Like sands through the hour glass

Well you know the rest.
As Time continues to pass us all by. This weekend I made the choice to be more proactive that I have been recently.
Although the alure of sleeping late, doing nothing and then bitching about why I get no sleep on sunday night/monday morning has clearly been high on my adgenda recently. I choose to do something different this weekend.

I went to bed at a reasonable hour, got up at a reasonable hour, drove around and did a few little things that I had been needing today.
Yesterday while on my way to breakfast.. I had rememered staring at the fridge for the 209824938 time thinking "god I wish you were clean" then closing the fridge and going about my business.
I decided that enough was enough and on the way home I stopped by to pick up an array of cleaning products.
Then I spent approximately 1.5 hours cleaning the fridge and the oven.

It's not that I hate cleaning.. but believe me I am no domestic godess and I hate ironing so much that I actually analyse the need for ironing when I am purchasing new items of clothing.

I will be the first too admit that my mother did everything for us.
She obsessivly cleaned the house, washed our sheets, did our ironing, dusted, vaccumed, mopped. You name it she did it. Daily, Weekly, Monthly.

When my mum got sick she insisted that I learnt how to do an array of domestic chores.. Such as knowing how to clean a toilet and bathroom properly.
I guess I resented this in a way because she wasnt grabbing my brothers by the arms and throwing them into the bathroom to learn how to scrub a bathtub just right.

As time as gone on, I have learnt to hate these mundane tasks more and more.
I will do them. Of course because I am not a dirty person.. I am a messy person.. but not a dirty person.

But it took me staring at the fridge for the upteenth time to know that it needed to be cleaned and organised.

Of course now that the fridge was clean. The pantry needed to be cleaned.
So thats my task for today. I am covered in flour and sugar... The bin is stocked full of rubbish. There are more bottles for the recyling bin than ever before.

Normally the thought of this would make me cringe.. but right now I am channeling my mum. I know it sounds stupid but she would be proud that I am not sitting on my ass.. well I am right now.. but I wont be in 5 minutes when I am back into my task.
She'd be proud that I saw something that needed to be done, and I did it.
Because that's what she would do.

There will come a day, when I can look in the mirror and know that all the good parts of her.. can in someway live on in me.
Even if its just in the way I clean the fridge, or the toilet or the sink.

Thats comforting when It seems like its all i've got left

Secrets and lies part 2

Following on from my previous post.

After losing her 2 first children my grandmother began to slowly put the peices of her life back togerther.
Eventually she met a lovely man, who would become her husband.
She had two beautiful children and was living a happy and contented life with a man who loved. They had built a wonderful family.
Her husband then suffered a heart attack and died.
Young still and alone with two young children my grandmother fought to make it on her own.

Working as a cook she met a charming and attractive older gentlemen who had not long returned from the second world war.
They began to have an affair at first it was all roses, but then he began to change.
He became aggressive and violent able to turn on my grandmother at any moment.
Time passed and unable to leave the abusive relationship, my grandmother again fell pregnant.
When she told him of this, he told her if she didn't "fix the problem" that he would "fix it for her"
My grandmother had no choice but to have a backyard abortion. The abortion led to complications due to the way it was done and she bled so much that she almost died.

Still after this experience she was not able to free herself from the clutches of his man. Time passed and regretably she fell pregnant again.
This time she was pregnant with my mother.

My grandmother stood up to him and told him it was over her dead body that she was terminating the pregnancy.He would beat her frequently.

Thankfully my mother was born safe and well.
Around the time of my mothers birth the physical relationship between the two of them ended.
My mother was the child of two unwed alcoholics. Astrasized from both side of her family. My grandmother struggled to put food on the table for her children.
While my grandfathers family who was notably well off refused to support or help more than a few occasional weekend visits.
During this time my grandfather would go over and beat my grandmother.
His family knew this was happening and allowed it.

Probably the biggest family secret of all is that although my aunt has never said anything, we are pretty sure she was abused sexually by my grandfather.
There were often times that he was left alone with her two older children while he worked. He would at times "discpline them" but it is a general concencious in our family that this is a strong possibility. My aunt is a wonderful person but she has major difficulty in showing love or affection. Mostly to her own children.
There was a time in my life when we lived close to our grandfather.. I assume that my mother found out or suspected the abuse. Within 2 weeks we had moved states, as my mum couldn't stand to look out the window as it looked directly down to his house by the water.

So there you have it, just a few of my family secrets

Secrets and lies part 1

Growing up my mother was always very cautious about the information she shared about her up bringing. I know that she did not have an easy or pleasant child hood.
When I was about 17 I began to ask more and more questions about my mothers family.

When my grandmother was 17 she fell in love.. great yes?
Nope. She fell in love with a man who she didn't know was married.
Soon enough she was pregnant. 60+ Years ago the technologly wasn't what it is now there was no POAS or beta's to let her know she was expecting.
Being young and nieve she continued living her life, loving this man.
Eventually when she admited to herself she was pregnant this nice loving man turned on her saying that he wanted nothing to do with her. Naturally she was devestated.
When she was almost 8 months along she went into premature labour. Taken to place that specialized in the "unwed" mothers department. Here is where it gets fuzzy, as her labour progressed she was given medication that rendered her almost unable to function.She was able to give birth, to twins.
Immediatly following the birth she was given more medication that rendered her unconcious.

When she awoke and asked for HER children.
She was told that they were both still born and had died.

As my mother sat there and told me this story my jaw dropped to the floor.
"But that's what they would say when they were going to give children up for adoption without the parents consent"

This happened quite often in Australia in the 30's + 40's right up until the 60's.
Women told there babies had died in order to place them for adoption.
Young single mothers who had been taken advantage of.

