Jenny’s Story
I lost my Mum just over two months ago, in the midst of a global pandemic. Mum was 81 when she passed away quite suddenly. She was such a young 81-year-old, in the way she looked and behaved. She was so active, independent and full of life compared to many women her age, however I began to feel that something just wasn’t right at the beginning of 2020. Mum seemed quite ‘flat’ and became more anxious to get out there, travel and experience life than she usually did. When the UK declared a lockdown in mid-March due to the spreading of the COVID-19 virus, I was distraught. Suddenly, my husband and I found ourselves working from home and juggling care of our 21-month-old son. My parents used to look after my son one day a week whilst I went to work, but that arrangement had to end due to the pandemic and we resorted to speaking to my parents over video chat. A week before lockdown happened, Mum began complaining of abdominal pain. She was never very good at going to the doctor, despite all our encouragement, as she was always so worried of what the doctor might find. She muddled through for a couple of weeks by taking painkillers but when I dropped off a food parcel at her door one day and saw how much pain she looked to be in, I insisted she seek medical help and, luckily, she agreed this time. Just as we had got our heads around the Big C that was Coronavirus, the other Big C came along to join the party. In a nutshell, Mum was taken to hospital and delivered a diagnosis of terminal pancreatic cancer that had spread to the liver. It still breaks my heart to think that she was alone when she was given that diagnosis, as none of her family could be with her due to restrictions.
Mum was told to expect around six months of life, so she returned home and our video chats resumed, as both Mum and Dad remained cautious about seeing family in lockdown. We cried and vowed that we’d get through this unknown period of lockdown, so we could see each other again. Sadly, that wasn’t to be. Two weeks after she was diagnosed, Mum suffered a minor stroke and spent a week in hospital, once again without visitors, where she was treated for a chest infection and blood clots on the lungs. We were able to contact her by phone, but the text messages, phone calls and video chats slowly faded out as Mum felt increasingly unable to cope with using her phone. I could feel her slipping away from me and I couldn’t see her to hug her, kiss her or tell her that I loved her. After a week in hospital, the decision was made to move Mum to a local hospice to get her symptoms under control so she could return home. The upside to this move was that the hospice was allowing one visitor per day during lockdown, and I spent three wonderful hours with my Mum the day after she was moved there – the most time I’d spent with her in weeks. It wasn’t completely ideal – she was slightly confused and obviously bed bound, but we were able to chat and hug.
Six days later, the call came early on a Friday morning to say Mum was deteriorating rapidly and we should go to the hospice. My Dad, my siblings and myself stayed with Mum all day as she drifted in and out of consciousness. We played her favourite songs and held her hand. She passed away at 5:45p.m. that day, exactly four weeks after being diagnosed with cancer.
Mum and I were always close, especially more so in the last decade or so, I’d say. She was the life and soul of the party and my friends often commented on how much of a ‘legend’ both my Mum and my Dad were. When I became a mother for the first time two years ago, Mum became my rock and she adored by baby boy. As much as I will miss her, what breaks my heart is that she won’t see my son grow up and I fear he is too young to remember her – although I vow to keep her memory alive.
A week after Mum was diagnosed, a kind stranger who responded to my bewildered post on a cancer support forum suggested I write Mum a letter to tell her how I felt about her, since I couldn’t have a heart-to-heart with her in person. I followed the advice and in response to the letter, I received the most wonderful message from Mum that I will never forget (she wasn’t great at talking about her feelings so a message probably felt more comfortable for her). I’m forever grateful for that person’s suggestion as I know that despite our mother-daughter disagreements over the years, Mum knew in her final days just how much I loved her.
