Two And A Half Years On

Obligatory recap:
When my mum first came here - at the end of June 2018 - after a nine and a half week stay in hospital I very much thought she was coming here to die. In all honesty we hadn't been at all convinced she would even get out of hospital.

Before her stroke my mum, then 73, was getting visibly frailer. She was greyer, more wrinkled, shrinking. The day before I had actually sobbed on my daughter's shoulder that I didn't think we'd have her for much longer. 

That said, she was still living independently, driving considerable distances although she spent more of her time at her partner's house than her own flat for sheer convenience.

Her stroke was described as 'severe'. There's no classification system like stages of cancer that allow you to understand where your loved one is on a broad spectrum that ranges from quick recovery at one end to things such as permanent paralysis, coma and death at the other.

My mum went from moderately healthy and active (type 2 diabetes and advancing age) to completely dependent. And it was a massive shock to us.

Her father had suffered a large stroke when I was a kid. We all agreed his quality of life had been crap yet somehow he lived another 16 or so years. Mum's situation was so much worse it was no wonder we expected her to go imminently.

Anyway, that first year she was home I felt like I was on tenterhooks. Every time she nodded off in front of the TV I'd check she was still breathing. If I woke up before her I'd be terrified she'd died in the night. NOT, I might add, because I am *scared* of her dying so much as it's a new experience I know will be very unpleasant.

I know I've blogged about all this before so I've tried to be concise.

We've recently passed the 2.5 years mark since her stroke and we're also just past the 2 years 4 months since she came to live out her days in the care of her only child - muggins here. And the pressing thing is... how wrong I was back then.

Not only did was she clearly NOT on her last legs, as evidenced by her continued survival, but - and this is the bit I'm especially struggling with - SHE WASN'T ACTUALLY THAT BAD.

Badness is a thing you can only appreciate by contrast. Mid 2018 was BAD. I did not make a bad call in declaring it bad. It was absolutely the most horrific experience... until you experience WORSE.

Worse is decidedly where we are now and I have an uncomfortable awareness that further degrees of badness are both possible and probable.

When my mum first came here she was so catastrophically not the person she had been that it was difficult to see the blessings. With hindsight, and loss, they're clearer. That's where I'm at now - realising how much more of her we've lost, especially since what was probably another big stroke right at the start of lockdown.

Memory - she remembered lots of past things although she had an unfortunate mental block on her partner's name.
Her memory is far worse now. She blanks lots of things, and far more names. She rarely reminisces.

Personality - back then she was still pretty much herself.
Now her principal remaining characteristic is a stubborn streak a mile wide.

Intelligence - my mum's never had an IQ test and her parents made her leave school at 16 but she's a seriously smart lady. There's something kind of hilarious about a stroke survivor who can't remember the name of her partner but can spell obscure words, correct grammar and yell abuse at someone misusing French on TV.
Some of it's still in there but we see less and less of it. She still uses some rather impressive words at times.

Speech - we adjusted to the new sound of her voice quite slowly.
She just passed her 76th birthday (whodathunkit?!) and she had three phone calls - each person said how good her speech was... yeah, it's not like that real world. Her speech is very difficult to understand now, even though I'm with her full-time I struggle. I've started her on drink thickener too which is indicative of deterioration. Gotta try to persuade our not-so-with-it GP to put it on her prescription next.

Mobility - it didn't bother me seeing my mum using a walking frame. I was all in favour for the stability, as was she. The hospital physios had wanted her to try for sticks but my mum has ALWAYS been pro-frame. She first used one in her 50s when she suffered a broken ankle & DVT. Safety was always a higher priority to her than appearances. She would walk to the loo on her own... from the living room. She would get up to the loo on her own in the night.
She can't get up from a chair without assistance now, let alone out of bed. It must be a good year and a half since she went to the loo on her own and forget walking the length of the house! These days she never moves anywhere without at least one person HANDS ON.

She used to come and sit in the living room to watch TV although it drove me nuts that I was expected to watch endless Midsummer Murders repeats when I don't even enjoy watching TV; now she hardly leaves her room... which at least means I can get stuff done from time to time. She sleeps a LOT more.

Old age is not beautiful. It is grim.

End Of The Decade

To tell this story properly, I first have to go back a long way to tell you why I hate New Year so much.

New Year's Eve 1998

Everything was coming together after a REALLY rough run - a new house was lined up, moving in was just a couple of weeks away. My partner and I were engaged, the church was booked, we'd talked endlessly and we were finally - after an awful rough patch - on the same page.

New Year's Eve 1999

DEVASTATED. It had lasted just five-and-a-half weeks and he'd left me pregnant again. So here I was going into another New Year as a single parent, having had a shit year including emergency surgery at 15 weeks pregnant.

New Year's Eve 2000

Well, the 90s had been a complete washout but now I was 21 and SURELY the 21st century had to be kinder? I was a young single mum of two and I clung to the hope that I'd meet someone and it'd all work out for the best.

Yeah, that didn't happen.

2010

So I'm now 31, my daughters are about to turn 11 and 14. I've been alone for the entirety of the last decade. I went into the New Year depressed about that but also ill with stress about the back-to-work thing. 'Back' indeed! As I'd only worked for four-and-a-half months before becoming a full-time mum it didn't seem to count as going 'back' - I certainly wasn't going to drop into a nice admin job on the Home Office payroll again.

A week before I turned 32 I finally got a job - two, in fact. Cleaning. Absolute bloody nightmare. Morning job was in a Gov't quango office we'll call CC and that was 0545-0745; evening job was local Gov't offices we'll call SC and I was working there 1700-1900.

Now maybe that doesn't sound so bad but 4 hours intense exercise a day is not something a morbidly obese single mother was in any way prepared for and then there's the walking to and from each job - half an hour each way, six hours exercise each day and not enough time to sleep properly. By summer everything was falling apart, starting at my feet. Leaking pipes in the kitchen and bathroom did not help my stress level and despite the exhaustion I stopped sleeping.