My grandmother never saw those children.
Haunted by the painful memories of a love that had been so cruel.
She never tried to find out if they were really alive.
I understand that it would have been painful, and confusing to a young women.

Before my mother died we contemplated trying to track down the records of the children's birth. Being that it was almost 70 years ago it would have been understanably hard.

Sometimes I can't help but wonder.
Do I really have more aunty's or uncles out there?
Are they still alive? Did they have a good life?

Sadly I think these questions will always remain unanswered.

Cancer hell # 2

I told myself I wasn't going to write about this til I was ready.
After finishing "My sisters keeper"
I am ready.

Shortly after my mum was diagnosed, My aunt passed away. She was 43 years old and had been battling cancer also. She was in so much pain, but in denial about her death. She was lucid, not with it... Her last words , were "air" as she took her last breath.

My mum was a trooper, when she was given between 3 weeks and a year to live. She said to the world, fuck those odds.
The treatment she was given was simple, chemo, radiation, chemo, radiation, chemo, chemo, radiation.
Followed by numerous medications. She had complications, blood clots. The chemo made her sick obviously, but it also made her well, in between cycles she would bounce back.
I dont know many people who've lived long with 13 metasitized tumors, that would never shrink with treatment, but they wouldn't grow either.
The first few months brought calm.
After my grandmother died in december, all hell broke loose.
I had just broken up with my girlfriend at the time, noticeably devastated about my mothers impending death, I decided it was a great idea to finanically fend for myself and take a full time job and so I did.
I struggled with deep depression at this time, I found it hard to enjoy ANYTHING. From food, to music, to any of the little things in life that you just love for no real reason.
One day I was in a mood, my mum asked me a question. I didn't immdiately respond. She snapped. 13 Tumors.. i know again with the numbers litterred through her brain, made her do stupid things. Including come at me.She pounded away at my face, I shielded my face the best I could. She still had strength. I refused to defend myself until she went to the kitchen draw and took out a knife.
"GET OUT " she screamed, I never want to see you again get out.
My dad was home at the time and was noticeably shocked.
So what do you do, dying wife or troubled daughter.
yeah, wife.
I think you should go.
I packed some of my things, mostly things for work. I had to keep something consistent in my life. Off I went.
My friend A had just been kicked outta home, she was staying with a friend who had a large rental property with several rooms. The day stayed there every few weeks. I went into there not knowing what to expect. I cried my pour little eyes out. Not understanding what I'd done wrong.
It's not her, its the cancer. But its hard, abuse like that is hard to take.
Not the physical abuse, the emotional abuse. The words that came out of her mouth stung me like 1000 bee's piercing into my soul.
Fuck what now.
I lay awake on the floor of that 2 meter by 2 meter room. Not knowing what I would do next.
The fight happened to fall on the Sunday, 2 days before my birthday.
I heard from my dad, and he said they wanted me to come home to discuss what had happened.
I was given a porcelain doll for my 19th birthday there was nothing less in this world I could have wanted, I know.. I know it sounds greedy a gift is a gift. But I hated it, my mum was an impulse shopper.. and during her illness she brought some of the most random shit you could ever find.
That day, my birthday the asked me to move back home. Saturday I was around at the house packing my things.
Moving out of that house was the hardest thing I ever had to do. Probably will be one of the hardest things I will EVER do.
I look back now, and can thing of all the regrets I should have. But I don't.
I missed spending every last spare minute of my mothers dying year.
But I also made that sacrifice in order for our relationship to be salvaged.
I didn't want to fight with her, but the truth is.. I was still a teenager.. her only daughter. I didn't know how NOT to fight with her. Even if I tried not to, when I didn't respond to something, or spoke in the wrong way. Fight. Physical, emotional.
I couldn't do that to her, I could do that to our family.
I am convinced if I lived there, she would have died much sooner than she did.

I cant say I wasn't bitter about living out of home at such a young age. In the middle of the night, I'd wake up not knowing where I was. I hated that. I still hate that if it happens to this day.

My mothers cancer progressed, and stopped, progressed and stopped.
The second the chemo left her body, there it was.. Cells building, dividing. Trying to conquer her. Tell her that her time on this earth was over.
Fuck that.

I know that a week after my mum was diagnosed, she could have rolled over taken some sleeping pills and died. The reason she didn't was simply. Us.
We weren't ready to be without a mother, my father wasn't ready to be single for the first time in more than 25 years. She however knew the reality of life and death.
Every needle stick, every medication, every hospital stay. Was in no way to prolong her life, it was to prolong OUR life with HER.

In late august 2006 I was meant to have an operation.
To cut a long story short, the operation was canceled.
Devastation ensued, as we knew my mum wouldn't be around when I had the operation.
She would never get to see my perfect new bite, or my teeth without braces again.
The day I found out, I left work in tears. I crawled into bed with my mum and cried. She cried too. "I'm sorry, im so so so sorry" she was lucid this day. Her mind was leaving her.. I knew something was up.
Within two days, she was in a medically induced coma in a terrible palliative care unit at a dirty old hospital. People came in to say there goodbyes. I remember the terrible perky and annoying nurse annoying all the terminal patients. If I was them, I would have killed her.. What would they have had to lose. (that may sound worse than it is, but my mum was a nurse)
I remember them trying to comfort me.. The words I know how ya feel are never any good. No matter how many dying patients they have seen. They are not my mother, I am not there daughter and they don't know exactly how i feel.

I sat by her bedside, and I prayed.. I prayed so hard. Just come back mum.. comeback. your not done yet. I know your not.

Two days later she was awake. Maybe it was a miracle, maybe it was the huge amount of steroids they pumped into her brain. We'll never know.

