sometimes you just can't put everything into words.

Hello readers.

As some of you may already know, I had some extremely upsetting and distressing news just before Christmas. My mum passed away on Thursday 19th of December.

Its not a very big sentence but it is the hardest one in the world to say right now, it really is. So please forgive me for not necessarily writing or saying the correct things to you all. It is not intentional but as you can expect, my head is all over the place right now.
What I write next is basically what happened and how, I try not to write to detailed and upset you all nor do I try and write too bluntly as though I do not care. Do not mistake the tone of this post either, as it is hard to write but easier than telling people face to face. I can't physically tell anymore people as it breaks my heart a little bit more to upset another human being to that amount.

We had to call an ambulance on Monday as she had a raging urine infection with a very high fever and a chest infection on top of that, she was unresponsive for majority of the time and delirious  and unfocused when we could wake her. Please understand, this developed over the course of a few hours, not days.
The ambulance arrived and took us to the hospital on blues and twos - this scared the life out of me because they had never done this before - and arrived at A and E where she was taken away from me into Resus. Again, this scared me as well as they had never done this either, I have always been allowed to stay with her regardless and she had always been taken into Majors rather than Minors or Resus. After half an hour we were allowed to see her and were told that the infection was indeed serious and had caused her to become tachycardic - meaning her heart was beating too fast and not efficiently pumping oxygen.  They were also worried about her level of dehydration and pumped her full of liquids as well as Paracetamol for her fever and antibiotics (Gentamyacin and Teicoplanin).
Around 11pm I sent my dad home whilst I set up for a long night. At around 2am we eventually found that she was being moved to MAU (medical assessment unit) for overnight observations, before being moved to a proper ward as soon as a bed became available.
When I left shortly before 3am, she woke up extremely confused and frightened and proceeded to cry a lot before I eventually managed to calm her down and get her back to sleep. I went home very upset and tired.
Next day (Tuesday), I went to the hospital after deciding not to go to work (I thank Lush Romford for being very understanding about this), and went to go find Mum. When I eventually managed to relocate the MAU ward (the hospital is a maze), I found Mum very uncomfortable, still confused and delirious with a high temperature. She had also managed to knock out her canula (needle that makes easy access to veins) and her sheets were covered in blood. So I had a rant at the nurses who obviously didn't give a crap. Changed her myself, cleaned her up as well and went home again - I also managed to find her MS Nurse Kate Jackson - to whom we are all eternally grateful for everything she has done - who proceeded to go have a look at mum.
On Wednesday morning she was moved onto a proper ward (Bluebell) where she was finally given more antibiotics. Unfortunately thanks to a stupid design issue, the wards are constantly kept at an uncomfortably warm temperature and the windows are not able to open more than an inch or so. Mum again developed a temperature but this time it hit a new high of 40.2°C and we struggled to keep it down or cool her at all. I constantly kept cleaning her over with babywipes in an attempt to get some liquid to evaporate and cool her, the nurses opened all the windows and doors and we tried to get paracetamol into her as fast as we could. After around 2 hours, a doctor came up who informed me that mums infection markers (not sure if that is the correct phrase) had elevated to a high level so they were going to stick her on a third heavy duty anti biotic - I can not recall this ones name - and up her fluid intake.
And it is horrible to recall this but I remember at the time the thought occurring to me that this might be putting a lot of strain on mums kidneys - repeat infections, increased liquids, antibiotics, etc.
However, when I and my dad left the hospital at around 7pm that evening, she had cooled down a little and was much more lucid and said she felt better in herself. This was the last time I saw my mum alive.
Next morning, she rang home and told my dad that she wanted her wheelchair and dvd player, so he and my brother drove it up to the hospital before work. The nurses were happy to put her into her wheelchair but stipulated that it would be after she had another course of antibiotics. They said goodbye and promised we would all be up later after work. This was the last time they saw her.
Around 11am I was getting ready to leave for work when I received a phonecall from the hospital telling me I needed to get there urgently but they refused to tell me why. Thinking it was probably something serious but do-able, like she needed surgery and we had to sign things off or maybe they were having issues getting veins (mum had notoriously deep veins and they were near impossible to get cannulas into) and needed permission for a different access point, I rang dad and told him what was going on.
When I got to the hospital, he had already gotten onto the ward but again, the nurses were refusing to let him see mum or to talk to him. When I arrived the Sister of the ward took us into her office and said we had to wait for the doctor to arrive.
Again, me and dad were both thinking it was something serious but do-able, we told her to just tell us and get on with it...
And she told us.


