Sian - 14 years old

I still remember the day I found out the news. I came home from school and the house was eerily quiet, so I came into the front room and asked my auntie what was wrong with my mum as I knew we were getting the results back that day.

My mum got diagnosed with stomach cancer in January of this year, and when she was finally diagnosed and I then understood all her suffering, I only got around 5 more weeks with her until she passed away the following February.

For ages before she was diagnosed, she complained of aggressive stomach pain and burning sensations, she could only eat half her meals and threw up the little amounts she could manage to eat. She lost a lot of weight in a very small time.

On the night she got taken into hospital I was so frightened, so I couldn't even understand in the slightest how she must have felt. She didn't want an ambulance rung for her initially, but it was decided enough was enough and she was taken away.

Me, my nana, my auntie and my sister visited her every night in the hospital. She hated it. I hated it. We all hated it. My mum never got enough sleep because her ward was noisy and her bed was right beside the nurses station, so all she could hear was talking and the shouting of patients and busy nurses walking about in the middle of the night. It must have felt like torture.

Whilst my mum was in the hospital she got litres and litres of fluid drained out of her stomach, this was both before and after she was diagnosed.

I still remember the day I found out the news. I came home from school and the house was eerily quiet, so I came into the front room and asked my auntie what was wrong with my mum as I knew we were getting the results back that day. She told me she'd tell me when my sister got home as she wanted to tell us both together.

I was so anxious and on edge until my sister came home and when she did and we were told, all I remember doing was crying and crying and crying. I was going to lose my mum. I was overwhelmed by so many feelings. Anger, sadness, helplessness, even guilt. Nothing would ever be the same again. Nothing.

The night I went to visit my mum when we'd found out the news, I just sat beside her on the bed and held her hand and cried and cried and cried until I couldn't breathe. I honestly couldn't believe I was going to lose her. She was never going to see me go to college, she ease never going to see my get married, she was never going to see my kids or become a grandmother herself. I didn't know how I would ever cope. As far as I was concerned, I couldn't live without my mum, and I, more than anything then, wanted to die as well.

My mum, afterwards was moved to a hospice, which I admit was so much nicer than the hospital and far far more homely. My mum got a better nights sleep there too, but she still couldn't keep any food down for longer than a few hours at a time.

My mum got thinner and thinner and thinner, nearly unrecognisable. I hated seeing her like that. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair one bit, not one bit.

In the end, instead of feeling constantly sickly and waiting for herself to throw up, she just used the long end of a spoon and stuck it down her throat to get the sick up there and then. It was so utterly hard to watch but if it made her feel better, even for a short time, that's what mattered.

It was early one morning and we got a call from the hospice, saying to come up immediately because mum was very sick. We all rushed up and she looked even sicker and even weaker than usual. My mum really did not have long left. I knew that, we all knew that, I just didn't want to believe it. I talked to her along with my sister for a while just spending some mother and daughter time together.

My birthday, on the 1st of February, really didn't seem like my birthday at all. There were more things to worry about than my birthday at that point.

My mum passed away not long after my birthday, very early in the morning. I remember being woken up by the sounds of voices in the front room. Lying in my bed then, I knew. I didn't even need to go into the front room for confirmation. I just knew.

I did go into the front room though, and I did indeed get my confirmation. I didn't cry, I just sat there staring into space. She was gone.

In fact, when I first received the news I was quite relieved, not relieved that she was dead, but that she was at peace and didn't have to suffer any longer.

I write this in the month of June, and it has been about 5 months since my mum passed away. It hasn't been easy. I've struggled a lot. A lot of the time things get on top of me and I'm upset a lot, but that is all part of the grieving process. Everyone grieves different remember, there is no right or wrong way.

There are things that make it easier. My family make it easier, my extremely supportive friends make it easier. Time doesn't heal. That's what I believe anyway. You never heal, you never just get over it, you just LEARN to live with it. And that's what I'm in the process of doing right now. Learning to live with it. What else can I do?

You aren't alone. There thousands of people going through what you are right now, and there are people that love you, and you aren't on your own, even if you feel like it.

Rest in peace mum, such an amazing, strong and beautiful woman. Didn't deserve to be taken so soon. I love you so so much.

 

Page updated 23 June 2014