Having finally at last oh fucking hallelujah moved has taken a lot of tension out of my system. It was looming over me for ages, and my resilience to stress isn't at its greatest at the moment. That, combined with one thing ending as it was always going to end, has seen me reduce Three Giant Awful Things down to One Giant Awful Thing, and I almost feel like a normal person. Almost.
This incident shook me up a fair bit. I've moved away from talking about family here, because my family is mine, mine I say, and some things shouldn't be shared with anyone who passes by, but I'm going to break with that now. This One Giant Awful Thing turned out to be bowel cancer. Mum was in hospital for two weeks, and even after they sent her home it was another good three to four weeks before she was able to go a whole day out of bed. I visited her every day she was in hospital, bar one, and worked a full time job, and I'm still feeling the impact of that. She started chemo last week.
I used to assume that everyone had a great relationship with their parents, could take their support and love for granted, and know they were always welcome home. Which, as I've learned, is a rather naive assumption, and just goes to show how lucky I am. Most people in this developed western world probably come to deal with the fact that their parents grow old, come to realise that one day they will die and there won't be a home to go back to. That's just life. It doesn't make it any easier to deal with, though, and I don't think I have even begun to deal with it. There's still too much to come for me to start processing what it really means (but I know I'm tired and I'm frightened).
We just left her in hospital, again, after a whole day in the emergency rooms, again, while they did x-rays and ultrasounds, again, and tomorrow she'll have surgery, again.