My youngest daughter had an exceptionally bad year - she actually has been diagnosed with PTSD from it - and she started secondary school in the September.

2011

By summer my feet had all but given up from the mileage I was clocking. Ended up having to take sick leave for plantar fasciitis. My then best friend - who I'll call CD - announced she was enrolling with Open University (OU). Now I didn't think I was eligible for OU but if CD could do it I certainly could. I decided to sign up even though it was clearly impossible given my work schedule.

That's when a minor miracle happened - my boss gave me a promotion / transfer out of evening job SC and another morning job - Site Supervisor at the Museum of Somerset. This way I only had to walk to and from town once a day although it did mean working Saturdays, and working 0800-1000 I could do both jobs (15 mins being ample to get from one to t'other) and have the rest of the day free to study.

Leaving SC after a year and a half was bloody brilliant. I loved the new job at the Museum - I started there before it was reopened after a major refurbishment so I felt very protective of it. The museum was formally reopened by Mick Aston (RIP) of Time Team.

2012

I started my OU studies in the spring which gave me a real boost - no matter how awful the present I was working toward something better. Hope is a wonderful thing to have. I miss it a lot.

In the springtime I overheard a conversation which changed my life - I heard all my symptoms and I thought "Oh, your kid had IBS" and the other mum says "Oh, your kid is probably lactose intolerant, like mine" and I was BLOWN AWAY. I cut out dairy there and then and it took four months for my guys to recover from years of irritation but finally I was well for the first time in over a decade. Later I would go vegan following on from this discovery.

In the summer I took my kids to see three events of the London Olympics (dressage and water polo). A year after Mick Aston reopened the Museum it had a second reopening - this time by Prince Edward. I got invited to that event, possibly because I insisted on coming in that day to clean even though I wasn't scheduled to (or indeed, paid to) but royalty was not seeing 'my' museum anything less than pristine! I had also volunteered to do extra cleaning around extended bank holiday weekends where the museum was open but my company weren't working - this was partly going the extra mile for the museum, partly cos I was in town for my CC job anyway and partly so when my team was back on duty the work wouldn't be quite so challenging. Anything to make life easier in the long run!

Late in the year I hit a difficulty with OU - I had really wanted to do Latin but having started the course I realised my chances of passing might throw my degree in jeopardy and for just 30 credits it wasn't worth the risk. I told CD I was thinking of withdrawing from the course and she gave me a lecture on not being a quitter and how she always finished everything she started. BULLSHIT! She'd never completed anything in the decade or more I had known her and she'd dropped OU completely, don't think she even completed her first module! Not only that but CD was also taking the piss out of me as my mid-life crisis kicked in. This was bloody rich coming from someone older and less mentally stable than me. And that was the point I ended our toxic friendship. Part of me wishes she could've seen what came next but I am definitely better off without her.

2013-2016

At the end of 2012 I hacked off my hair, dyed it green and discovered a band called Fearless Vampire Killers (FVK). Then in April '13 I went to my first ever rock gig...and my second. This was the start of an epic three year adventure that led me all over the country mostly for FVK but it also inspired me to other adventures.

Meeting Laurence Beveridge, singer of FVK was a vital turning point - I lost 7 stone, dyed my hair a load more colours, got a bunch of tattoos, started painting again... Sadly in 2016 FVK broke up - I saw them 21 times.

 Weight loss 2012-2017

 Some of my paintings of Laurence

Some of my hair colours

In 2014 I acquired a black cat named Hennessy and went vegan.

In 2015 I became an ordained minister of the Universal Life Church. Yep, I'm the Rev'd Heggie ;) Mostly I looked up how people get ordained online and...oopsie!

Also during this period the opportunity to move back home came up. As my kids were growing up and there were precious few employment opportunities in Taunton I decided to make the move - but in summer 2017 when K had finished college.

Both my kids left secondary with an impressive array of GCSEs and continued on to (different) 6th form colleges. Erin passed her A levels and started at Winchester University in 2014; Kathleen had her heart set on Swansea. The move was 2 and a half years in the planning.

At the start of 2016 my job at CC ended as the offices closed. Shortly after I started another cleaning job in a school which was back to the split but no more early mornings and even the evening job was earlier - 1530-1770 - so far more manageable.

2017

I left my jobs in the summer, finished packing and moved to the new house. E got there a month beforehand; Hennessy moved in 10 days before K and I got there.

E and I had passed our degrees - I graduated OU in September with a 2:2 - BA (Hons) Humanities with Classical Studies. E graduated in October with a 2:1 - BA (Hons) Criminology and Sociology.

Unfortunately K's A-levels did not go well but many thanks to her then boyfriend for putting us onto uni foundation courses. It was all mayhem and chaos but we got her into the University of South Wales, found her somewhere to live and packed her off to the land of dragons.

Meanwhile E and I landed on our feet. Shortly after moving in E had a job offer from Lidl and while she was waiting for that to start she got a call on another job interview - which I ended up going to and got the job!

It wasn't great - contracted 4 hours a week, minimum wage and the travel expenses made it problematic but it was vital experience. When I'd been cleaning at the museum I'd applied for a proper job there several times before the manager told me I was getting automatically rejected because I didn't have any customer services or cash handling experience. Although I could no longer work there this shop job should tick those boxes if I ever got the chance to apply for a similar role.
Spoiler alert: Here endeth the good bit

2018

I had planned to do maybe 6 months experience at the shop before moving on but I'd started thinking I should give it a little longer as I had ended up becoming acting Deputy Manager of the branch! Figured that'd look pretty good on a CV.

So, I had been there almost 8 months and I was looking for something new. My contract was 4 hours a week but I was regularly working over 40 although not getting the sick pay or holiday to match. But the change that happened was out of the frying pan into the fire.

I have written other blog entries about my mum's stroke so I'll just do the short version here. April 16th my mum collapsed and was diagnosed 24 hours later (despite it being obvious from the get-go to us non-medical types) with a severe stroke affecting both hemispheres. She wasn't put on a stroke ward for the first week and she received no treatment.