I will be perfectly honest and say that I did not handle it well and went into shock. I howled and screamed and shouted. My dad cried. I have never seen my dad cry like that and I NEVER want to again. Even Sister cried.

After Mum had had her antibiotics, they had begun to hoist her into her chair but Sister had looked at Mum and said that she didn't look right, so they would put her back on the bed and try again. As they started to lower her down, she went limp. From what Sister has told me, she essentially went into cardiac arrest (heart stopped) and they could not get her back again.

I did not want to see her, because in my mind if I saw her, then it was true and I would have to accept it. But I did and she was on this bed in another room on her own. And its true what they say, she did look like she was asleep. She was my mum and she would wake up, this was all just a horrible joke. I mean, she was warm and asleep and just delirious like before.
But she wasn't and she didn't wake up no matter how I begged and cried or how tightly my dad held her hand.

And then we had to leave... we had to tell my brother who was still at work.


We spent the next 2 days having to inform the rest of our family and friends and going through the same damn conversation over and over. No matter how many times you have it, saying those horrid, evil words each time will still stick in your throat and make you cry and then they make the other person cry and you feel even worse for not only going through the whole entire malevolent situation but having to tell that other person and put them through exactly the same thing.

I felt strung out beyond any kind of pain before. I had had to tell my older brother over the phone and NO situation on this earth is worse than telling someone that sort of news without being able to hold them or them to hold you.
Neither me, my dad or my brother slept that night, nor did my nan or my uncle who came to help us. The next couple of days were just as bad. My dad and I were having issues eating, neither of us wanted to and whatever we did eat just wasn't right and made us feel sick. My brother had to force us and remind us to, especially my dad who is also diabetic.

The strange thing is, and many may disagree because I think this is probably a personal thing rather than the norm, going to the funeral directors was slightly, just ever-so-slightly relieving. Like things were being done, but not that we had to do them as such. Not sure if that makes sense to anyone or not, but that's what I felt.

Christmas was 6 days after... and it wasn't great. We had dinner and presents but it wasn't the same. On ANY level, she wasn't there orchestrating everything, causing havoc and winding Dad up. We were miserable. We are miserable.

5 days after Christmas was my 23rd birthday and that was bad. I didn't sleep the night before at all. I just cried. Literally the entire night. It didn't matter what I did, she was in my head, all I could think of, things I missed, things she'd say. Most importantly, cuddles. I wanted a cuddle. That was the one thing I wanted more than anything from her. Don't get me wrong, I love my dad, he is the best man in my life and always will be, but I still want her too.

It is now January the 1st, it has been 13 days since my Mum passed away and I think I still do not accept it, I don't know. I'm still confused about it, I don't understand it, I keep thinking that she is going to be downstairs when I get up, asking for coffee because the carers 'make shit coffee' and to get me to let the dogs out. Nothing makes sense in my head. I don't sleep and I look like a panda with huge bruises under my eyes.

So now some of you know a little of what is going on in my head. Emotionally, I have nothing. Mentally, I am a mess.

If you want to attend her funeral, please do so. It is at Forest Park Crematorium in Hainault on Friday 10th January at 2:15pm.
Im sorry if what I have written has upset you at all. But this is what happened, and how we are doing. Some days are better than others but its hard and to be blunt, sympathies and condolences mean diddly shit to me. I want my mum.