enough is enough. No more suffering. It’s…
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Hospital blues and covid
Sunday is the bleakest day in hospital. It’s like people aren’t ill on a Sunday, and if you are? Well you’ll just have to wait, because it’s Sunday, and people don’t work on a Sunday. Which is odd, because I do. And by ‘odd’ I obviously mean, frustrating, depressing, makes no sense at all and…
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Maybe she thought I was a nurse?
I went on holiday. It was just seven days – in fact, we went both there and back via Addenbrookes, so in this respect it was just 6 days. And yet, I had forgotten just how fuck hard this is. I had convinced myself that Mum was fine, and very slowly on the mend. Maybe…
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Touching a coma
When life briefly stops and you find yourself in an idyllic location for some hours… The last few weeks have not been an improvement on the previous few documented in The day I tattooed a spider on my eye. The spiders have been mainly behaving themselves, I did have to take them to Addenbrookes eye…
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The day I tattooed a spider on my eye
Those who know me well will know of my obsession with Louise Bourgeois’ spiders. Was it taking it a step too far to get my very own spider, in the form of vitreous floaters, ensuring a wriggling spider image forever engrained in my sight?! It’s been quite the few weeks… As we arrived at Addenbrookes…
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The toilet is my favourite place
As I walked into the gallery the pictures on the wall gave nothing away. The silence not broken by brushstrokes. Nothing to process. Tranquil, almost transparent colours. Perfect structure. The tears cascaded down my face. I was home. I was complete. I don’t think I could have been less prepared for such an intensely emotional…
Against the Dark 