Tis I the Fluff

Busy busy busy busy. I have one more trip to make tonight to a friends to drop off her xmas present, then I will be in hibernation house mode. Speaking of the house it desperately needs to be cleaned. In that annoying way that men of my dad's generation are it generally falls on me to do the brunt of the housework. I don't really mind, true enough its not on my scale of fun things to do but there is a certain sense of satisfaction that surveying all the clean space around me brings. However this cleaning lark dropped off since I started studying for my exams a few weeks ago and having social engagements every night since they ended (yes been out every night for two weeks, yes am exhausted, yes have reached end of sociable tether)means that I am rather horrified as I survey the piles of rubble and rubbish where there used to be clean floor. In fairness to him he cleaned the kitchen and his tv room and it looks great but he's been off work since last friday, it would have been nice if the cleaning extended into the hall or indeed the landing.

On top of this I couldn't find nice flowers for my Mam's grave so instead bought bunches of holly, leaf twiggy things with red berries and pussy willow in a moment of madness thinking "I can make a wreath/arrangement". Clearly I must have been on crack while thinking this, my fingers are so black they have almost fallen off and I have never done a flower arrangement in my life not to mention the whole lack of time thing. I bought some florists wire and this other gold wire stuff so hopefully I should be able to cobble something together that dosen't look like a deranged three year old did it. Hey does tinsel go funky outside? I was thinking of winding some tinsel around the dodgey bits (you know there will be dodgey bits) but am wondering if it will look ok when it rains?

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Ok off to friends, pick up some redbull on the way home then attempt to build a wreath. You have no idea how tempting my bed is right now....

Today marks the 364th day of my mothers death. According to the old wives tales you need a year and a day to grieve. That way you get all the "first" anniversaries out of the way. Yeaaah.

Truthfully I cannot believe almost a year has past since she left. The time between her getting sick, getting diagnosed and ultimately passing away was four months. A whirlwind of sickness and death. The days after felt so long as my mind caught up with what had happened. There is so so much care involved in someone so sick making sure they are comfortable,clean, that the pill scheduale is adhered to (of utmost importance when its pain relief we are talking about)not to mention entertaining them, knowing when they need company, knowing when to shoo the ever present visitors away, the many many many questions to ask of social workers, hospice nurses, community nurses. We did this for less then a week but it was one of the most exhausting stressful miserable periods in my life. With that comes the guilt. It was my mother not some stranger I should feel blessed that we had the time with her, to look after her. Instead all I feel is a bitterness, that life is so unfair, that hideous cancers still have no cure. Most of all I am incredibly angry at god. Furious. Not because she got sick but because of all the cancers out there she got this one. This one that is hard to diagnose until its too late, this one where the only treatments involved are a huge surgery if it is diagnosed in time or palliative care to preserve quality of life in the remaining time they have left. Which more often then not is less then a year.

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So today is mothers day this side of the pond. I can't help but think of this day last year. When she was still alive. We hadn't yet learnt the cause of her being in pain and so tired. She was in good spirits though. The doctors had started to get her pain under control which while good made her more sleepy as a result of the high does of meds needed to manage it. Still though it was a beautiful day so we went outside and spent an hour wandering around the grounds of the hospital, her admiring the flowers coming out in bloom and me slightly panting as I pushed the chair up an incline to get to the rosebushes she loved. We sat there beside the rose bushes her in her chair me on the bench and I took out one of her presents, a freshly made coffee slice from the local bakery. We made small talk, she liked to know what was going on in the outside world with our family, the neighbours, my friends... She started to get breathless and it was time to go back inside, to get her back to her oxygen. Once back inside, she opened the rest of her presents, an outfit for her homecoming (even though we didn't know when that would be), a set of books and a small pot of flowers, mini daffodils. She loved those and sitting here today I can see the ceramic pot they were in on my desk. The daffodils are gone like her. She wore her outfit when she came home and then again a week and half later when she was buried. She was too tired to read the books. They still sit on her bedside table.

Today the weather is reflecting my mood. Grey clouds with an occsional heavy shower interspered with golden bursts of sunlight. In a few hours I will put flowers on her grave. I haven't been to see her since christmas. I've used the excuse of my car being broken as the reason I haven't gone up to the grave. I prefer not to dig too hard to find the real reason. Happy Mothers day. It will be less painful next year I hope.

