An Only Child and an Elderly Mother

I have started this post many, many times. It’s not just the fibro fog making the words difficult to find, it’s that actually committing my thoughts and fears to the page forces me to accept that they are real, tangible and inescapable. But I’m a grown up and I hope that writing this all down will be cathartic, help me to cope and if anyone else out there is going through a similar time, perhaps they will realise that they are not alone. My mum’s health, mental and physical, is deteriorating and her mortality scares me. I’ve documented elsewhere on this blog the problems I’ve had with my mother over the years. You can read about them here if you are interested. To summarise, ever since my dad died 31 years ago I’ve had to...

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Merry Christmas, Mum

Even before I left, I knew doing the Christmas shopping with my mum wasn’t a good idea. I was proven right. First, we went to Lidl. “What’s that?” “A jigsaw.” “Oh. That’s nice. What’s that?” “A calligraphy set.” “….” “A fancy pen.” “Oh. What’s that? That’s lovely, isn’t it?” “ It’s a wooden sled.” “A sled? Ah thought it wis a table.” “No, Mum.” “Oh, look, a dart board! Ah’d love a dart board. I wish I had somewhere to put it.” “But mum, your eyesight isn’t the best.” (She has macular degeneration and cataracts) “But it’d pass the time.” “Do you not think it’d be better to pass the time doing something that wouldn’t end up with broken lights, mirror, people…?” “Och, you! Oh, look, they’ve got darts too!” “No good without the dart board?” “What’s that?” Repeat ad...

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Arthur Miller’s Turning In His Grave

[tweetmeme source=”nettiewriter” http://www.URL.com] Another Tuesday, another tesco day with mum. Mum: Are you getting anything in Tesco today? Me: Yes, a few things. I need tea, bread, rolls…and if Claire had her way I’d be bringing home a pony. Mum: Phoney? Me: PONY! Mum: What? Me: A pony! It’s for Claire. She always asks me to bring home a pony! Mum: What? Me: Never mind, it’s just a joke. Mum: I don’t get it. Me: It doesn’t matter. Mum: It’s not funny. *** I picked up a book to browse through, Crucible by S.G.MacLean. Mum: What’s that book called? Me: Crucible. Mum: Crucible? Me: Yes. Mum: Since when were you interested in snooker? *** Me: Mum, do you need beetroot? Mum: What kind of fruit? Me: Can I...

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Ossama is Dead

I came home to a phone message from my mum. “Hello, it’s me. Mum. Just phoning you to let you know Ossama Bin Laden is dead, but everything is alright here.” The world will breathe easier for that, Mum. The social media...

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I have a sore bone.

[tweetmeme source=”nettiewriter” http://www.URL.com] Me: How are you? Mum: I’ve got a sore bone. Me: Sore bone? Mum: Yes, at my hip. Me: So you have a sore hip? Mum: No. It’s below my hip. Me: Your leg? Mum: Yes, the top of my leg. Me:So you have a sore leg? Mum: I don’t know what you call it. [tweetmeme source=”nettiewriter” http://www.URL.com] The social media...

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