Against the Dark

Memorise the music for tomorrow and now dance. Eek… Nigh on 30 years since I memorised anything and I do not dance.  Like, really do not dance. Cumbernauld. A brutalist town between Glasgow and Edinburgh that saw better days a long time ago and was certainly never built for pedestrians. But Cumbernauld has a beautiful – facilities-wise…

‘We are sorry for the death of your mother’ Oof. My Mum died. September 2nd 2022. She didn’t ‘pass away’, she died. But ‘death’? Now there’s a word that comes with a sucker punch. We have just returned from two weeks away in Italy.  Utter bliss. This was a long-awaited holiday, booked relatively late, the…

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…

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…

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…

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…

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…

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…