I told everyone what was going on and explained I might have to just drop everything and go permanently; when we had a tentative discharge date I formally gave notice...but my supervisor didn't really believe I was leaving. By the time I got a leaving date set I was expected to learn a new computer system in my last week! It wasn't happening and I had a mid-shift meltdown. I walked out of my job with a handful of shifts left to go. I felt incredibly bad about it but I couldn't deal with the extra pointless stress - I should have left earlier but in all honesty we weren't convinced my mum would leave hospital at all.

My mum was released from hospital on June 21st and I have been looking after her ever since. It's not like I had an especially good or close relationship with her before. Also it means I have to endure my dad and stepdad's company far more than I would ever want to.

K passed her foundation course and transferred to Swansea to do the course she'd always intended to - aiming for a BSc (Hons) in Psychology and Criminology.

2019

E left her job early in the year after 18 months. She's now working in an admin job with much steadier hours. Hopefully, it'll work out for her. 

So here we are, at the end of the decade and I am in much the same place as I started - no job, no friends, no partner, no life. Stuck at home getting no exercise so I'm getting real fat again; no money, no personal freedom, and an endless cycle of laundry / dishes / cooking and cleaning. I HATE IT.

Everything I worked for has come to naught.

Sure, no one SAID life was supposed to be fair but REALLY??? I raise two kids 100% alone and just when they grow up and go off doing their own thing THIS happens. FIVE-AND-A-HALF years working my butt off for a degree and this is how I end up?! Ye gods, what did I do to deserve this karma???

There is only one way this ends and it's not gonna be pretty. Being effectively (experience-wise) a uni leaver in my forties is not a place you want to be, and of course depending on how long she hangs on it could be my fifties or later. My grandad lived 16* years after his stroke. I've told my kids to make sure I DON'T look after my dad or stepdad. Hit me with wet fish, have me sectioned - just don't let me go there. I can't do this again. I'm not exactly coping now - it requires copious amounts of Quince Gin just to get from day to day.

Remembering

• Kathleen Marie Keating Hogben (1919-2010), my great aunt who my youngest is named for
• David Penfold (1978-2012), who I was at primary school with 
• Sean Keating (1965-2014), my cousin 
• Callan McClintock (1998-2014), who my daughter Kathleen was at school with 
• Allister Keating (1963-2016), my cousin
• Rosalind Brenda 'Ben' Beckett Ling (1920-2018), my great aunt
• Michael Barter (1936-2019), ex husband of my godmother who lived on our road
• Serena Cheong Oi Yun (1984-2019), friend of many years 
• Gwendoline Joyce Beckett Oxenham Smith (1924-2019), my great aunt 
• Dave Rowlands (1938-2019), my uncle by marriage 

One Year Later

I just want to start by saying: this is MY blog. MY views, MY life experiences. I am very well aware that the person suffering most these past 12 months has been my mum. I know this because I have been witnessing it from the front row and what she is going through is just about the only thing scarier than what I am currently living.
Given that she watched her dad robbed of everything by stroke for sixteen years before his eventual demise and now she's living the same fate I am definitely up close and personal with the fear that this is my future too.

This past year I have discovered the trickery of time. The first week my mum was in hospital was far longer than the 51 weeks since. The 9.5 weeks she was in hospital were certainly longer than the 9.5 months which have followed.
This past year I have discovered a capacity for being at the brink of a nervous breakdown without actually tipping over the edge that I had never imagined someone of my dubious mental health to be capable of.
This past year I have discovered that ice running through your veins is not metaphorical but an actual physical sensation which is all kinds of unpleasant.
This year I have done things I never thought I'd be capable of and kind of wish I wasn't.
This past year I have discovered that gin solves nothing but fuck anyone who tells me to give it up. Do I give a shit for the state of my liver? No I bloody well do not!
This year I have discovered my ability to self-pity has no limits...

Approaching 40, and being curiously potato-like in visage and physique, I knew my chances of meeting a willing victim finding a life-partner and getting married were slimmer than I'd ever be. But you can't blame a spud for hoping. Following my mum's stroke however one of the hardest things to accept was that not only would I not have the opportunity to meet anyone (given that I barely leave the house) and that I present the least attractive prospect I ever have (living in ratty trackies and being zero income) but also I am now far too damaged to ever secure a mate.

Not to say that being a carer is always damaging or to such an extent but my life has been a series of unfortunate events from conception to the fact I woke up this morning. Nor is it to say that I've had it worse than anyone else - I just haven't got enough normal(ish) life experience to be relatable to someone who isn't as f*ck*d up as I am...and let's not go there. Not even to say that before this I felt sure I was capable of having a healthy relationship - just that I am now certain I could not. There are some things you just don't come back from. I may never have seen people getting blown apart in a war zone or whatever but *gazes off into middle-distance* I have seen things, things that stay with you...
Love is an act of courage. I'm all out. Could I take another risk? Nope. I've had all the hurt I can take and then some. I feel like an anti-gravity game of Jenga; there is literally nothing holding me together anymore.

This past week we've had a major scare - my mum had a fall. No injuries except badly damaged confidence that we feared, for several days, would lead to her never leaving her room again. She was literally terrified to move in case she fell...despite the fact that the only reason she'd been on the floor in the first place was that she'd accidentally rolled off her bed! Fortunately, she is now recovering her both confidence and strength following several days total inactivity.
There have been many times this past year I never expected we'd reach this anniversary; 365 days ago I didn't even expect she'd last the night. I never expected to give up my hopes & dreams, my job, my personal freedoms...but that's what happened. You just have to do what is needed. She never expected to be here either... We got her home from hospital, everyone's had a birthday, Halloween, one more family Christmas, sitting out in the sun or watching snow fall...now we're just waiting on her 1st Easter here and the anniversary of her moving in. After that we move into realms of repetition. Whodathunkit?!

We have no expectations for the year ahead - it will be what it will be.