Within a couple of weeks, the treatment was coming to an end.
They had done all they could.
Mostly, when mum wasn't up smoking.. or eating.. man she ate SO much.. It was the steroids... but I loved calling her up and asking her if she'd have lunch.. then mentioning I might stop for fish and chips.. one day she said to me "oh sue came round and we had rolls for lunch.. but I could do with a piece of fish.. oh and some chips and a Dim Sim or two"

She slept alot, that was what the cancer did to her. A lot of the time she was alone.
Cancer is expensive.. my dad HAD to work to pay the Mortgage and the bills.
Most nights towards the end, when I had got over my phobia about looking her in the eyes. I would go over. Sometimes I'd crawl into bed beside her... Sometimes I'd sneak into her room and put my face close to hers to see if she was still breathing.

In October my mother wanted to go and visit her sister in another state for one last time. We were crazy to let a terminal patient get on a plane and fly alone to another state. But it was what she wanted.
While she was there, she decided that pruning a bush.. near a pond would be a great idea. She say's she fell, doctors said she had a stroke.
They found her in the bottom of an empty dam. Her ankle was badly twisted.
The doctors did scans and were so surprised she was still alive. They didn't know my mum. For a while, she refused to come home. But we begged and pleaded. She agreed.
My dad traveled over to get her, she was again in an abusive and irrational state.
If she had the strength on any given day, she would have kicked the crap outta my dad for things that happened 10 years ago. I don't know if it was the cancer, or she simply needed to get it out of her.

After the stroke she wasn't the same, she lost control of her bowels a lot of the time. She was sick, but she knew what was going on.. fuck she hated it.
We had palliative care organized to come in at home, but everything they made an appointment.. she would "be asleep" or not answer the door.

None of us wanted her to die at home, I don't think even she did. But she refused for the longest time to go into palliative care.
In the last week of November, with her time drawing near. She agreed.
She got there, 3 hours late on the 30th of November 2006.
I was at work as per normal, this may sound weird. But this is what my mum wanted, for us to go about her lives. She was selfless my mother. Nothing mattered much besides us kids. I saw her briefly on Thursday and Friday as she was soo drugged and so tired.
On Saturday I was in early in the morning.
I helped her out of bed.We went and sat outside and had out last cigarette together. Yes I know some people will whack me for having a cigarette with my dying mother, but whatever. We talked about my dog, Max.. Who she loved with all her heart. He was wandering around the house aimlessly without her. Max was one of her greatest comforts during her illness. Almost never left her side.
When we finished our cigarettes, my mum.. weary.. asked me to get the ashtray.
I put it beside her feet. During the past year, I had been working with young children and was trained to say "taaaa" when something was taken that needed to be returned. A phone, a block, a toy of another children.
I said "taaaa" to my mother.
"Don't fucking taaa me, I'm young god damn mother.. I can do it myself"
She dropped the still lit cigarette in the ashtray.
I put it out.

By this time, my dad had arrived.. Mum was getting back into bed and was in all sorts of pain. She was screaming. My mum didn't scream.. they gave her medication.. she vomited them back up. I knew.. she wouldn't want me to see her like that.. I briefly kissed her goodbye. Said I love you, and left.

My dad called me later that night to say she wasn't in a good way.. she'd slept.. and he sat with her for awhile.

The next morning at about 7:30 am I got a call.. "shes gone, her brain has stopped functioning" I didn't believe it, quickly I dressed.. I ran down to the hospital. There she was laying there, eyes closed.. not responsive.
For hours I sat with her, sang to her.. held her hands.. begged her to please come back. Its almost sad to think that singing out favourite song was going to bring her back. That night when I left. I knew it would be the last time I saw her alive.

I awoke suddenly at 6:45am, I layed there until 30 minutes later when my phone rang.
My dad insisted that I needed to go to the hospital to see her. Until that point, I didn't want to. I didn't want to remember her like that.
You have too. I struggled but knew he was right. On the way to the hospital we made a few calls, first to my mums sister. The only words we had were "shes gone" my aunt is not an emotional person.. the only words she could mutter was no.. okay.. I gotta go.. i just I gotta go.. And she hung up.

When we entered the room, we noticed immediately that all her things had been packed up and put to one side.
I clung to her, her body still warm. We all stayed there.. I don't know how long.. and hour.. maybe more. Only one of her friends wanted to come in and say goodbye.
The rest had all said their peice. I know my mum was fine with that.
When it came time to leave.. I asked for a minute alone with her.
Clinging to her, I let out a cry.. unlike anything I have ever felt or experienced before.
I will make you proud mum, I promise you.. above all else. I will make you proud.

My mum had half planned her own funeral, she left two options for just about EVERYTHING. Later that day, I know.. Same day.. we walked into the funeral home to discuss the service. It was brief.. I can't remember the details. They don't matter.
A lovely lady came to our house the next day to talk about mum,and to write up a speech. Two of mums friends would speak. She did not wish for us to speak.

But myself and my brothers girlfriend read her favourite poem


CLANCY OF THE OVERFLOW - A.B. "Banjo" Paterson

I had written him a letter which I had, for want of better
Knowledge, sent to where I met him down the Lachlan, years ago,
He was shearing when I knew him, so I sent the letter to him,
Just "on spec", addressed as follows: "Clancy, of The Overflow".


And an answer came directed in a writing unexpected,
(And I think the same was written in a thumbnail dipped in tar)
'Twas his shearing mate who wrote it, and verbatim I will quote it:
"Clancy's gone to Queensland droving, and we don't know where he are."


In my wild erratic fancy visions come to me of Clancy
Gone a-droving "down the Cooper" where the western drovers go;
As the stock are slowly stringing, Clancy rides behind them singing,
For the drover's life has pleasures that the townsfolk never know.


And the bush hath friends to meet him, and their kindly voices greet him
In the murmur of the breezes and the river on its bars,
And he sees the vision splendid of the sunlit plains extended,
And at night the wondrous glory of the everlasting stars.


