Amy Wamy Posted December 4, 2014 Report Share Posted December 4, 2014 "Just do it" is a common phrase that many of us say to ourselves. What's the worst that will happen? Theres only one way to find out - just do it! Anyway, I'd like to share a little bit of my story since a lot of you share yours. I suppose it's easier to reply and understand once you know. It'd be nice to know if any of you have experienced similar things to me I was born in the UK and I had great parents (at the time), grandparents, cousins etc. Life started to change for me around the age of 7 as my parents relationship was the best at that time I don't think. I moved to America with my Mum when I was 9, as she had met a woman online and decided to eventually move over there, and we lived with her and her six children for 5 years. My Dad basically disowned me when I moved, but I don't really know - to this day - the full extent of what happened there. I had a happy 5 years in Texas as I was in the school band, I did athletics at school and had great friends. The last year or so living out there was when everything went down hill - my Mum was ill with a rare brain cancer. I didn't really understand fully what was going on. I helped out when I could, I saw her getting worse and worse but I don't remember every detail though. I didn't know how bad it was, I suppose you wouldn't want to tell a child that because they won't understand. I remember the dreadful headaches, awful neck pain, occasional bad tempers, the big brain operation, another one to fix a clot, another one for hydrocephalus, her going to chemo (I think I went once to see that it was okay, she wanted me to see it wasn't scary I think). After the operations, I remember her not being able to walk by herself, helping her to the bathroom and her double vision. Reading that now, I suppose I did witness a lot. I suppose I went through an ordeal, but clearly nothing...NOTHING compared to what she was going through. In 2007 (the year we moved back to the UK), we sort of got kicked out of the house. Everything was too much for Mums partner at the time. It must have been stressful and expensive, which is understandable, but I'm still a little bit bitter about it now, as you may understand. So, in June 07 I had to bring me and my Mum back to the UK, back home. Luckily, a couple of family acquaintances were in the states and paid for our airfare back home, but I suppose I had the biggest job of all and I didn't even realise it. Apparently, she was so ill she could have died on the way back to England, and I was non the wiser about it - looking back now, that was probably a good thing I didn't know. We had fun on that trip, a few laughs. Before we knew it we were back in England. In 2008, things got even more worse! I had sort of settled in, it was so quiet, so different from America. Sometimes I still wish I didn't have to come back because I was so happy there. I became friends with people who I used to know, which was nice, but my Mum was still not getting better. In November 08, she ended up in hospital. I remember being at school and my Nan called to say, I think I was worried, but I don't know. She never came out of hospital when she went in, but I did get to see her a couple of times even though I didn't particularly want to. I felt I was always pressured into going, yes it was my Mum, but I just think I was scared or something. I remember the last real moment though, I was sitting on the bed next to her showing her how to use the little TV's you get attached to your bed in hospital. It was nice from what I recall. Not many days after that was when her heart stopped, but they got a pulse and she went to the intensive care unit. I went to see her a few days before she passed when she was in there. The most awkward and uncomfortable thing ever. I'm always silent when I'm anxious or uncomfortable, and I was then. I was being watched and I felt under pressure to do something. I said nothing to her lifeless body that was being kept alive by machines. The last thing I said before I left the room was "love you" or something, I don't clearly remember. A few days later the machine was turned off and she was gone forever. That's a brief version of events, I hope it wasn't too long. Now, 6 years later, I haven't grieved or anything. I've always been quiet. Scared to let anything out, and I still am. I'm slowly convincing myself to go and see a counsellor, so maybe I should "just do it". What's the worst that could happen? I'll cry for ever, I'll relive everything again. I don't want to, but non of us here that have experienced a death wants to do it. We just somehow know that talking about it will help and it may be able to ease the pain. Now though, I'm at University and thinking about the future is odd because I won't have a Mother to help me do things that they do when you get older. Most of my friends have parents, and so it's hard for me because I don't. My Dad doesn't speak to me to this day, and it bother me a lot. Anyway, I'm rambling on. I just wanted to write something. If you took time to read it, thank you. It's late, and way past my bed time! I'm glad this forum is here, like all of us are. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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