The Night Before

Tuesday 12th February 2013

Today is the day that Mum is going into hospital in preparation for her surgery tomorrow.  She is going in the night before as there is no way she would be physically able to get up and be there by 7am tomorrow.  She currently struggles to get up and get dressed before midday.  I have arranged for Dylan to switch his days at nursery this week so that Oli can take him and collect him and I can stay in Reading.  He is doing an extra half day this afternoon so that I can have dinner with Mum and Dad and accompany Mum into the hospital this evening. 

I dropped Dylan off at nursery at 1pm and found it quite hard leaving him.  I'm not used to being away from him overnight and I'm really uncertain about what is likely to happen in Reading over the next few days, so although I plan to be back on Thursday night this could all change.  Dylan had a big tantrum when I left him.  I took his coat off and went to hang it up on his peg with his bag while he lay on the floor crying.  I was going back to pick him up and give him a cuddle when one of the nursery assistants picked him up and whisked him off round the corner where he couldn't see me.  He was reaching out for me as she walked away with him and his eyes were full of tears.  I felt really sad that I never got to say goodbye to him properly, but I also knew that I was probably being oversensitive as I'm in for a tough few days.

I arrived in Reading just after 3pm and spent a relaxing few hours with Mum, drinking tea, doing word searches and watching her favourite quiz show 'The Chase'.  Dad made dinner and the three of us ate together before departing for the hospital at 6.30pm.  I know Mum found it very difficult leaving the house as I imagine she is wondering if she will ever be back in this house again.  She was sat on the chair beside her bed putting her shoes on and she looked at me, her eyes full of tears and said, "What if I don't come back?".  I held her hands and said what anyone would say, "Of course you will come back, you'll be fine!".   We all know that she will never be fine again and that this operation is the last chance to make sure that she can be as comfortable as possible when she dies and not have to die a painful death.  Part of me thinks it would be better for her to die in theatre and not come round because then she won't have to suffer anymore and she won't have to live with the colostomy bag.  I obviously don't tell her this, but I am getting myself mentally prepared for it.

So, we took a very tearful and weary Mum into The Royal Berkshire Hospital and made our way up to Heygroves Surgical Ward.  I think Mum is relieved that she is not going to Adelaide Ward (the Cancer Ward), as I still think she has a fear of dying in the same place where Janet died.  As soon as we walked through the doors she said, "I absolutely hate hospitals."  Heygroves Ward is a bit manic when we arrive and we have to wait 10 minutes before a very abrupt nurse shows us to Mum's room.  Thankfully she is in a side room on her own and won't have the worry of not being able to sleep in a busy ward full of people.  However, the downside is that as soon as we have been shown to the side room we appear to be completely forgotten about for the next hour and a half.

Eventually Dad goes to enquire if anyone is coming to see us and they do confirm that they have indeed forgotten about us.  Dad asks if we can go through Mum's medication with them as she is due to take tablets very soon.  The abrupt nurse tells us not to worry about meds as they will sort everything out.  However, when Dad tells her that Mum is on 37 tablets a day, the nurse can't quite believe it and begins to take us a bit more seriously.  I wonder if they are even aware that she has terminal cancer.  It certainly doesn't instill much confidence in me.  It's not long until we get the ball rolling and are introduced to Lucy, the nurse who will be looking after Mum tonight.  A nice chap called Ben who is a Health Care Assistant comes in to fit Mum with surgical stockings and she instantly recognises him from M&S as he used to work in the Food Hall.  He recognises her too and is sad to learn that she has cancer and acknowledges the change from healthy person to very sick person.  Lucy administers her wrist bands and goes through the routine admissions stuff, before calling for a doctor who will write up all her meds.

The doctor arrives shortly afterwards and I again wonder if she has any idea that Mum has terminal cancer.  Having listened to Mum's story and talked about her existing pain, the doctor thinks Mum would be an ideal candidate for a PCA (patient-controlled analgesics) machine.  This means that Mum will be able to self-administer pain medication intravenously by using a computerised pump.  This solution sounds ideal as we are expecting her to be in a lot more pain following surgery and we don't want her to have to suffer waiting for medication to be brought to her.

When we have finished seeing everyone and got Mum into her pyjamas and settled into bed we decide it's time to make a move.  I asked Dad if he could leave me with Mum for 5 minutes on my own before we go home, as there are a few things I want to say to her.  I'm not convinced that she will get through tomorrow and I want to make sure that I have said everything I want to.  I gave her a card to open which actually Oli chose for her.  It says "To the world you may be one person, but to one person you are the world."  Mum is quite together and tells me that she feels very loved, not just by her family but by everyone she knows.  She is touched by the visits she has had from people, phone calls and cards she has received.  I tell her that it's because she is so likable and she has touched many people's lives.  She tells me that she is so proud of David and I, and that many people have commented on what a brilliant job she has done of bringing us up.  I just hope that I can be as good a Mum to my children as she has been to us.  I feel incredibly sad leaving her alone tonight. 

I hardly slept a wink!