I just realised this Sunday is the last Sunday I will be 26. I've come to the conclusion that it's not so much my birthday I dislike but endings. Its rather like a great movie. Although you enjoy the ending you can't help wishing it would go on forever because your just enjoying being in the present so much watching it. I'm not a fan of change, never have been and I don't want to be 27. When I was 26 my Mam was still alive. When I turn 27 she won't be there to give me my birthday card. Or for that matter to remind my Dad it's my birthday. Both of us are so crap at remembering dates it was Mam who always gave us the nudge that it was so and so's birthday and did we want to get a present. Sigh. Popular belief says it take a year and a day to grieve for someone. That way all the first anniverseries are over with. It dosen't mention just how sucky it is having to go through the anniverseries though.

In Dad news he went to the Doctor after I made the appointment for him (he wasn't happy about that) and the Doctor told him he must cut out alcohol, that the pain in his stomach and chest he's getting is from that. He also put him on daily medication which when I google the name of says it's for treatment of "reflux oesophagitis, duodenal and benign gastric ulcers, including those complicating NSAID therapy. Healing and prophylaxis of NSAID-associated benign gastric ulcers and duodenal ulcers. H. pylori eradication in peptic ulcer disease. Prophylaxis of acid aspiration. Zollinger-Ellison Syndrome."* Lovely. He also told Dad he wanted him to go for some blood tests. Dad refused point blank to go to the hospital so the Doc said he would do the blood draw in the surgery. It was the same Doctor that treated Mam. He drew bloods from her too. I'd be lying if I said the paralells didn't make me extremely uneasy. I think Dad feels the same. He came home in a rage saying no Doctor was going to tell him what to do especially one whos only half his age (yes he has problems taking advice from young'ns). I calmed him down saying we'd see how the ground lies when he gets the results of the blood test back. I also pointed out it was nearly ten years since he had gone for a checkup and it might not be such a bad idea for the Doc to be a little more thourogh then he would be for a usual annual checkup. I managed to calm him down enough that he rang the surgery and confirmed he would be in for the blood test on Tuesday. So thats the first hurdle out of the way. I am probably overreacting but I am slooowly starting to freak the fuck out on the inside.

*yes Dr. Google is not my friend, I don't take stuff from the interweb as gospel.

Xmas day wasn't as bad as I anticipated. In fact other then a trip to the cemetary to lay a wreath on the grave and having an empty seat at the dinner table it was much like any other xmas. In a way it was quite peaceful knowing that this year none of the family would be expecting us to visit or indeed to answer the phone. After a fabulous dinner made by yours truely Da and I both retreated to our respective rooms, Da to read his new book that I got him and myself to sleep off the stodge. Thanks to the wonder that is digital tv I wasn't forced to watch xmas tv but instead watched eygpt day on discovery. I loves me some documenteries.

I have been feeling very unsocial lately and I've tried not to take it out on my friends when they text and ring me. I know they are just doing it out of worry for me and I'm determined to step out of this rut I find myself in, sooooo I am going to a new years eve dinner a friend is throwing. It will be full of couples most of whom I know quite well. I have't really shared this but lately I have been feeling resentment toward all these happy couples in my life. I could have really done with someone to lean on when Mam died, still could to be honest. It would be lovely to wake up with someone and lean in for a morning cuddle. The dog just isn't the same! I'm in a bit of a dating funk. I think Dave* has withdrawn from me a bit, we've gone two days without im'ing. I know xmas isn't a fabulous time of year what with his Mam gone but I get the feeling something else is going on. I also got an email from one of the guys on OKC who disappeared off the map. It turns out after we traded numbers he met a girl and has been seeing her since. Thats cool but dammit its typical! Still at least he had the manners to let me know.

Anyways back to the dinner. I'm going but have decided not to stay to ring the new year in. I think I might lose the reason if 12 comes clanging around and I have to witness all the couples smooching. So at 10.30 - 11pm I will retreat home to my bed with a sleeping pill and wake up bright and fresh on new years day. A fabulous plan I think.

Less of the bitter betty and more of the calm cathy I think...

*internet guy I met on OKC. Not his real name.

So....that was quite the bitter babble yesterday. Most days I'm fine but this pressure has been building and building and building and along with the fun that college exams brings finally exploded. I don't want to come off a horrible scrooge but I'm so fed up of people expecting presents off me and making comments when I don't give them their chocolates/scarf/boardgame. Plus the whole expectation of "its the holiday season you have to be happy!!!!!!!!!" is annoying the tits off me. I mean the only present I can get my mother this year is flowers on her grave. How fucked up is that.

Yesterday was all souls day.

