Oh dear God no.
For the second week in a row I actually have a story that I can post, but for the second week in a row it is a sad and depressing affair, so apologies for lack of hilarity, but I'd imagine a few of the replies this week will be quite similar. Skip this one if you're after comedy.

In an odd twist, this kind of ties in with last weeks question, although it is a very good example of Karma just not working at all. My dear old Mum was the best mum in the world. I'm sure everyone thinks theirs is, but mine really was. She was a quiet, decent person who would do anything for anybody. Her whole life was spent looking after me and my Dad and their little council house here in Scotland. She never asked for much, never hurt a soul and never complained about the lemons life handed her. And it handed them out in spades.

I was a second child, my older brother had been still born. After I was born my Mum got a wee job as a home help which she loved, until her eyes started to hurt and her balance went.... conjunctivitis was diagnosed, but it later turned out it was sarcoidosis, a pretty rare disease. Not only that, it was neurosarcoidosis, it was affecting her brain and lungs as well. This disease is apparently mostly associated with afro-carribean men, not tiny wee ladies from rural scotland, but although she lost her job and was embarrased because she thought people would think her staggers meant she was drunk, she was still cheery. Then she was diagnosed with cancer. The steroid medication she was on for the sarcoidosis meant chemotherapy was out, so she had to have a mastectomy. Thankfully it was successful, but my Mum was an intensely private person and the whole experience was a terrible ordeal for her. Six years later, she was diagnosed with stomach cancer which by that time had spread to her liver. We waited while the doctors decided what to do, all the while knowing deep down that there was very little they could.... she was so frail that chemotherapy would have been very dangerous, and operating seemed unlikely. It all went very quickly after that, she was put on morphine (she had been coping with the pain of stomach cancer with co-codamol, which she laughed about minutes after being diagnosed!) and started to become more and more distant. When we knew nothing could be done, we got a hospital bed installed in our living room so she could come home, but my Mum being my Mum, she wouldn't allow us to help her. She got home about a week after diagnosis, by then too weak to stand up but she wouldn't allow us to help her in and out of bed, she wouldn't use her commode and she wouldn't let us give her her medication. She went back into a local hospital the next day, by then she wasn't really that aware of what was going on around her. That was on a saturday, by monday she had gone downhill. She couldn't move or communicate, and every breath she took she let out a pained groan. Anyone who has been through this will know how hard it is to watch a loved one suffer so much, and after a few hours my Mum's sister's told us to go home and get some rest for an hour or two. While I lay on my bed at home, I prayed to God to end my mum's suffering even though I'm not a religious person, and when we returned later to the hospital and sat down around her bed, she stopped breathing for a few seconds. We took her hands in ours and told her it was OK to go, and she slipped away. As she went, her eyes cleared and suddenly she looked calm, then she slipped away.

Although she had been in pain for months, the whole episode from going into hospital to the end was one month. It sounds strange to say, but I'm thankful that it was so fast. I had heard it said many times before (ex wife was a nurse) that once someone is gone, all that is left is a shell, but as I looked at my mum for the last time it really did seem that way.

My Mum had suffered a lot throughout her life, and she was only 57 when she died. Looking at her there on the hospital bed, she looked quite peaceful and finally free of pain. I'll never forget the way she looked as she passed away though.... I have my own views about that moment which I'll keep to myself, I know how cynical you lot are.

This baring your soul on the QOTW is quite cathartic really, if you're like me and don't talk about these things much. Still, I hope next week offers me a chance to crack some jokes.
( baw__bag contains traces of nuts on, Thu 28 Feb 2008, 16:56, 2 replies)

Cheers to your mum
she sounds like the best to me.
(Lurkaloid awarded wanking black belt on, Thu 28 Feb 2008, 17:47, closed)

there are some things
that make you cry - my mother is going in for tests next week. I think she might be as good as yours.
(devasa, Thu 28 Feb 2008, 23:47, closed)