Footnote
It's not just the situation with my mum leaving me barely hanging on...life continues outside our little bubble.
But sometimes it doesn't. 
A relative has recently gone onto palliative care. Several friends of my mum and stepdad are facing serious health problems; my stepdad spent the first couple of months of 2019 in and out of hospital - he's signed a Power of Attorney document so I can be responsible for him too if need be (HELP!). A former co-worker recently died (50), as well as an internet friend I'd known for around a decade (34). 
I could really use some positive life events...

Struggling

Moving to The Nook in August 2017 was an exciting but daunting prospect. I had moved to Somerset in 1997 in a determined effort to get away from my parents - it backfired; they bought a house down there where I lived for 19.5 years. Moving back to Reading was exciting because it offered me so many more opportunities (especially coinciding with my youngest going off to uni and my own graduation) but it also represented a huge step backwards.

I haven't moved back to square one exactly...I am in the house next door. So much closer to my dad than I would ever choose to be. But approaching 40 and still working part time as a cleaner, and with my parents in their 70s, I acknowledged it was the only logical thing to do.

Perhaps in some regards I have caused my own misery - I planned the move for 2.5 years, I bought new and new-to-me things to put in it, I imagined joining the local Egyptology society, finding a half decent job. Even after I realised my eldest would be moving in after uni I thought we're two adults sharing, I can have my life back.

And that is saying a lot. I went from an unhappy childhood to lone teenage parenthood where I stayed until my kids were full grown ready-to-vote adults. It's not a matter of getting my life BACK so much as finally being able to BEGIN.

How it actually worked out wasn't too bad, to begin with. The elder beastie and I found jobs straight off. Neither job was especially fabulous but Erin got a decent wage while I was gaining vitally important experience - I'd already been told I couldn't get my dream job because I had no experience of cash-handling or customer service. Those boxes were finally getting ticked. Six weeks later I graduated; a month after that it was Erin's turn. Autumn 2017 was all mortarboards and gowns ;)

We had a first Christmas at The Nook - the first time I had had a 'full' family Christmas since I was a nipper. There were only six of us but that was double the usual and it felt so important.

In March I had my 40th birthday. I don't mind being 40 but 41 still feels a step too far, which is unfortunate as it is now approaching particularly rapidly. By this point I was particularly stressed with work - my 4 hours a week sales assistant contract having been totally disregarded I was now often working 40+ hours and running the whole shop several days a week. I don't know how much clearer I could have been that I did not feel trained or prepared for such a level of responsibility...I was actively looking for another job.

Then it all changed.

I've already blogged about my mum's stroke but so newbies don't have to trawl through all my opinionated potato wafflings the basics are:

My mum suffered a severe stroke on 16th April 2018 affecting both hemispheres. She was not treated as such because they failed to diagnose her for 24 hours (apparently the NHS can only recognise strokes if they only affect one hemisphere, despite the fact it was bloody obvious to us laypersons and we said so repeatedly) they just offered support and physio through the worst of the aftermath. She was in hospital for 9.5 weeks.

There was never any question that she would come and live with me after. There just weren't any other options. Her flat was inaccessible to her.
Her partner's health was too poor to be her carer - he's been hospitalised several times already this year - and his house would have required adaptations. My stepdad rings every day to check in but I get so frustrated at hearing about him spending time with his mates or going out to play boules (or whatever it is). Does he think I *want* to hear that?! He has his freedom because I have the responsibility; I likely won't be seeing my friends again. TBH if it was down to him my mum would've had to go into a home cos he just couldn't have done the things I do. 
Even if she and my dad had still been together whilst his health is better he's still mid 70s, and again the house would need adapting. Even he talks about the difference all this makes to his life...he literally visits my mum an hour or two a day. From right next door. Yeah, sure, this has made a HUGE difference to your daily routine! 
I have no siblings. 

My house however needed no alterations although arrangements had to be made for Erin as my mum needed her bedroom. Also, I was her named next of kin and there was an Enduring Power of Attorney set up so I could take care of everything.
I gave notice at work although my coworkers struggled to understand - one coworker had a mother who was still independent after multiple strokes and, as is inevitable, people do see things through the lens of their own experiences. Even my aunt (my mother's sister) thought she would bounce back like her husband had. He had three strokes that March and by the time my mum had hers he was pottering at home again. That would have been fair enough but their father had suffered a severe stroke...I thought she would understand what we were facing.
One of the more difficult moments was when my dad acknowledged that my mum's stroke was much worse than her dad's. He lived 16 years with what seemed a very poor quality of life. They didn't know he'd suffered further strokes until after he died. Meanwhile, we're fairly sure my mum has already had subsequent strokes...

But I am not cut out to be a carer. Being stuck at home with my own kids drove me demented. I HATED IT. And I had every expectation of them growing up and leaving...I know damn well that there's only one way this can go...and when it's over I have my dad and my stepdad (who came into our lives when I was 29), both of whom have signed Power of Attorney documents putting me in charge. I feel crushed under the weight of responsibility I just don't want.
The stress is chronic. I want to run away, to be free, to live MY life at long last. I feel like I can't BREATHE.

Basically, I'm in mourning. For the life I never had. For the life I never will have. 
My kids' dad was nothing to write home about but there's a blog here somewhere if you really want to know. He was TOTALLY out of our lives when I was 20, before our youngest was born. Zero contact, zero child support. I've been on my own ever since. Now I have to accept being alone forever - even if I met someone (which I can't as I'm stuck at home) my mum wouldn't allow it.
The degree I worked my arse off for won't lead to anything. My CV is decades behind my chronological age. I'll never buy a house, or learn to drive or even just pay for a holiday. Anything I ever have will be inherited, I can't achieve anything for myself - not even a pension now.
No relationships, no friends, no career; not even a bog-standard job. None of those life landmark achievement things.

The best my life has ever been was my mid-life crisis (age 33-38 in my case). It was the point my kids were old enough to do their own thing while I could enjoy the little disposable income I had going to rock gigs, fucking up my hair and getting tattoos.
Dealing with the fact that was it, all the life of my own I'm gonna get, is something I just can't wrap my head around.
What's more is that in that time I lost a load of weight and actually whipped my fat butt into a halfway decent shape. Now I can't get out I'm getting fat again. And I'm drinking a helluva lot.