Newadvent.org says "The theological basis for the feast is the doctrine that the souls which, on departing from the body, are not perfectly cleansed from venial sins, or have not fully atoned for past transgressions, are debarred from the Beatific Vision, and that the faithful on earth can help them by prayers, almsdeeds and especially by the sacrifice of the Mass."

Part of what bugs me about the catholic faith is its fixation on sin. The only way your sin can be absolved is through confession. If you die before your confession is heard by a priest you die in sin. My mother was a good and loving person and I refuse to believe that she died in sin. What she went through in the weeks leading up to her death, the pain etc, well if she blamed god or got angry and sinned, she had more then enough reason to.

Nevertheless my father and I went to the mass of the dead last night. It was surprising how many people where there. I have been so caught up in my mothers passing I hadn't realised other people, other loved ones had passed. I guess I insulated myself in a way while trying to process what had happened. It's hard enough to cope with your own tradgedy without having to deal with that of others. Much of the congregation was elderly. It brought home how young mam was when she died. However a lot more was heartbreakingly young. It made me thankful of the years I had with Mam. Looking at people, the way some of them sat, the numbness frozen on their faces, I could tell the loss was very recent.

Its a strange feeling, praying for the soul of your mother. Hoping that your prayers will pave her way to heaven. Hoping that if there is a god he will hear your prayers. It's not altogether a nice feeling.

The great thing about living where I live is that within an hour of landing at the airport I am sitting here blogging from the comfort of my sofa.

The good and bad thing about being on a plane is that for the duration of the flight you have to surrender to the fact that all you can do is sit there until you arrive at your destination. For the past few months I haven't permitted myself just to sit and switch off. I'm been afraid of where my thoughts go. I get brief glimpses on my commute home from work and they are unsettling to say the least. I can usually manage to shut them off with the distraction of my ipod or magazine. Tonight gazing out at the inky blackness with a thousand orange lights blinking below I had neither so was forced to confront the thoughts.

It's getting harder to pretend everything is fine. Tommorrow marks the six month anniversay of Mam's death. Its gone by in the blink of an eye with a speed that leaves me reeling. Shouldn't I be starting to accept the fact she's gone? Its still so so raw. I've begun to have dreams of Dad dying, me finding him alone and cold, looking like he's asleep but being unable to wake him. So I've stopped sleeping. It's easier then going through the same event night after night.

I will have to admit defeat soon. I'm tired. I'm getting sicker easier. It's not healthy imposing a self enforced insomnia on my body no matter what solace my mind receives from it. I hate the fact I've been unable to overcome these feelings and may have to resort to professional help. I've managed in the past - an acrimonious breakup, hurtful things by so called friends, mean comments from former co workers, being let down, being made to feel worthless - I've managed to deal with all these myself and come out the other side I like to think stronger. This however is another beast altogther. All my previously tried and trusted methods have failed rather miserabley.

I've noticed I've become more withdrawn from my friends and from the internet folk. I just can't bring myself to carry on the charade that everything is fine. It's too much energy for no gain. I was in London visiting a friend for the weekend and it was exhausting putting on the happy face particularly as she and her bf are going through some hard times. I was there for her all ears as she was telling me the story of how they have ended up in the predicament they are in. As soon as she started asking how I was doing I changed the subject.

I know I need help but I just can't bring myself to ask or accept it.

Soon though. Hopefully soon.

I confess I'm finding it harder to visit Mam's grave. Its not so much the graveside and the sadness that goes with that (although thats no walk in the park) its when I enter the cemetary there are so so many graves. Hundreds of people. People who lived to a hundred and four and babies who were born as "angels" (particularly heartbreaking). You can't help but read some of the gravestones. Each one has a note at the bottom. Sometimes I avert my eyes feeling that this is a personal message between the deceased and their loved ones and I have no business snooping. I get upset when I see graves that haven't been tended, they are overgrown with weeds the stone hidden by time and dirt. It gives the impression that time makes you forget and this is what I find most distressing. Perhaps if the grave itself is quite old all the deceased loved ones are also deceased? I miss her terribly and visiting this place hammers home that I will never see her again.

Mam's gravestone is ordered and will be going up in the next few weeks. I'm having a hard time dealing with this. It's so final. I see newly erected gravestones besides Mam's neighbours and it looks like they are softening the ground on the next section up in preperation for opening. Mam's grave is at the back of the cemetary. When I stare past her grave the surrounding area is still countryside with fields and lots of trees. I'm worried when more graves are opened, more people laid to rest that her grave will look like all the others. That I might not be able to find it as easily as I do now (I am notorious for no sense of direction).

