msjessica's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- A jumble of Eurovision songs Since then, since last time.... she couldn’t eat, so we thought she would never eat again. The social worker who came to fill out the Advanced Medical Directive with us (us being Mum, my sister and I, with Mums partner somewhere in the house refusing to take part in something to him so “morbid”, to us so liberating, empowering, and crucial) had offered up to us “would you like to know what to expect?”. Although not without some nervous hesitation we almost in unison replied “Yes.”. She told us signs to look for. Lack of appetite, lack of mobility or will of movement, followed by slow breathing, undulating consciousness. That there would be days like this, followed by days not like this, but eventually there would be a few days like this in a row and then different days than what we’d ever known altogether. So after Mum was so sick that one day and she could not eat, we began to think that this was it, she wouldn’t eat solid food again and we might have her for another week, two at a stretch. But overtime she was able to take solid food again, and then more and more and more. Her oncologist reported that her blood test shows no significant progression. This should be good news, but it’s staggering. For all of us. It takes so much to prepare for her to die. And what must it be like for her, to go through all that, make her peace with it, likely start to welcome it as a release, to be told “there’s a hold up in front of us, we’ll be parked at this station for awhile longer”. She is not a bucket list, jumping out of planes kind of lady. She is sitting either in bed or in an electrically movable chair, noticing her muscles being eaten away by her pain medication and watching well meaning family members and friends and old colleagues move around her sometimes like she’s already dead, or at least just smelling of death. We all know what’s coming and go to such measures to have all these times together yet we never talk about the real fact of it or give it its respect. But in part this is perfectly respectful of her as she has always been one who struggled with hard truths and did better with face platitudes and face value. I love her deeply, there are so many contradictions to her, as with anyone. After the news settled that things were slow and not progressing, I booked a flight home for a week, started planning some other interstate trips for concerts I have tickets to. I write the words “today was a happy day”. But then.
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I didn’t think I had anything to say tonight but have gained a lot from my previous notes during this time, and feel one day it will be very important to have some documentation about this time. It’s fucking hard, but it’s also beautiful and the most connected, natural and at home I’ve felt in many years. 1:43 a.m. - 2018-05-16 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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