The beginning of the end?

This past week has been very hard. Mum’s condition has deteriorated significantly, both physically and mentally. She has been having some very disturbing and distressing dreams (e.g., the other night she woke in the middle of the night, terrified, and convinced that someone was in her bedroom, wanting to do her harm). 

Today she was admitted to Greenwich Hospital for symptom management. At this stage I’m not sure how long she will be there, as there are two possible scenarios: 

The first is that she may have a urinary tract or other infection that could be responsible for her increased weakness, fatigue and mental confusion. The hospital will be performing tests to check out this possibility, and if it is the case, there will be a relatively easy fix, with some simple antibiotics, and she may start feeling better and be able to come home soon. 

The second scenario is that the symptoms are just part of the next phase of Mum’s all-too-gradual decline, and if that is the case, the doctor predicted that she probably won’t come home from this hospital visit. 

I am exhausted and emotionally wrung out, and whenever someone asks me how I am, my standard response is to burst into tears and say, “I was ok till you asked me how I am”.

The day before yesterday I posted all Mum's Christmas cards, with a note inside to catch people (who she only has contact with once a year) up on her cancer situation. I predicted to someone that once these cards reached their destinations I would be deluged with phone calls. Just got home from the hospital and the first of the, "I was so shocked to get your letter. Call me," messages has arrived. I might think about calling back tomorrow or maybe Sunday. 

(A friend has given me some wise advice to change our answering machine message to say that things are hectic and it might take a while for me to call back, and tell the hospital and close friends to call my mobile rather than the landline... But right now I'm curling up with some single malt scotch for a quiet night.)

I’m glad Mum’s in hospital, even though she’s not at all happy to be there (but she said that she’s glad that it will at least give me a break). The team at Greenwich are amazing, and once again I am very grateful for the things that they are able to offer Mum in so many aspects of her care. 

I hate that Mum is generally miserable, and suffering so much with pain, extreme weakness and mental confusion (and especially that she is sharply aware of the fact that she’s losing the plot mentally). Everything is such hard work for her and she has very little quality of life right now. For a while I have been praying for her to die, that she will let go and allow God to take her. For those of you who are praying people, I ask that you please do the same. It’s just too cruel to see her the way she is now.