When I was up there this evening weeding and sweeping a ginny jo caught my eye. I looked up and there where hundreds of them floating elegantly in the air and when the sunshine hit them they looked like delicate snowflakes. There were birds flying in and out of the hedges. I saw two magpies. Dead heading some flowers on her grave I came upon a ladybird going about her business. With death all around there is still life. It makes it a little easier. As I gathered up my trowels and various gardening implements and walked down toward the main avenue a hare caught my eye. The first time I visited the grave by myself I saw a hare. I was upset then as I was now and this lovely creature with it shiny liquid eyes and gorgeous coat distracted me. I stood in front of him and he stared at me stretching up on his hindlegs with his ears and nose twitching. We stayed like that for a few seconds before he scampered off. As I continued on slowly I could see him keeping pace with me through the gravestones. The sun came out and the marble and granite lit up like mirrors. I was all alone there, midweek seems to be an unpopular time to visit. The sun moved behind me and my shadow lengthened and I stared down at it. Larger then life. Gazing to my right there was another shadow walking beside with me for a split second. I turned but there wasn't anyone there. Looking back the shadow had gone. A trick of the light? Maybe, I don't know.

During my typical sunday meandering through the dubyadubyadubya I happened upon a blog - http://toddlerplanet.wordpress.com/

A few weeks ago whymommy was diagnosed with a type of breast cancer that is quite rare, not your garden variety breast cancer - inflammatory breast cancer. This comes with the added attraction of no lumps or strange bumps which you might be unlucky enough to find during your self exam (which you all do of course). Whymommy was nursing her wee one and has had to wean because of the diagnosis. Worringly enough this type of cancer can often be diagnosed as mastitis. Please please please copy and paste this onto your blog. Since my Mam passed in april raising cancer awareness among my friends outside the internet box has become a bit of an obsession. I will be printing this post off and encouraging them to spread the word. I'd appreciate if you could do the same and help whymommy out. Below is a entry copy and pasted from her blog with her permission.

Thanks for reading my loves.

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We hear a lot about breast cancer these days. One in eight women will be diagnosed with breast cancer in their lifetimes, and there are millions living with it in the U.S. today alone. But did you know that there is more than one type of breast cancer?

I didn’t. I thought that breast cancer was all the same. I figured that if I did my monthly breast self-exams, and found no lump, I’d be fine.

Oops. It turns out that you don’t have to have a lump to have breast cancer. Six weeks ago, I went to my OB/GYN because my breast felt funny. It was red, hot, inflamed, and the skin looked…funny. But there was no lump, so I wasn’t worried. I should have been. After a round of antibiotics didn’t clear up the inflammation, my doctor sent me to a breast specialist and did a skin punch biopsy. That test showed that I have inflammatory breast cancer, a very aggressive cancer that can be deadly.

Inflammatory breast cancer is often misdiagnosed as mastitis because many doctors have never seen it before and consider it rare. “Rare” or not, there are over 100,000 women in the U.S. with this cancer right now; only half will survive five years. Please call your OB/GYN if you experience several of the following symptoms in your breast, or any unusual changes: redness, rapid increase in size of one breast, persistent itching of breast or nipple, thickening of breast tissue, stabbing pain, soreness, swelling under the arm, dimpling or ridging (for example, when you take your bra off, the bra marks stay – for a while), flattening or retracting of the nipple, or a texture that looks or feels like an orange (called peau d’orange). Ask if your GYN is familiar with inflammatory breast cancer, and tell her that you’re concerned and want to come in to rule it out.

There is more than one kind of breast cancer. Inflammatory breast cancer is the most aggressive form of breast cancer out there, and early detection is critical. It’s not usually detected by mammogram. It does not usually present with a lump. It may be overlooked with all of the changes that our breasts undergo during the years when we’re pregnant and/or nursing our little ones. It’s important not to miss this one.

Inflammatory breast cancer is detected by women and their doctors who notice a change in one of their breasts. If you notice a change, call your doctor today. Tell her about it. Tell her that you have a friend with this disease, and it’s trying to kill her. Now you know what I wish I had known before six weeks ago.

You don’t have to have a lump to have breast cancer.



P.S. Feel free to steal this post too. I’d be happy for anyone in the blogosphere to take it and put it on their site, no questions asked. Dress it up, dress it down, let it run around the place barefoot. I don’t care. But I want the word to get out. I don’t want another young mom — or old man — or anyone in between — to have to stare at this thing on their chest and wonder, is it mastitis? Is it a rash? Am I overreacting? This cancer moves FAST, and early detection and treatment is critical for survival.

Thank you