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The Chronicles of the Weezie and the inflatable turtle
Weezie's random ramblings!!! Wahaaa!!
Oh, but it gets worse!
When I wrote that last journal entry, it was the end of April and Mum had just been admitted into hospital.

Well, guess what? She's still not home.

Yep. I know. So first it was the whole "draining 20+kgs of fluid from her body so they can do heart valve surgery for her heart murmur" situation. And that was all fine and dandy, well, not exactly, but the fluid was draining and things were on track.

But then...fluid wasn't draining. Not from anywhere around her stomach. Her stomach was still a big, solid hard lump. Fluid had drained all around it but there it still was, feeling much more solid than a stomach should. So doctors took her for a scan, and things changed suddenly.

Mum has ovarian cancer. Full on, stage 4, severe ovarian cancer. All I really know about it is it has spread to her liver, and it is not curable. It is terminal cancer.

What I don't know is just how terminal. So I know they aren't considering radiotherapy or anything of that nature, but the doctors said chemo could be considered as an option to reduce the tumour a bit to "give her a few extra months".

What exactly that means is a bit unknown. How many months is she expected to last as is, without chemo? How many more months might chemo give her?

I know doctors can't give exact time periods, and it's because they can't give exact time periods that they are reluctant even to give estimated time periods, but I feel that it's hard for me to fully process and truly understand this new information without a sense of time attached to it.

To me, there is a very big difference between if my Mum is going to pass away in two years as opposed to if she is going to pass away in two weeks.

All up, Mum was in Hutt Hospital for just over six weeks, and now she has been moved into Te Omanga Hospice temporarily, but apparently she will be going home soon. Throughout these few weeks that I've had, knowing the news about the cancer it still doesn't really feel real. It kinda just feels like something hypothetical that people talk about to me, and that I talk about with them, but isn't really happening. So mostly I don't react or get upset much. Not yet anyway.

To be honest, I feel I need more specific information about it, and more specific time frames about it to fully process it as a real thing that is happening.

Mum says she doesn't want chemo when the choice comes. She is in enough discomfort from medications already, for the cancer and the heart condition stuff that she feels the chemo would just be too much to deal with.

Dad and Nick feel quite differently, which I understand, but I support Mum's side of things. She's dealt with a lot of stuff, health wise over the years, so I understand her feeling it's time to call it quits. I can see this whole thing's hard for Dad, and so if anything I'm more concerned for him than Mum. Mum seems like she's accepted she's going to die, she's can't do anything to change it, so she might as well just stay calm and face it.

It feels weird to write stuff like this. Because again, I'm writing it, casually, calmly, like it's no big deal. And it's feels like it's no big deal. And that makes me feel guilty. Like maybe I'm a horrible person who doesn't care that my Mum is dying. And yet I know that that's not true.

It's just...like I say. None of it feels real. Not yet, anyway. Taina doesn't seem to quite understand. He seemed to think my lack of sadness was because of how of I've always had such mixed feelings towards my Mum in general.

If you don't know what I mean, skim back over this journal throughout the last ten years. I've made no secret, to my closest friends (and to this journal) that in the past I had some issues with my Mum- her negativity, the way she brought me down, criticised my weight, the clothes I chose to wear, the music I liked, the books I read, the TV shows I liked, everything.

But it hurt a little when he suggested that might affect the way I feel now. None of that stuff, no matter how much it mattered to me at the time, and no matter how much it affected the kind of person I became, changed the fact that she is my Mum and I love her.

I sit here calmly tapping on my laptop now on a Sunday morning, contemplating whether to look up wedding websites this morning before meeting up with some friends for lunch, while my Mum is lying in a hospice bed. It's not that I don't care, or that I am still angry at her for any of the stupid things she used to do and say to me...it's just that deep down, beneath the surface I'm still stuck in the belief she'll be around in ten years to criticise the way I look after my kids, and the way I run my house. I'm still stuck in the belief that in ten years I'll still have the privilege of getting to be angry at her for something.

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