I am sitting in my dingy little office, where a stingy
Ray of sunlight struggles feebly down between the houses tall,
And the foetid air and gritty of the dusty, dirty city
Through the open window floating, spreads its foulness over all.


And in place of lowing cattle, I can hear the fiendish rattle
Of the tramways and the buses making hurry down the street,
And the language uninviting of the gutter children fighting,
Comes fitfully and faintly through the ceaseless tramp of feet.


And the hurrying people daunt me, and their pallid faces haunt me
As they shoulder one another in their rush and nervous haste,
With their eager eyes and greedy, and their stunted forms and weedy,
For townsfolk have no time to grow, they have no time to waste.


And I somehow fancy that I'd like to change with Clancy,
Like to take a turn at droving where the seasons come and go,
While he faced the round eternal of the cashbook and the journal -
But I doubt he'd suit the office, Clancy, of "The Overflow".

My mum never expected a huge turn out, the chapel was full.
I was surrounded by family and friends. But the only people visible in that room, were me.. my brothers and my father.

I was carried out of the funeral as I could no longer walk.
I had slept less than an hour the night before and was notably a mess.
We proceeded to the cometary, when we got there. One of my mums favourite irish songs was played. As her body was lowered down, the lyrics of "I hope you dance " played in the background. It was fitting, that's all she ever wanted for me too do.
My older brother, Matthew.. Who I had not seen shed a tear.. it was just his nature.. as he walked out of the room.. where we had said goodbye to my aunt, grandmother and mother all in the same year. He let out one cry, and buried his face into my dads shoulders. That was the last time I've ever seen him cry.

After the short wake at the cemetery, we headed back to our house.. People brought food and drinks. They talked.. played my mums music.

After about 5 minutes, I crawled into my parents bed. I lay down on the very spot only a little over a week ago my mum had lay. The place where she spent so many of her last hours.The place we cried together.. me deep in her arms just as if I was in her womb. Then, for the first time.. In such a long time. I had a solid few hours of sleep. I woke sleepy, a few hours later. Just as everyone was leaving.

It was that moment, when the last of the visitors had left the house.
That we began our new journey.
I began my life, as a motherless daughter.
With one soul ambition, hope, dream, goal... aspiration.. whatever you want to call it.

Was to make her. So very proud of me.

Cancer Hell

I don't know why I had the sudden urge to write about this.
Probably because I'm reading my sisters keepers, the book explores the story through different characters eyes.
This is my perspective:


November 1996. I woke in the middle of the night to hear the shower in my parents bathroom going, I could hear my mum short of crying out in pain. A dull cry nothing loud. She wasn't trying to be loud. My mother could handle pain, she had 3 natural child births, my brother came out almost sideways with no stomach wall. Yeah ouch.
I was 8, grade 2. Old enough to know I'd never heard my mother scream like that, but young enough to have no idea why.
What followed was a series of tests ordered by a GP. One afternoon my mum picked me up from school, she informed me that we were going to the doctor so she could have an ultrasound. Again the young part of me thought, ULTRASOUND= Baby.
We made our way to a small private hospital, I was aloud in with mum. I remember sitting there and holding her hand. She squeezed so tight, I thought my hand was going to fall off. I stared at the screen magically hoping for that little sibling I had always wanted to pop up on the screen.
What they found was a tumor.
The medical system in Australia in my opinion is good. Within a few days , my mums tumor had been biopsied. On the way home from school my mother explained that the tumor, which was attached to her right kidney was indeed cancer and had to be removed.
I knew what cancer was, my cousin had cancer but was in remission at that time.
Mum explained to me that although it was major surgery, she would be layed up for a while but would be fine.
Then came what i then thought was terrible news.
I had to move schools. We had moved a few years before that, and had a school about a 1 minute walk from our home. We continued at the old school because my brother was older and graduating he didn't want to leave. Every morning, mostly after working a night shift my mum would drive us to school. But she couldn't drive me anymore, my brother was only a few weeks out from finishing. A family friend would drive him until he finished, but it was in my best interests to leave school a few weeks early to adjust to my new school.
The day of mums surgery was the same day I finished up at my old school. I remember the sadness leaving that day. My dad bribed me not to cry with a lollipop.
We headed off to the hospital.
My mums kidney removal was before the time of key whole surgery, she had a scar from the top of her ribs in her back, all the way down her stomach curved in a c shape.
When we arrived she was hooked up to monitors, drugged to the eye balls.
My brother and I as children stupidly started fighting about something, and with every ounce of her strength she yelled "get them out, get them the fuck out of here"
Later my dad explained it was just the drugs... I never believed that too be so.
I was sent to live with my aunt and uncle in the country for a few weeks as my mum recovered. I was a handful.. I really was... If she needed radiation or chemo it may have been longer. Thankfully she didn't.
The story as it has seemed like such a simple ending.
My mum was technically in remission for kidney cancer, and a few months on. Life went back to normal.

October 1999.
I was sitting in my room one evening listening to music. There was a knock on the door, in enters my mum. We had just returned from a girls trip to the gold coast. My dad had recently been retrenched and gotten a large payout. On that trip, anything I asked for I got... I mean anything. Each morning we would get up, go out for breakfast, go shopping. Just spend the day.. the two of us. Our relationship hadn't hit the rough patch yet... My parents weren't the richest of people, but they provided for us well. Still my mother was extremely extravagant on that trip. I thought it was because I was 12 and she was still dressing me?
I was wrong.
Mum sat down lifted her shirt and took my hand. She placed it firmly against the skin of her breast just under her arm.
"can you feel that" she asked.
I nodded.
" Caragh I have breast cancer"
I cant remember what I said, or thought or felt at the moment.
Something along the lines of..
Cancer? Seriously? Again?
Well you can beat this I said to her.
She looked at me, her eyes pained. And undoubtedly shook her head.
But just a little.
"how long have you known?"
A little while she replied.

