By Jodie, whose mum was diagnosed with secondary breast cancer and died on her 57th birthday
1. Not the life I planned
So my mum was diagnosed with primary breast cancer and after a year of chemo and also a mastectomy we thought she was in the clear and we could move on with our lives a little more grateful than we were before. I went travelling for a few months and came back right before covid came at us in full swing. The day after I came home, I was sitting at the dinner table with my mum and my sister. This is when they broke the news to me that while I was away Mum was unfortunately diagnosed with secondary breast cancer (metastatic or stage 4 breast cancer as it is also known) and it is terminal. However the doctors said she could live up to 15 years. My poor younger sister carried this burden alone to protect me while I was travelling. They wanted to give me that time and I’ll forever be thankful to my family for that.
A few months later I found out I was pregnant. It isn’t how I imagined my pregnancy story to be, not only being in a pandemic but my mum has terminal cancer. A month or two later my mum began to get really unwell, doctors kept changing her treatment and taking breaks from treatment and every time the cancer spread more and every time the hope and positivity you had that we would have years left with her dropped a little more. I never could have planned for how much it would hurt. How can I become a mum without my mum?
2. Who will be there for you and your family?
In this whole process I never thought about people letting us down. But they do and most likely will, it didn’t affect me like I thought it would. You are so consumed with your mum and all the thoughts and feeling you can’t quite catch. People are selfish but that’s ok I guess, at least you know now who you can rely on. You really don’t sweat the small stuff, my mum is my life and I don’t care about anyone who doesn’t care about her. You also can’t comprehend how your life has been flipped upside down and everyone around you is carrying on in their normal day to day life, not realising how lucky they are.
3. What will I do when she’s gone?
This is something I ask myself every day and I just don’t know. If I am ever uncertain or need a little push, I go to my mum. Who will I go to when she is gone? I don’t want anyone else. I’m frightened that a question will come to me when she is gone and I’ll never be able to ask her. I’ll never hear her laugh or see her drunken shenanigans again, it hurts my heart. I feel like I’m going to lose a part of myself and I’ll never be able to get that back, the fact that I’ll probably live more of my life without her than with is something that makes me cry every time I think it. I know she will live on in me, my sister, and my daughter and it does give me some kind of comfort but I also selfishly think that isn’t good enough.
4. No more treatment
Mum was on the last treatment they could offer and has now been told she is too weak to carry on with it. It has all happened so quickly from them telling us she can live up to 15 years to in reality having 6 months of her being well to now telling us she is going to die soon. I felt numb when she told us. It is so surreal, you never think it’ll happen to you or someone you love. People have been coming to visit, each visit a little bit of you breaks off. To see my mum cry each time and her friends to walk in the room and break down is just too much to handle. I was a bit apprehensive for people to come because I don’t want people to remember her like this. She’s very weak now and you can tell she isn’t well and I hate talking about her like that. Now is just about taking every day as it comes and preparing.
5. How we are preparing
Not that you can ever truly prepare for something like this but we are capturing everything. Any conversations we have or little events we do for her we are videoing. We also have a book on questions to ask your mum before the end. This I find so helpful because you don’t realise how many questions you haven’t asked yet. It’s a great way to remember her and I hope will comfort us in the future. Asking her how she feels and just all being really honest is also something I would recommend. We discuss our fears, thoughts, feelings, funeral and our futures without her. Although the conversations are hard and not something you would ever have thought you would discuss, it does give you a little sense of relief. To be there for her when she needs us most is so important.