I don't want my mum to go but I know it's gonna happen, sooner rather than later most likely. I know that what she's going through is worse than what I'm going through but...

• when she's gone her sufferings will be over; I will still have responsibility for my dad (EPoA to be activated) and stepdad (LPoA pending). There isn't an end when the end comes.
• My mum's mum died of stroke, albeit at 95; as I mentioned above her dad died 16 years after a severe stroke. From the day it happened I've been feeling a nasty fear that this is also my personal future...and not one that can be avoided by any means. So who gives a fuck about the diet and alcohol?

I feel like I'm being selfish but I *am* doing the best I can by my mum. I just want there to be something for ME as well, y'know?!

9 weeks plus three? four?! I lose count...

Monday 16th April to Thursday 21st June

It's just the early hours of the 21st BUT...my mum is coming home today!!! I am roughly equal parts excited, relieved and terrified.

It's a new chapter of all our lives. It's tremendous that we finally made it to this point. But I am totally aware of how difficult this is likely to be. I just got my life back after raising my kids, I was enjoying my new-found freedoms...and now it's gone. Not gonna lie, that makes me sad. I was going to Bristol to see Ashestoangels on Sunday night and now that's gone. This last year I went to TVAES lectures...now that's out too.

I know it's pretty selfish but I never had much of a life. I went from being a kid to a teen mum and then after a brief midlife crisis I'm gonna be a full-time carer. No career, no relationships. It's difficult.

Day Sixty...I think?

It has been eight and a half weeks since my mum was taken into hospital following a severe stroke affecting both hemispheres of her brain.

My mum is doing okay and a couple of days ago we had a home assessment to see what my mum's needs will be...that went really well as the house was considered very suitable and they think mum can come home ahead of the ballpark "early July" we were previously told. In fact, it might be at the end of next week!

On the downside we're not getting a lot of support. The home physiotherapy service has already notified us there's likely to be a very long wait and, despite my mum only being able to walk very short distances with a frame and me not driving, she hasn't even been deemed in need of a wheelchair! Bloody ridiculous IMHO.

My cancer scare may yet turn out to be nothing (please keep everything crossed for me!) as my smear test came back normal. No idea what on earth it could be but personally I'm hoping for it to be something menopause related. Yes, I'm 'only' 40 but it's been a very real possibility since surgery when I was 29. The colposcopy is booked for the same day my mum's big meeting to arrange her discharge is scheduled. 

So that's the good(ish) news. On the more difficult side we have the fact I left my job almost a week ago. Unscheduled. I had given notice but a change of computer system and being expected to learn all these new procedures for the sake of a handful more shifts got me stressed out of my gourd until I felt I had no choice but to walk out.

It wasn't bad timing either as the next day my mum had a fall in the hospital and has been really shaken and upset ever since. She is TERRIFIED they'll find a reason she can't come home. It has been a great relief to know I can be there every day to support her.

Then there's the thing where my dad, who is my next door neighbour and my mum's ex partner (by about 14 years at this point), got mortally offended that he "wasn't invited*" to the home assessment mentioned before that he's now not talking to me and hasn't been back to visit my mum. Absolutely pathetic! Unfortunately, the home assessment was nothing to do with him, not to mention that my mum didn't want him there and neither did I...also, he didn't help me prepare for it and actually got in my way quite a lot.

Not that he has to help me as an adult or my mum as his ex the sudden change of heart has made things a good bit more difficult. I kind of hope it's just that the stress of the whole situation has got to him and he'll come around but he has a loooong track record of this sh*t so I won't hold my breath.

*Incidentally, he has never invited me over to his house (assuming we can exclude him asking me to check his emails and the like) and that's INCLUDING the 20 years we lived in Somerset. All the times I visited it was me asking if we could come up.

So yeah, that's where we're at. My mum has times when she wishes she hadn't survived but as someone I know went through that just last week - he mother passed just 2 days after a stroke - I am immensely grateful my mum is still with me and with as much of her abilities and personality intact as she has. We could have lost her in more ways than just by death.

Not gonna lie though, this is by far the most stressful experience of my life...I can only imagine how much worse it must be for my mum.

UPDATE
The colposcopy was fine - no idea what was causing the severe, heavy, prolonged, non-menstrual bleeding but it may have been stress related as it turned out one of my daughters was having the exact same thing!

Day 28

I can't cope.

My mum has been in hospital for four weeks now and it seems to be all about complications and apathy. Without going into too much detail she has a medical condition but is on a rehab ward with no doctor; we got a duty doctor called but he arrived at 3am, my mum was asleep so he didn't bother to see her OR organise any follow-up. She's in a lot of pain and distress; they've done NO follow-up testing to see if the treatments are even working and they give her paracetamol only occasionally. On top of that she's at serious risk of dehydration because she just can't / won't drink enough. I'm looking at having to quit work now so I can look after her while she's still in hospital because it's that bad!

The cat's paw thankfully seems to have healed, the plumbing crisis has been fixed (thank you, dad!) but naturally now *I* am having a health scare too.

The bit that finished me off though was my daughter's uni finances application which I hate on principal and always get super stressed out over but this time ended up with the entire family screaming and me getting the blame for everything. My father started banging on "there's no point having a panic attack" ...well thanks for that astute observation you absolute FUCKTARD! Not like it's a matter of choice and you're not bloody helping. Complete bloody moron.

I just want everything to STOP.

Day Nineteen

My mum is starting to make some baby steps toward progress. We guessed at the outset that this was going to be a long hard journey...I don't especially like being right but I feel it's better to plan for the hard stuff than setting yourself up for disappointment expecting it to be easy. I'd rather fear a difficult recuperation and be right (or pleasantly surprised if it's 'not that bad') than anticipate a speedy recovery and be disheartened.

So...she's starting to spend a bit more time awake and alert; she's doing better enunciating and projecting her voice - more than half the trouble understanding her is how quietly she's been talking, especially difficult in a noisy ward with lots of distractions.

