Retroexposure

The Battle: Regrets and Reality Bites

Saturday 21st February 2009
I must start looking after myself, otherwise I'll be following Mum sooner than I should. I'm not exercising; I'm eating too much. Its fruit, so that's not too bad, but it's the large portions I give myself. And crisps too. Why am I doing this to myself? Obvious answer really, comfort eating. I did it before – after Dad died. And I'm doing it again, only this time Mum hasn't gone yet!
I told Mum that I did ask the doctors for their prognosis. When she asked if she would see the year out – I couldn't look her in the eye. The ceiling in Mum's bedroom has a really nice bobble pattern (!) From what I know, she realises that the likelihood of her driving by her anniversary is very slim. What she doesn't know is that from the nurse's point of view, she'll be trying to stay alive at the same point. That's a little over 3 months from now.
I'm shit scared now. I'm going to be emotionally crippled. I can't lose my family. I've not made Mum a mother-in-law (though with the current choice of girls interested in me, I think she'd rather have my ex as a daughter in law!) but more importantly – I never made her a grandma – sorry a Nanna. Mum always said that she never wanted to be Gran, granny or grandma.
I'm sorry Mum. I let you down; I fucked up my 20s. I didn't meet a girl and settle down to give you the family that you wanted. I wanted to make you proud of me. And now this fucking cancer has robbed me of the time to change my life around and show you.

Saturday 28th February 2009

They say that you speak the truth when you are drunk, right? Well, I'm very drunk, so lets see what comes out! I'll be honest. I'm scared. I may be repeating myself, but frankly, who cares. I realise that my birthday, (just gone) and Mum's (this coming Wednesday), may very well be Mum's last. I hope to God that it isn't. But when you see famous cancer stricken patients end up in Hospices, like Jade, or die, like Wendy Richard, you realise just how short life can be. I feel as though Mum is withering away in front of me and there is nothing I can do about it. On Monday I'm expecting a call from a representative of the Macmillan Cancer Trust. I've no idea what I'm going to say to her. Mum isn't honest with me as to how much pain she is in. I tried to pull her up on it yesterday. Not sure how much attention she gave me!
We got hold of a wheelchair last Wednesday, which was Ash Wednesday as it happens. Mum wanted to go, but I'm glad she wasn't well enough to make it. Some guy was getting buried on the Thursday, so his coffin was lying in state on Wednesday night! So instead of following the Ash Wednesday mass, all that was going through my head was: "who would sit with me on the front row at Mum's funeral?" If I'm honest, the thought scares the shit out of me! I don't know if I can cope! Not going to write anymore – starting to lose the will to think!