My Mum ruled OK - The final scene!

Unfortunately I've got really 'jagged edges' this morning, friends called last night to tell me a good friend and work mate had died very suddenly and completely unexpectedly and I am so annoyed! Its that anger you have to get through before grieving, its the bit where you give 'him up there' earache big style and the sentences are full of 'why'!

So instead of sticking in chronological order with my mother and her antics I will do 'The End' now so then I can cry for Keith as well, and at least you wont be expecting it and then I can go back to happier times next week.

From about 55 my mother was beset by oesteo arthritis which she was most put out about. She dutifully consulted Doctors and would come home with bottles of pills and chuck them in the bin. She read up on the condition, altered her already healthy diet to include more watercress, Vitamin B and fish oils. She would not give up her dressmaking but drew and painted less as her hands turned into crone's claws amazingly quickly. She despised chemical interference and went down the route of alternative medicine to obtain relief, she visited homeopathic gurus, a chiropractr, and if she could have found a witch I don't doubt she would have gone there as well, such was her determination not to resort to pills.

At the same time as this was going on dad was diagnosed with diabetes, the more aggressive type, and had to take insulin injections daily. Thanks to mum he never even missed a day off work, she monitored his diet like a hawk, nagged whenever necessary but could not stop the depression that overtook him on ocassions when he worried about his sight and what the future held. Their relationship floundered somewhat as their individual frustrations in their failing health grew. The rows had to be heard to be believed and the amount of plates that got broke made you think of a Greek restaurant. They still managed to go on holiday, and day trips, by train of course. They still had their amazing garden with the eleven stripey lawns, a cat called Susie which they doted on and their first grandchild, my eldest son. He too had a lovely time playing in the chapel on the old rope swing and spent hours with my mum listening to her tales in front of the black leaded range in the back kitchen.

Dad died suddenly and mum was left with the rambly house, the quirky gardens and a chapel. It was all she could do to wander round 'the estate' by then and a little old man with one eye was employed to cut the grass and the hedges and keep the place tidy. Following a brief stay in hospital mum realised her best bet to remain independant was to move to 'Death Row' as she referred to the old peoples bungalows in the village. The house was sold to a lovely couple who lavished TLC on the house and the gardens and mum was well pleased with her choice of buyer - yes- she interviewed all prospective purchasers and ruled out builders, mechanics and those who seemed 'odd'!

Mum did not take to 'Death Row' and the 'interference' of the warden, the Health visitor, the social worker, she had been used to the space and freedom of a large garden and an orchard and now her privacy was being invaded! Her close friends would visit regularly, the vicar would call in, she liked to cross swords with him, she knew her bible! It was then she really copped a double whammy - struggling to maintain her independence with oesto arthritis, a trip to the hospital revealed bowel cancer, an operation left her with a colostomy, which she christened 'Fred'! She refused all follow up treatment, chemo, radiotherapy - you name it -she refused it! She dismissed the Mcmillan nurses and told them, 'never to darken the doorstep again' as for the Doctor well she gave him his character on a regular basis especially when he offered her painkilling drugs. She never took as much as one paracetamol throughout! She drank dandelion coffee with brandy in if she needed to relax and that was it! "OK I'm dying - well I'm not going to miss a minute of what I've got left - so get the car and lets go somewhere nice for Sunday lunch -somwhere with white damask tablecloths and silver cutlery, fresh flowers and good wine!"

Very often she could not finish the meal but she enjoyed the occasion. That last summer was spent in a whirl as she reeled off a list of people to see, places to go things to do! But as autumn came she retreated to the safety of her front room and 'held court' as her friends helped me with her care, the little old man with the one eye who cut the grass at the old house became a regular caller, now was that a brandy bottle behind the newspaper or what? She disliked 'Death Row' even more as she became unable to escape and we agreed that the garage of the new house we were to move into in October could become a 'granny flat'. The builders were slower than slow and the due date for moving in came and went.

Mum's birthday was 17 December and she requested her Christmas dinner for that day, ' Well if I don't make it to Christmas Day I will miss my Christmas dinner and I can't be doing that can I? - fancy popping off without Christmas dinner - persish the thought!'
So in the midst of packing up to move house I cooked a full blown Christmas dinner, pudding doused in brandy - the lot!

We moved house on the 22 December, the concrete was still damp in places, the first thing we did was put up the Christmas tree. The builders were returning to do the granny flat on 4th January. Christmas day was quiet, she had known she would not be able to eat by then, she saw the boys with their presents she had bought and on Boxing Day she asked for the Doctor. She wanted to go into hospital for a bath, she was so uncomfortable, she wanted to be clean and comfortable in a bed with white sheets and a green nightdress.

And so it was, right to the end she ordered exactly what she wanted. It was done and I sat there by the bed with the crisp white sheets as she wore her best green silk nightdress, her hair was washed and fresh and was long on her shoulders, blonde now instead of the firey red of years ago...... and that was it! Within the hour of arriving at hospital which caused all sorts of problems for them, not her, she had gone.

The builders arrived to do the granny flat on the day of her funeral, I sent them away, it was too late. The undertaker gently told me that they could bury her ashes with my father's and stood back in amazement when I burst out laughing! 'Yes - do that, with love from me! But if the grass above them starts to smoke and look singed dont blame me!'

My only regret is that she never saw my youngest son, he's tall with red hair and the cornflower blue eyes, the dry sense of humour and a sense of the ridiculous to match hers, she would have loved him dearly.....


And now I can have a good cry,,,for her,,,for the past ,,,for our friend Keith ...and his devasted family and all my friends at work who are all crying too............