GUEST – far away from the ones i love

One of the worst things about living abroad is being far away from your family, and not being there for them if something bad happens. A couple of years ago my mother phoned me to let me know that she was ‘popping into hospital the next day for a simple little thing’.

The simple little thing turned out to be removal of an early stage tumour in her breast. She hadn’t wanted to worry me, so didn’t tell me until the last minute.

I was horrified and wanted to get on the next flight, but she insisted that she didn’t want me there until she was better. I sent flowers and phoned every day but I felt useless, worried and sad.
This year she did it again. She phoned me to let me know she was having some tests done but it was nothing to worry about. Unfortunately though, it was another tumour, this time in her womb. She was booked into hospital straight away for a complete hysterectomy, an 8 day stay.

Again (for certain reasons) she didn’t want me to fly over to be with her until she was recovered. The night of her operation I waited for my father to call me. By 1am I still hadn’t heard anything and was a nervous wreck. Eventually I heard that the operation had been delayed and she had just been wheeled into recovery. It was gone 2am and I woke up my husband so he could comfort me while I cried with relief and frustration.

I phoned her every day while she was recovering and was told about all the flowers, cards and visitors she had. My friends and ex-boyfriend all went to see her, my brothers rallying round, cooking meals for my father who was too worried to eat. I have never felt so horribly useless in my life, but had promised her not to visit until she was well enough to hug her grandchild.
Then they found spots on her liver, which after 2 biopsies were linked to the breast cancer from 2 years ago. She was started on a strong course of chemo the day after I went over to visit. She was very sick for 3 days but stubbornly tried to hide it from us. It was heartbreaking to see.  More that anything she was scared about losing her hair. I convinced her to find a good wig before her hair started falling out, which she hadn’t thought of doing. Then back home, over the phone I taught her how to wash the wig and how to secure it with grips. That is the only thing I feel I have done that has been useful.
I wish I could be there to help her. I wish I didn’t live so far away. She says the doctors are pleased, the chemo is working well. I hope she is telling me the truth.

I haven’t been able to write about this before, so thank you to Annika for giving me this opportunity to offload some of my thoughts.