Two Weeks to Live

Continuing on from my last post, 'Mum has Cancer', here's the next excerpt from my diary...

"In the summer of 2000 I headed off to America to work at a children’s summer camp in Connecticut as part of BUNAC (British Universities North America Club). (As an aside - this was the most amazing experience and I'm so glad that I took part in the scheme - I'll try and post about this separately).  I had packed my rucksack, dad dropped me off at Glasgow airport and I was away.  It was the first time I had flown solo, and also my first time in America – and so I was slightly apprehensive, but looking forward to the experience.

From camp I received letters from mum updating me on the news from Aberdeen (I still have these letters and it's nice to have a copy of her handwriting), and I also managed to phone home frequently.  However, one phone call brought more bad news – mum was in hospital again and the cancer was back.  She had to undergo more chemotherapy and it was heartbreaking.  I took the day off and cried my heart out in the ‘hospital’ at the summer camp.  I immediately wanted to return home, but mum and dad told me to stay, and assured me that mum would be fine.  In the end I stayed, and did manage to enjoy the rest of my trip, and I also went travelling with my friend Jenn after camp up and down the East coast.

On my return, dad collected me at Glasgow airport and drove me home.  Indeed, mum was fine and she was back at work as usual. 

Second year of university was difficult – the subjects were harder and I needed to study more.  In addition to the stresses of university life, mum was also deteriorating.  Due to the chemotherapy regimen that mum had been on, which was part of a clinical trial, she was being monitored more frequently than she would have been otherwise.  She had her usual blood test at the hospital and it showed up something abnormal.  Mum was taken for scans, but Alison and I never were told the result.  I knew she had been taken for a scan, and I asked dad a few times – have you got the scan results yet? – but it was always a no in response.  I think looking back, mum and dad were trying to protect us from the prognosis.  Alison was in her final year of secondary school, and I was in second year of university and we both had exams looming.  I respect their decision to keep the results from us, but I think I may have preferred to have had all the knowledge that they did at that time.

Mum was taken into hospital in March 2001 (I’m not 100% sure of this date, but it was roughly this time) – the cancer had spread yet again.  On the outside, mum still appeared to be same old mum, but on the inside, this horrible disease was ruining her.  

I had arranged to visit Israel in May after my exams, and this had been paid for and booked in advance.  I think mum and dad were apprehensive about my trip because of the politics in Israel at the time, but I was to be staying with a university friend and her family, so off I went.  I was upset to be leaving mum, especially seeing as she was still in hospital, but it was only at this point, when I was leaving, that I realised the extent of her condition when dad warned me that I may need to come home early.

Dad was right – six days into my 10 day trip I received a phone call to say I should arrange flights to come home early.  Mum had been told she had two weeks to live.  I was upset, and began to panic that I wouldn’t get home in time.  My friend’s father took me to a local travel agent, and I couldn’t swap my flights – I had to pay for an additional ticket home.  But the flight wasn’t until the next day.  I went back to the house and packed my things.  I think I went into auto-pilot: I just wanted to get home."

My mum when she was a girl

My mum feeding me as a baby

{#ShareAdvent - Childhood memories}

I've shared quite a lot of my own childhood memories here on the Glasgow Mummy pages... from my favourite childhood books (that I still have to this day!) to my favourite childhood toy (again, that I still have to this day!!). I've even shared pictures from my Christmas in Doha when I was 10 years old... with a funny looking Christmas 'tree'! 

So for today's #ShareAdvent prompt, Childhood memories, I thought I'd share a recent discussion I had with my ex regarding my children and their childhood memories.

Apparently the situation with Gavin, my ex boyfriend, has scarred the children (not sure that was the actual words he used, but it was something along those lines) and that they still talk about him (they've mentioned his name once in front of me since June). Gavin came on a short holiday with the kids and myself (although there were other people there, like my cousin and my sister for parts of the trip) and the ex is of the opinion that I've ruined their memories of their first holiday. I did explain that Gavin was introduced as a friend and we weren't in physical contact with each other in front of the kids. Have I really ruined their memories? I'm not sure I agree. I can't even remember any holidays I went on when I was 6 or 7, let alone what I was doing between the ages of 2-4 years old.

I gave it considerable thought before Gavin met the kids, and it didn't work out. It was my decision to end things. I'm now in a position where I'd like my new boyfriend, R (who I have been seeing for 5 months) to meet them, but the ex thinks I'm being selfish and it's not in their best interests.

I know the situation is far from ideal and I didn't see myself being a separated single mummy. But I want to move on. Obviously I don't want to do anything to jeopardise the children's wellbeing or safety etc but is it selfish that I want R to meet them? They're a massive part of me and my life.

Would appreciate any relevant comments or suggestions on this, from either point of view.