Suddenly that whole trip made sense.
My mum was enjoying every moment with me on that trip because she thought it would be her last.
The next few weeks are a blur. Mum was booked into surgery, and a few days before we went away on our family Christmas trip. Everything was normal.
When I turned 12, I was promised a dog. We didn't have any fences but they had recently been installed. 3 days before mums surgery, I got Max.
Maybe they were trying to distract me. I remember my mum being distraught about me looking after the puppy properly, and shutting the bathroom door so he didn't drown in the toilet. Not her up coming surgery.

My mum had the surgery, a lumpectomy. Two lumps were removed. As well as most of the lymph nodes under her armpit. Out of the ones taken, only a few tested positive for the cancer. We all went to her meeting with the oncologist as a follow up, and she insisted that as a family we make the decision about her course of treatment.
I thought this was stupid, her body.. her choice.
Mum opted for the less invasive radiation treatment.
I remember asking her questions about it. Why it took so long, why her skin was burnt.. For the most part, mum did extremely well through the treatment.
She was tired... and like i said, so burnt. But she did well.

At the end of the treatment she was set on her way. Follow ups every year.

September 2005.
I was sitting in my room gluing Popsicle sticks together. I was bored. I had just had a fight with my girlfriend. I was 18, irritable and moody. My grandmother and aunt were both terminally ill. I heard mum scream from the laundry. Now my mum could handle major surgeries, child birth, radiation.. you name it. She could do it.. But if she stubbed her toe she would scream the house down.
I ran to the laundry and stood by the open door, she was standing but her body was shaking, jerking around.. before I knew it she fell onto the sink, then too the washing machine and then cold onto the tiled floor.
I screamed. She was completely unresponsive her pupils dilated. She had blood pouring from her mouth. I screamed for my dad who was on the phone with a telemarketer of all people. I knelt beside her, and screamed for someone to call an ambulance. By this stage my dad was trying to get the telemarketer to hang up and close of the call, so he could dial out. The bastard wouldn't hang up.
One of my brothers called an ambulance. Now all of us were completely hysterical. Mum was still un responsive but breathing.
Within minutes although it seemed like hours, the ambulance arrived. they gave mum some oxygen and she came around. She didn't really know where she was for a moment. We moved her out to a chair in the kitchen.. they asked her standard questions, her name... ect.. but when it came to the date she got the year wrong. FUCK.
A stroke? A stroke with a seizure?
My mum was very strong minded. She thought she was fine, she kept insisting the paramedics fuck off and let her have a cigarette.
She also found it quite insulting they were babying her.
Finally, I convinced mum to go to the hospital. My dad and I followed the ambulance and speculated what could be wrong. Mum was admitted straight in, and was acting strangely.. Almost like a child. "I don't want to stay here, I want to go home"
Please let me go home.. begging almost.
Hooked up to monitors the doctors explained that they wanted to run some tests but couldn't do so until the morning. Mum was adamant that she would not stay.. several doctors, nurses & my dad all couldn't convince her.
After stepping outside from a cigarette.
I took my mum by the hand and said "listen, I know you don't want to stay here. But I saw you have a seizure. You are not okay, you need some tests, and then tomorrow you can go home" She looked at me with puppy dog eyes. And reluctantly agreed.
I didn't sleep that night, not a wink. I awoke in the morning, to find my house almost empty. I trailed into the hospital, as I walked towards the bed where my mum was laying.. I saw some doctors eye me off with a look. That look.
My mum was sitting on the bed reading a magazine. "So I said, whats the news"
Mum looked at me with those same puppy dog eyes.
"Its not good" My eyes started to well.. They found some tumors in my brain, they think that's what caused the seizure and headaches she had.. By this time, my dad had shown up. I left my parents alone to deal with the news. I heard my dad cry. No no no no no.
I ran outside to get some air, and greet my brother and his girlfriend.
What happened next was swift, mum was to be transferred to another hospital. A better & bigger one for a biopsy. She spent the night there, but then came home Sunday morning.
When mum walked in the door, I was devastated. Her newly styled hair had been reduced to a raving mess. They had saved it off in places to attach disks where they would drill into her brain and get samples of the tumor.
Its just hair she said, just hair.
The next day was the biopsy, it was late afternoon but my mum wanted us to go about life as normal. I sat around the house all day, in the evening we got the call. The surgery had gone fine, but the results were not good.
Considering she'd just had brain surgery my mum was in a great spirits. The only thing that pissed her off was having to use a bed pan.
She was trying to get up out of bed and the nurse said to her quite bluntly "Alana you can't get out of bed, you have just had brain surgery."
She responded well hand me the bed pan and fuck off so I can pee in piece.
I remember holding that bed pan for her, and thinking.. Could it get any worse than this? yes.
By Tuesday morning, the results were in.
13 metastasized tumors in her brain. From her breast Cancer.
For the first few weeks everything seemed very calm. My mum was instantly at piece with knowing her cancer was now terminal. After all, she accepted this fate years ago.

I however.. Was not.

I wanted to continue more, but I'm exhausted.. And I've been writing for almost an hour.

XX

Interesting Day..

Today wasn't anywhere near as bad as I thought it would be...
I dunno its my third mothers day without my mum here with me on earth.
I woke up and didn't feel such a heavyness on my heart.
I went and brought some flowers....
Got a large coffee and I was on my way.
My mother's resting place is around 2 hours away from my house, its up in the "country" where my aunty and uncle live.
Its the place that my mum would have retired too and in a way I guess she is.
I was really frustrated with some of the sunday drivers out there, there was a women who was quite old.. going 40 KM's an hour in a 100 KM zone.
Very frustrating and it put me quite behind.. not that I was in a rush.