Tonight though we had a little bit of a hiccup. Toward the end of our visit my mum asked if her parents were alright...

As I said in an earlier post my grandad, her dad, was left severely incapacitated from a stroke. He died, aged 91, in 2000 from related causes. Her mum died, aged 95, just a matter of weeks later - also, as it turns out, from a stroke.

My mum cared for them from the outset right to the very end so the fact she'd lost track of those memories came as quite a shock. Not only that, but they died a long time ago - back when my kids were really small so the fact she recognises them as being adults (and me as a middle-aged woman) seems a tad incongruous.

At the same time I'm seeing it as progress - she's thinking more about life outside of her hospital bed, of people and things that are important to her...even if she's getting a bit muddled on the details.

She took the 'news' pretty well. Thankfully it didn't seem like she was going to grieve them over again. However, she is starting to get a tad depressed as the realisation of how ill she's been starts to dawn on her. For two and a half weeks she's been in a weird kind of bubble of existing in a hospital bed and just accepting that's how things are but now she's remembering a life outside of that and feeling frustrated she isn't better yet...there's a lot of hard stuff still to come, I think.

Understanding and Forgiveness

This blog is directly linked to my last: '22 - 40 - 70-something'

I have always been the sort of mum to talk to my kids; to explain things that are going on in an age appropriate way and not to hide stuff from them. One thing that particularly bugs me is parents who, when expecting a new baby, avoid having The Talk with their kids when it's the perfect opportunity to do so. My daughter Erin was 4 when her great granddad died and like everything else I explained to her why everyone was sad but that he had been very ill for a long time. Just as at age 2 I explained how she was going to become a big sister and at 5 and a half I explained 9/11 to her as best I could.

I did not have a happy childhood. One of the worst parts was being at a certain primary school, between the ages of 6.5 and 9.5, where I had a rough time being bullied by my teacher. I felt that by age 9 my parents, my mother especially, had lost all interest in me. In trying to explain what was happening at school I was told to "fight your own battles" which a kid of that age clearly can't do and I felt utterly abandoned. In year 5 I finally got out of that school but the damage was done; beyond criticising my grades and perceived lack of effort at school they didn't seem to care anymore, then, when my behaviour deteriorated in consequence, that was just another thing to have a go at me for.

Despite now being 40 I have had a realisation about all this just in these last couple of weeks - and more than ever I advocate HONESTY and talking to even very young children.

When I was 6 years old my parents moved house (to a fixer-upper, they would spend YEARS putting it right) and I was enrolled at that school where I had such a hard time. Also when I was 6 my granddad had a severe and debilitating stroke; he died when I was 22. Although I associate my difficulties with a few years later I now see the connection.

Sadly I only came to this realisation now my own situation mirrors it somewhat. I moved into this house (with a fair few teething troubles) nearly 9 months ago, I have been struggling with stress in my 'new' job...and now my mum has had severe and debilitating strokes. On the plus side my children are now 19 & 22 and far better equipped to understand and deal with my being extremely worried and distracted.

Now I realise what a tough time my parents were going through, my mother especially. Obviously I knew my granddad was ill and in hospital, later that he was home and disabled but, as I saw it, he was old and that happens. I don't think I especially lacked empathy for my mother but I certainly didn't understand just how stressful it was for her - because she didn't tell me - maybe it sounds ridiculous but even as a full-grown adult with full-grown adult children of my own I could not have imagined just 3 weeks ago how traumatic this would be. I knew my mum was worried when her dad was in hospital and later I knew she had a rough time caring for her parents so that they could stay in their own home, but only now do I get an inkling of what that entailed.

I wish my parents had talked to me more, back then especially but at all other times as well; I wish that I had had a better chance to understand. Maybe I'd still have been a needy little shit but I could have tried to add less to their burdens.

As the only child of a stay-at-home mum I expected more attention - I literally got picked on because other kids were jealous I had that, but it sucked being so alone all the time. Kids NEED parenting support, I can't judge myself too harshly for wanting something I needed so badly.

I do feel bad that I've been a teenager, an adult, a mum since then and I still didn't get it but it's the domino effect. Because of how I grew up feeling neglected I've seen the world in a certain light, and at no point over the years have we talked about what happened with my granddad and how it affected our family. I wish I had come to understand this without my mother having to go through all this - sadly it may be true that you can't understand until you have walked in someone else's shoes... Maybe it would have been different if I had ever related my childhood experience with my granddad's stroke.

Over the last 2 weeks I have had an awakening - I understand so much more what was going on in my childhood and how that has affected my relationship with my parents right up to the present day. I even understand better why they reacted so badly to my teenage pregnancies. They were going through so much but I just thought, because of the suffering I was going through, that they hated me. Finally, I feel like I can forgive.

22 - 40 - 70-something

When my mum turned 40 I was 6. Her dad was 75...and that's when he had a severe and debilitating stroke. He lived another 16 years, dying in 2000 when I was 22.

I have a 22 year old daughter. I turned 40 a month ago. I feel like I have aged 40 years in the last week: my 73-and-a-half year old mum just had a stroke.

On Sunday my mum came over for a roast dinner. We talked for hours. I keep thinking of odd things that came up - like her spotting my old baby blanket (which was also my daughters' when they came along) in my cat's wicker carrying basket, or her interest in modern washable sanitary pads

Just over 24 hours and a migraine later I was just about to step into the shower when I heard the phone ring. My 22 year old daughter, Erin, answered and a moment later said, perfectly calmly, "Mum, emergency". In fact, it was so calm that's what got my attention. It still seems weird that it all began so low-key.

My stepdad had been trying to get hold of my mum - she spends most of her time with him but still has a flat here; she values her freedom and independence - she finally answered and he couldn't understand her. He rang me and raised the alarm. Erin and I don't drive but my dad lives next door...minutes later we were tearing across town, split between fearing the worst, and imagining how pissed my mum would be for us pestering her!

