Bereavement – seven months on 

I have been thinking about what I want to do with my blog for a while. I don’t know if blogging helps me, I don’t think I have anything new or interesting to say.

The past 7 months since my mum’s death has in general passed quickly. I have struggled with the grieving process and ended up having problems as a result. I’m now waiting for a referral to a specialist psychologist to help me come to terms with the loss of my mummy. 

The loss is overwhelming. It often feels like I might drown at any given moment as I am barely keeping my head above water. Heartbreak is something you hear about but until you experience it you don’t truly know what it is like. I literally do feel my heart is broken and it will never be put back together again. There’s a lot to come to terms with; I miss my mum more than I can put into words, my life changed  irrecoverably, every now and then I am struck with sheer panic and distress of how I am going to continue. 

On a day to day basis: I often get comments about how well I am doing, how I still smile and laugh. Often the smiles and laughter are genuine but occasionally it’s like playing a role. I feel at some point or another people are going to get bored of me grieving so I should pretend as much as possible to be like my old self, whatever that was. 

Life is linear and you can’t go back, whether I like it not this event will have changed me. I have gone from being someone secure in the knowledge that I am unconditionally loved by my mother to now feeling any love I have in my life is not certain or forever. I feel I am at going to end up pushing people away. I feel when my mum passed away a part of me went away with her, I feel this emptiness on a daily basis. 

Recently I’ve had hospital admissions and these were more stressful than I expected. One of the issues I think is on a subconscious level in that my mum died on a respiratory ward and it’s been distressing to be in that environment. I’m afraid that like my mum I may never go home again when I end up in there. This is further exacerbated by certain doctors who look after my asthma being quite blunt with me. Things got very stressful and I cracked. I’m now stuck on massive amounts of steroids which I feel helpless about because I’m too scared to tell them how fed up I feel about the fact I’m on all these steroids and things still aren’t right and haven’t been right since April. 

When I used to end up in hospital I always felt safe because my mum was there for me, she knew what my wishes were and she was always there to comfort me when I was in pain and struggling to breathe. During my recent admissions, intensive care have been involved and this can be scary at the time and I really feel I don’t want to be alone at that time. I was worried about if I was put to sleep if I would ever come back round again, or if my wishes would be respected. About 6 weeks after my mother passed away I was in hospital and requested certain things in the event I’m unable to say what I want to happen only this was shot down on the grounds of my age and current health. 

I have agonised over whether my mum should have been subjected to the resuscitation attempts because it was so invasive and effectively futile. Yes they got her back briefly but then lost her again and I can now appreciate something I couldn’t at the time. That is – she was frail. I wanted them to try to bring her back because I didn’t want to lose her and I knew 100% she wanted to live. But the thought I have now is that ultimately watching her die like this been distressing to me and possibly caused her more suffering than she should have endured. On the other hand it’s a comfort to know everything was done to try and bring her back and there aren’t really any what ifs.