Mothering Sunday, two years ago, it felt like I was barely alive. I was stuck in hospital. But it was thanks to my mum that I wasn’t dead. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to express just how grateful I am to her.
I hadn’t long been out of intensive care. I was rushed there the day after my massive cancer-removing, life-saving operation. While I was recovering from the surgery, I slept pretty much all the time, but suddenly without warning I quietly stopped breathing. It was my mum, who’d been sitting beside my bed, realised that something was badly wrong and raised the alarm. She saved my life. For the second time.
The first time was much less dramatic. A month or so previously I’d had some worrying symptoms. The severe pain had been dismissed by a couple of medical professionals. They’d said it was probably nothing to worry about. My mum wasn’t convinced and made sure that I went for some proper tests. She was right to make me see my consultants. She ensured that I survived.
Then…
That Mothering Sunday in hospital in 2012 I felt so incredibly ill. I’d lost a huge amount of weight and could hardly walk. I didn’t realise how frail I was at the time. Mum and dad visited that afternoon. It wasn’t your usual Mothering Sunday. We chatted in the ward’s television room. I got there with the help of a walking frame. For the past couple of weeks I hadn’t been able to sit in a chair without collapsing so for me these were big achievements. We celebrated that I’d made it through the worse.
I’ve been thinking about this recently as I accidentally came across some photos a few days ago from that Mothering Sunday. To be honest I can’t really remember them being taken. My cancer treatment over the past two years seems so much of a blur. Perhaps it’s easier to forget many things. Last Mothering Sunday I was bang in the middle of more chemo.
But this year is so different.
The chemo cocktails are finished. Hopefully it’ll be a long while before I need any more. I don’t feel ill, I feel brilliant. I’m still very tired but I just have to pace myself.
…now
I haven’t been able to do too much lately other than concentrate on recovering and getting my normal life back. Plus I’ve been planning a few more things from my List for Living. I’m now settled in my own home in the countryside. I’m very much enjoying number 1 and 2 on my bucket list!
Compared to the past couple of years, I feel so much better. But there is something else that makes this Mothering Sunday so special. While you read this I could well be baking or boiling or maybe burning. This year, for the first time since getting cancer, I’m cooking a family lunch for Mothering Sunday. It’s a very small way of saying thank you. However lunch turns out, this will be a very happy Mothering Sunday.
helenfawkes 