When I got the cemetary I was hit with a small wave of sadness.
I trecked down to my mums grave..
Usally when I get there, I instantly want to say hello.. then goodbye and leave.
But this time, I sat.. for atleast 20 minutes I sat and thought of my mum.


Afer that I went and had some lunch, which took a REALLY long time.
Then I was on my way back home, and on the way I took some photos which I will now share.
One of these is obviously very personal.








There is one pick of my mum's grave obviously, one of the cemetary, a few of the beautiful Australian bush.
And one very sad picture of the damaged tree's from the bushfires that hit feb.

I hope everyone's had a good day.

XXX
Caragh

Happy Mothers Day

Dear Mum,

I can't believe its been 523 days since you left this world.
I remember it like it was only yesterday, as I awoke suddenly as you took your last breaths.
I remember the instant devestatation that fell over me, the thought that I would never hear your voice, or feel your arms around me again.
Your soul had already left us, but as I sat beside you.. singing some of our songs.
I hoped that if I squeezed your hand tight enough, or begged any harder you would come back to me.
But it wasn't too be.
There are no words for how much I love you.
There will never be anything that can describe how much I miss you.
How at times I am so angry, so sad, cynical, bitter and depressed that you had to leave when you did.
At 49 years of age, you did not deserve to die.
But no one ever deserves to die.

You were the best mum anyone could have ever asked for.
I didn't always know that.. But I know that now and thats what's important.
Some days I wake up and still don't believe that you are gone.
I know that might sound stupid but its the truth.. sometimes I know I can feel you with me... When I need you the most. But so much of the time I feel alone.
I know that a peice of me will always be missing without you here.
But as you said, life must go on and we must learn how to be happy again.
I don't always follow those words of advice, but I ALWAYS try to.

I will always do my best to honor your memory..
To remember your face, your voice, the way you smelt and the way you would hold me when I was upset.

You are, and always will be the most important person in my life.
Who guided and will continue to guide me down this tricky road called life.

I miss you.
I love you now, and always.

Your daughter,

Caragh

xxx

One of our many songs-

Joan Baez- Forever Young

May God bless and keep you always.
May your wishes all come true.
May you always do for others
And let others do for you.

May you build a ladder to the stars
And climb on every rung
And may you stay
Forever young.

May you grow up to be rightous.
May you grow up to be true.
May you always know the truth
And see the light surrounding you.

May you always be courageous,
Stand upright, and be strong
And may you stay
Forever young.

Forever young.
Forever young.
May you stay
Forever young.

May your hands always be busy.
May your feet always be swift.
May you have a strong foundation
When the winter changes shift.

May your heart always be joyful.
May your song always be sung
And may you stay
Forever young.

Forever young.
Forever young.
May you stay
Forever young.

I was going to nap.. however

I need to get this off my chest.

My dad.

I love my dad, we have always been close.
Even thought I KNOW I spent more time with my mother as a child, I can more so remember the time I spent with my dad. I remember him waking me each morning when it was still dark out, changing my nappy,dressing me and giving me a large bottle full of warm milk. I know this sounds unbelieveable, especially since I would have been under two. But I remember this. I remember him driving me to my Nana's house each morning, taking me in as I was half asleep and laying me into my crib that I had there.

As I grew, we did more and more things togerther. Not always huge things, but still.
He would take me too the football from the time i was about 7 years old.
This continued right up until this time last year.

Enter- The girlfriend J.

Dad met J when he went SPEED DATING.
When dad told me he wanted to date, I thought the idea was a joke.
But he'd signed up when he was drunk, paid for it. So he was going..
This was about 16 months after my mum had died, I thought it was too soon but who was I too judge.

He had a few nice little dates, 7/10 women wanted to see him again.
Thats a pretty great number for speed dating.

He went out on a date with J straight away, they apparently hit it off and were talking for hours. I was sceptical.
He went on a few more dates, and then she invited him over to her home for dinner.
After only knowing him a few short weeks and only having met him a few times.
Weird.
J has a 7 year old daughter. I wouldn't expose my child to a relationship that I didnt know was going anywhere so quickly. I thought this was weird.

Eventually dad started seeing her more and more often..
Weekends that were once reserved for me.
Now went to her.
I delt...

One time he promised to take me somewhere, and instead he took her.
I was devestated. He claimed I wasn't supporting his attemps to be happy.
Maybe I wasn't completly. But I DID and DO want him to be happy.

I know people are reading this and thinking, get over it.
Don't be jealous, let your dad be happy.
Parent enter into new relationships all the time, its not a big deal.

Thats how alot of people took this situation.
Divorce is terrible, its hard and upseting for parents and children alike.
But death is different.

I am torn between wanting my dad to find happiness, and fufulling my obligations to my mother who is no longer with us.
At first I was upset, it was too soon.

After I met her, things changed completely.
When I look into the mirror, I am torn. I have my mothers eyes, amoungts many other things that I inherited from her.

When she died she wrote me a letter, it was brief. It basically said to look after myself, but she knew i'd be fine. Watch out for my brothers, and for my dad.
That he was a good man, and that he would find someone.
And that I'd know if she was a good person.

When I met J, she wasn't overly friendly.
She didn't make much of an effort to talk to me, or get to know my other family members who were there.
I survived by going off with her daughter, C and playing video games.

She even went so far as too call my Dad, and my uncle..
Knobs.

Infont of everyone who was there, even her daughter.

