The doctor warned us this would be a rollercoaster. I’ve always rather liked exciting rides. Not this one. This is a ride I can’t get off. But, after the desperate dips of the last few weeks, we now seem to be on the long straight stretch – and I have no idea if at the end we plummet down a horrible frightening fall, or slowly tantalisingly rise up to new heights. It’s a rollercoater ride with blindfolds.
Mum is off the critical list, and has been transferred to Belfast, alert enough to know who we are and what is going on. Great for us to have a little of her back (albeit a silent, parlaysed her) but awful for her as she is trapped inside a redundent body unable to express herself other than through half a smile and two bright blue terrified eyes. On good days, when she recognises me and touches my face, I am strengthened – like my lipstick reward of old when the taste of her lipstick when she kissed me as a child made me feel invinsible. On bad days when she is lost to me, I can hardly muster the strength to keep going. I spoon feed my mother, and come home to feed my children. I rub moisturiser on her drying out skin, and come home and rub oil on my newborn’s growing skin. Two ends of the lifecycle spectrum and I am in the middle.
But. I must learn from my parent to be a parent. She taught me to carry on and find the good in the bad. Yesterday my baby smiled at me for the first time, and so did my mum. A new phase begins. A long phase of development and rehabilitation. They both need me….. and those smiles will have to give me the strength. Thank you also for all your good wishes and thoughts – my friends keep me going too…..