I've hardly known which way was up since then. This week has been all about difficult phone calls and decisions and whole lot of adulting...I just want to do colouring in my blanket fort!

My mum is stable and has finally been moved onto a specialist stroke unit but I don't feel like the stress will let up any time soon.

I am so grateful I had my kids young. I couldn't imagine going through this with a 6 year old to look after. Think about that if you're ever inclined to judge teen parents!

I'm glad I had such a good mid-life crisis.


Update:
I described that first week as the longest seventeen months of my life. When we got past the seventeen month mark we agreed that for a randomly selected time period it was pretty spot-on. 
Mum's stroke was described as 'severe' and she had multiple points of damage in both hemispheres.

Despicable Heggie

Okay...so today is my 40th birthday (UGH!) and...where to begin?

So it all started with work, where there are helium balloons, and ever since I started there I wanted to buy Minions balloons for my birthday. And that is just what I did. A dozen Minion balloons just for me.

BUT I had never seen ANY of the films. I just thought the little Twinkie-looking critters were cute.

My eldest, Erin, got me a whole bunch of DVDs and I bet you can guess what (if you can't, I fear you).

We just watched Despicable Me and all I can say is as a film about my life it's not particularly accurate but...I LOVE IT!

I am Gru.

I acquired children, two girls not three unless I have miscounted, with somewhat misguided intentions. Not in the attempt of accomplishing the crime-of-the-century but in the attempt of keeping the man I was with. Not in the usual sense of entrapment (*glares at my mother meaningfully*) but because he claimed to want a family.

Yeah, right. That lasted all of about five minutes. He *ahem* off and I got screwed over, literally and figuratively. As a homeless 17 year old I didn't think I could cope and begged to put my poor elder beastie up for adoption. Fortunately no one listened.

Three years later, exact same scenario, exact same guy. Look. I never said I was smart. In fact, a high IQ has absolutely no correlation to common sense. I am / was / ever more shall be a complete dumbass. Got it?! 

I went from struggling to get by to absolutely shitting it. At one point, when my kids were 4 and 1, I actually dragged them to Social Services and BEGGED them to take my kids cos I couldn't cope. They ignored me. I was living hand-to-mouth with virtually no adult contact and my kids were *ahem* not the easiest of little cherubs. 

The point is, like Gru, I didn't think my [evil] plan through and ultimately I love my kids and am so glad I got to raise them. Being a single parent on welfare is SHIT. I got zero support. I had a health visitor who scared the bejeezus outta me talking about her psychiatrist. My parents...HMMMM...they felt that the best thing was to compel me to step up by means of their not helping me out. Not saying they were necessarily WRONG just that it was harsh and the fact the three of us are still alive to tell the tale is probably just sheer dumb luck.

That bit where Gru's girls are destroying EVERYTHING? Utterly relatable. If I'd had access to a freeze ray they'd still be defrosting! (*thinks about that time K poisoned the ketchup / curried her sister's shoes / painted herself blue / got drunk on sherry AGE 4 / salad-creamed her sister in bed etc*)

I wish I'd done better.

I wish I hadn't fucked up once...instead of the 57,73,888,947,465,635,434 times I actually did.

I wish I had possessed even ONE maternal instinct.

I wish it had only taken me the length of a kids' movie to accept the situation and step up.

I wish I'd got my kids all the fluffiest unicorns.

I wish I'd read all the bedtime stories. Even though Erni would've pitched seven fits and hurled all the books like an anti-literature poltergeist.

Why? Because now my kids are adults and I can't turn back time. Because now the hard times have passed it's hard even for me to understand why I was struggling so badly. Because I am so proud of the young women my daughters have become in spite of being burdened with a mum like me.

I am sorry, kids. I love you. I am proud of you. 

You did me good. I only wish I had been good for you, too.

Graduating

2017 was always going to be a big year. I realised this in 1999 when I realised that my daughters would be turning 21 and 18 a week apart. Later came the academic milestone expectations and a planned relocation. And now I am marking the surviving of all that.

So yeah, in January my kids hit their landmark birthdays. That was all about alcohol not least of all as two of us were also 3rd year uni students:

This summer was all about the move. We got into our new house - Erin on July 3rd, Hennessy on July 28th I think? Kathleen and I on August 7th. (see my YouTube tour 😉). Then came the bizarre graduation season. Erin got her results before me AND she beat me in grades (GIT) but the important thing was...I GRADUATED FIRST!!!

Sorry (not sorry) but I started my uni journey on February 4th 2012 - which is before she even sat her GCSEs!!! - it seemed so unfair that she should get in there first. Anyway, I graduated in Brighton on September 16th. I got a BA (Hons) Humanities with Classical Studies from the Open University.

This is a selfie I took when I first got into the auditorium cos the chance to get a full family photo was too good to miss. Behind me L-R: Neville (my stepdad), Janet (my mum), Owen (my dad), Kathleen (my youngest), Erin (my eldest). The people behind are not mine.

I really tried to get my hair dark green (think Dre Ronayne or Kiera Rose) but once again I got a mess of blue-green. What was bizarre was I wasn't the only one!!! Not even two but three of us at the same ceremony. There weren't any others though - no just green or just blue, no sunshine yellow, pillar box red, purple or pink. Just three blue-green haired graduates out of about 400. Author, actress and former CBeebies presenter Cerrie Burnell was awarded an honorary degree at the same ceremony.

Erin got her turn on October 18th. She got a BA (Hons) Criminology and Sociology from Winchester University:

Only Kathleen and I could attend her ceremony but my dad, mum and Neville all watched the live broadcast via YouTube. Naturally I had to do some comparisons of our gowns:

Don't we look smart??? During the midst of all this Kathleen left to start her own university journey. She's moved to Wales (hope she doesn't get eaten by the dragons!) and will be gone FOUR YEARS!

So now my household is myself, Erin and Hennessy - Erin and I both have new jobs and we're trying to figure out how to live...it's the first time off welfare in my life and I am only working part time but I desperately need the experience. Hopefully, eventually, my degree will pay off. In the meantime at least I am not cleaning loos anymore! Going up in the world lol.