Worse still was the fact, that she was bossy... needed to be the centre of attention, I could go on. But I don't want it to seem like im attacking someone I don't even know very well.
But the thing that got me most was that my dad.. Treated her like a princess.
Catering to her every whim.
This was hard to watch, as my parents relationship was far from perfect, but they stayed togerther for almost 30 years. That was there choice, at times I didn't support it, begged that they would end it. But in the end they loved each other.
Who was I too judge.

Over the next few months, they spent more and more time togerther.
Which equalled less time for me and my dad, he became disintrested in us.
And would come home crabby, because he wanted to be with her.
Wanted to be needed by her. It drove, no wait.. it drives me nuts.

During christmas I assumed dad would spend it with us. I was wrong. He attended HER family function. I atteneded my brothers girlfriends family..
It was my first christmas without either of my parents.
It sucked ass.

Dad and I became less like best friends and more like strangers.
I was angry at him for not wanting to spend time with me, he was angry because I wasn't supporting him.
It all blew up into a huge fight, which left me screaming at him so loud I actually thought I broke the speaker on my phone.
He didn't speak to me for a few days.. I persisted, telling him I was his daughter and there was nothing he could do that would change that.

A few days later I got a text message from him saying

"I love you very much, but you drive me nuts like your mum"

Fight was over.

Things have been okay ever since, I still don't see him much.
He is with J & C most of the time on the other side of town.
She is also going through a depression and trying to get herself off her current dose of meds, one that is way to high and fucking her up completely.

I have seen her a few more times, not much recently.
I haven't warmed to her that much, she is kind to me... But it feels fake.
It feels forced..
Like she would care for him more if he didn't have all the baggage.
Dispite the fact that she has her own.

I was thrillllllllllled this week when dad said he had tickets to the football and he wanted me to go with him.
He suggested we meet for lunch before hand, up until last night i was really excited.
He txt me saying he was definatly coming.

This morning he cancelled lunch, he's still meeting me there in about two hours.
Part of me wanted to jump up and down, part of me wanted to scream or cry.
It wouldn't make any difference.

I can't make him want to spend time with me.
I can't make him fall out of love with her....
As much as it pains me to say, thats what this is.
People do stupid things when they are in love.

But I do want my dad back, before its too late.
Before the bond we had, that was unbreakable finally tears.
I lost my mum, I did. I'm without her and it hurts me every single day.
I can't live without my dad too

Boobs

I have a serious LOVE/HATE relationship with my boobs.
Love that there still kinda perky, despite being huge... Hate that I know there eventually gonna be saggy enough to tuck into my socks.
My first bra was a 12C, unfortunately I wasn’t 16.. I had pretty much only just turned 11.
Fast forward 12 years later, my bust size has increased.
Depending on the bra the biggest size I’m going up to is a 16E.
I kinda look at my boobs sometimes and think, OH no there not that big. Then I realize that wait a second my bra fits on my head comfortably as a hat.

I realised recently that between all the weight I’ve put on and the fact that I have naturally large boobs.. I can barely see my toes when I look down.
I don’t like to talk about the fact that my mother died from Breast Cancer.
She was young when she was diagnosed, only 41 and people will probably see this and say no no 25 is a young age to get breast cancer but what a lot of people don’t understand is that breast cancer is much more common in women over 55 than it is with anyone else.

My mother did not make the most informed decisions when dealing with her Breast Cancer. She had a two lumps removed, and most of the lymp nodes under her air.
Only 2 of which tested positive for the cancer. She then made the decision to have radiation as her only form of after care treatment.
These two decisions are ones that almost without a doubt the ones that cost her, her life.
After the surgery and radiation my mother made what was said to be a full recoverey.
She had follow up appointments and mammograms every year as she was meant to.

In August of 2005 mum was given the 5 year all clear. Making it to this point after breast cancer is one of the mile stones in order for the disease to be unlikely to return. 1 month later she suffered a seizure which revealed she had 11 metastatic tumours in her brain.

She was given between 1 month and 1 year to live. Relative to treatment.
She took as much radiation, chemo and medication as they would give her. But ultimately she lost her fight on December 3rd 2006 which she slipped into a coma and then on December 4th she took her last breath in this world.
Might I add that my mother.. my strong and determined mother went shopping for a new pair of shoes just 3 days before she died. This was the day she allowed herself to go into palliative care, such a rebel that she was 4 hours late to be booked in because she insisted her and my brother go shopping and have some lunch.
I get my feisty side from her.

Because I have a history of more than 7-8 different cancers through-out my family I have been offered the choice of genetic counselling.
In particular I am interested in screening for the breast cancer gene. I am torn between my love for my boobs, and the knowledge that if I have this gene I will most likely make the decision to remove my breasts in order to prevent myself from getting the cancer.
More and more women are being faced with this decision.
I know I’m young. I know that even if I test positive for the gene that I may NOT get the cancer.
But my mother died at 49 years of age. I wouldn’t want this to be my fate. I made the decision years ago when she was first re-diagnosed. I promised that if I ever got diagnosed I would have a mastectomy regardless of how far along the cancer had progressed.
I really am torn between even getting the tests done and just putting myself in god’s hands.
My boobs are a part of me, they obviously don’t define me but they are a huge part of who I am. They define my body basically because I’m a fat chick, that’s the one bonus I get.
BOOBS.
I don’t know what I was doing really with posting this, but I do monthly or sometimes weekly breast checks and I was thinking about it while doing mine last night.
So can I just ask, to anyone who has read this...
What would you do?
Have you or would you screen for the disease, and if you were diagnosed would you consider an elective mastectomy?
Xx Caragh

Easter Sunday

I am feeling alot better today.
Seriously, one day at a time is all it takes.
I didn't go out last night, infact I downloaded and enjoyed watching Milk.

Amazing movie, seriously I highly recommend it to everyone..
It actually made me very proud to be same sex attracted and very grateful that people across the world, fought to bring hope to future generations like me, and those who will come after me. But its more about civil rights, the rights of every human being who walks this earth.
Anyway, watch it.. its amazing.

However.. I kinda sorta maybe have downloaded a few too many tv shows/ that one movie this month.We have super fast cable internet (super fast by australian standards, our cable coverage is nothing compared to that of the US, or euorpe but it will be thanks to the 1 trillion million billion dollar plan layed out by the government last week, but anyways)

Long story short, my brother went away yesterday to visit with his fiance's family, and its going to come back to super capped (i'm talking 56k old school, terribly slow internet) and he's going to kill me because its a public holiday and he can't call and beg them to extend our download limit.
I'm REALLY hoping that he doesn't yell at me too much, violence is not the answer Matthew.. Yeh my brother plays WOW he is going to be VERY upset with me.

I took myself out for breakfast/brunch/lunch but forgot that nothing is open today because the government has ruled that they aren't aloud to be..
So pretty much nothing was open, but I found a cafe' and had something to eat and coffee. Read my Cosmo.. I swear i'm not girly, but trashy mag's are my weakness.

Anyway I don't have much planned for the rest of the day.

Lexapro side effects= None. Zero. Zip. For 5 days in thats pretty damn good, I have slept alot though.

I really feel like going to visit mums grave soon, mothers day is coming up.. I went last year but dad and I were fishing up there. I don't think he'd go up with me this year. I could go now If I think about it, its a beautiful day.
hmmm hard

I hope everyone has had a nice easter.

Thinking

I thought I was doing okay.. I really did.
I look fine, I look happy, right?
Wrong.. I'd just walked into the kitchen after eating dinner.
My SIL goes to me "are you okay?"
I rub my eyes and think too myself first.
"yeah im fine, just tired"
She pauses, half smiles and then goes
" are you sure? " she says
"yeah im fine, why?"
" you look so sad?"

I walked away at that point and back into my room.
I know sometimes you've gotta go down before you come up.

I wish my life was different, I know I spend all this time wishing, thinking, praying.
That i'll wake up and this WONT be my life.
I guess I just have to live with WHAT IS.
At the moment, I'm a mess..
Its only April but for some reason I'm thinking about Mothers day already.
Mothers day, its a dreaded day for me..
I haven't yet had one where I was able to remember my mum properly, and without feeling such over whelming grief.
Mothers day is such an important time for most people, its all they talk about in the week leading up....
My friend Mat and I both lost our mothers to breast cancer in our teenage years.
Its a shitty shitty week for both of us, now we are working in the same department.. Side by side.
I remember last year he was extra sad, his mother died 9 years ago so its less fresh.. but still there of course, Its always there.
He had just had his son, and he couldn't work out how to feel.. happy for his partner and her experience but sad for himself.

I dunno.. I dunno when im coming out of this funk..
I know this is no where near the worst that i've ever felt.
I will never get there again..

By now i've probably lost all the poor people reading this, and you probably want me to be happy with what I have.. but right now.
I guess as SIL just said.

"You look sad"

I am sad..
but shhh stop reminding me

Dear mum

Sometimes I think that I can see you.
When I close my eyes.. I know that i'd give anything just to feel your arms around me.
To remember what your perfume spelt like.
Remember the way you used to say all of our names with such force.
I wish you could give me advice right now.
With everything..
Every little thing I seem to touch turns so much to shit and I just need you here.
But you can't be. Your place is in your heaven.
One day i'll be able to se you again.
I wish you could pull Dad into line.
To let him know that what hes doing is wrong.. but he's gotta make his own mistakes.
I've got to make my own mistakes.
But its hard..
I hate that you cant pull me into line.. tell me to buck up, grow up, move on.
I cant seem to do any of those things.

Your words are all I need right now.
But I have nothing.
I feel so lost with you

Sharing some memories

So I thought i'd share a few memories with everyone who is reading this(oh lets be honest.. no ones reading this)



1987:
Its a girl.. after a short labour.. which mum was told would take hours here I was..
The third child and only daughter to Ron & Alana




Me, my dad and my big brother.





Bath time..







Me and my nanna.
She passed away in 1997..
loved her very very much



Nap time..


I was always a very well behaved child..





I always liked cuddles though..


I was always quite the artist




me and mum on my third birthday.
Notice the heaps cool princess cake she made me..
it was the best!!!






We were the coolest kids on the block

So there you have it.. if your still reading this....
Well done, google totally kicked my butt while i was trying to post this.
I first tried to link in from photobucket.
HUGE failure..
Then google blocked my IP.. I know right like im some hacker..
So i'm using a proxy to get around that.

anyway.. i hope everyone is having a great weekend.
Oh and look what happened to me this morning!!!




I'm glad I was half asleep otherwise I would have been more angry.

Oh crap I think google is after me because everything has suddenly slowed..
THERE ON TO ME!!!!

If anyone has any questions, feel free to leave a comment and i'll answer :)

Buses and Trains

Hey Mom
Why didn't you tell me
Why didn't you teach me a thing or two
You just let me go
Out into the World
You never thought to share what you knew


So I walked under a bus
I got hit by a train
Keep falling in love
Which is kinda the same
I've sunk out at sea
Crashed my car, gone insane
And it felt so good
I want to do it again



Hey Mom
Why didn't you warn me
Coz about boys is something i should have known
They're like chocolate cake
Like cigarettes
I know they're bad for me
But I just can't leave 'em alone


I wanna do it again
Oh, felt so good

Hey Mom
Since we're talking
What was it like when you were young
Has the world changed
Or is it still the same
A man can kill and still be the sweetest fun



So I walked under a bus
I got hit by a train
Keep falling in love
Which is kinda the same
I've sunk out at sea
Crashed my car, gone insane
And it felt so good
I want to do it again