Kierless Vampire Killers at ShieldFest

17 July 2016

Bridgend, Wales

A Few Months Before

I'd contemplated going to ShieldFest (in Swansea) in 2015 but financial restraints meant I ended opting for Macmillan Fest (in Nottingham) a few months later. As it happened this was a truly blessed decision for me. Nottingham was great but a cancer charity festival was where I needed to be the day after I heard my cousin's prognosis had gone from bad to worse. He died on April 21st this year - exactly a year after I first learned his diagnosis.

So when ShieldFest 2016 was announced with FVK headlining I was keen to go this time. A friend of mine, M, is at uni in Swansea and I didn't know if she was going to be there over the summer or not. I asked if she was interested, she was, and I booked us a twin room in Bridgend for the convenience. As it turned out she wasn't going to be in Wales over the summer anyway so the room was definitely a good move.

4 July 2016

FVK did the thing (see previous blog entry). ShieldFest was quickly announced as the ONLY remaining show they would be playing, cancelling all other appearances. Naturally Lost Hearts who'd opted for other shows like Reading, Leeds, Truck Fest or Butserfest wanted to get to South Wales instead. I chased up M (who'd been avoiding me) and she confirmed she wasn't going...in fact she hasn't spoken to me since. No idea why - possibly the way I tore apart a particularly idiotic article (which blamed women who act with caution / use self defense for other women being raped - sorry, but it was VILE) she'd reposted on FB.

Anyway, I now had a spare bed I offered up and was accepted. I was also able to offer another couple a room for the night of the 16th so they could travel up for the show. Nice to be of use to someone for a change :)

I looked forward to the gig (my 19th) with some trepidation...they'd announced the show would be sans Kier Kemp but I had no doubts they'd do just fine without him. no, what worried me was that it'd be sad. That it'd end up being a sob-fest and depressing. That 'Kierless Vampire Killers' would take it as an ending, not a bright new beginning.

I decided to wear the outfit I'd planned for Reading which had been intended for outdoors and being seen at a distance...very anti goth. Boy, was I gonna stand out like the middle-aged idiot I am!

17 July 2016

No idea what was going on cos the first train was uncommonly packed for a Sunday, I was on the edge of a panic attack by the time I got to Bristol Parkway. It was the same again on the way home - really horrible conditions and so hot!

Got into Bridgend a bit early for the hotel check in and while we were lurking outside Drew came by and it was hugs all round - there are good and valid reasons I love these guys so much. Booked in, showered, got changed and then spent entirely too long getting up the nerve to go out in my extremely silly outfit so that I missed the first two bands.

• Clear The Auditorium - The only other band on the bill that I'd seen before...and their last show as a band too :'(
• Far From History - far from being my thing, soz
• Veridian - ditto
• All To Ruin - these guys were great, very much enjoyed their set
• Junior - I was flagging a bit by this point so I didn't really get into them
• More Than Most - heard great things about this band so I watched with interest and they were indeed pretty good

I'd heard At War With The Thirst was going to make a reappearance on the set list but it was still a helluva surprise to hear them open with it as it's always been a closing track (in my experience anyway)...anyway it was best not to play it last what with the "go home / go away" refrain...it was also a bit of a surprise to hear Laurence sing lead on Kier songs but it went down really well. I screamed entirely too loudly when they announced Fetish For The Finite - most unseemly - but I am always thrilled to hear that one.

Drew's set list

As anticipated the show was an absolute belter. Emotions were running high but I think on the whole we held it together pretty well. They finished on 'Could We Burn, Darling?' which was brilliant. Laurence announced his intention to go into the audience:

Drew: That's a bit risky

Laurence: Risky? What they gonna to me?

Drew: Maul ya.

- everyone was waving 'thank you' signs, there was confetti and bubble guns...it was really magical.

My thank you sign - with various releases in the letters

I had painted a thank you sign to match the effort I did for a fan lyric video. I took it off the frame and had it rolled up in my bag. As they were leaving immediately after their set I was scared I'd miss my chance so I nabbed Laurence for a hug and gave him a letter I'd written them all...and, without entirely meaning to, the painting too.

My effort for the for Remember My Name fan lyric video - with various songs in the letters

After the set the emotions kicked in...I went into ubermum mode handing out pocket tissues and giving hugs. Not only out of consideration for others but, as I said before, to trying to keep the mood in the room as positive as possible. As my pinned tweet at the time said: save the tears for the hotel.

 10th photo with the bae

Naturally I still lurked for another hug and photo with Laurence. While we were waiting Pillnahn brought a bunch of us beers which was pretty damn cool :) Showed Laurence my tattoo and adorably he critiqued his handwriting - I asked him if he'd write me out some more, which he very kindly did and I'll be getting that inked next. The first - Tu eris in solis radios aurorae - is "you'll be there in the sun's first rays of the morning" and this is "you'll be here in my blood til the day I die" also from City Falls To Dust...a lyric that has seemed really apt since the split.

 More Latin

Got a hug with Shane too, and another from Drew before we got booted out. Then we lurked outside. There was a really nice vibe to it all, actually. Everyone seemed more talkative than usual, or maybe it was just that I was just hanging with the in crowd for a change...a real family feel to it all. I swear, I love this fandom so much. We lurked out back while KVK packed up their van, then there were more photos, more hugs, a group pic...poor Laurence was trying to get everyone in the van before Shane got too tired to drive them home and it just wasn't happening! Again with the ubermum I told Drew to make sure they did pull up for a break if need be. Yet another hug from Laurence and Drew...so many hugs! Actually resorted to poking Luke and demanding a hug cos I seemed to be constantly on the wrong side of him and I wasn't agreeable to missing out!

I don't think it'd even be possible to not enjoy a Fearless - or Kierless - Vampire Killers gig, but this was an incredibly special one, for all it may have been the last...whatever comes next it's going to be brilliant and I will be there every step of the way.

 Love these guys - Lost Hearts forever!!!