hillwalker
11-12-2012, 07:04 PM
COPING STRATEGIES
November the 8th, 1999. That was the day mum was told by her doctors that she had an inoperable brain tumour. They gave her less than five weeks to live.
Dad took it the worst, as if he was the one who wouldn't get to see in the new millennium. All that fuss gone to waste. He was distraught. The money he'd spent on mum's Christmas present. He'd never get to see her eyes light up when she opened it. A crying shame. And the chances of getting his cash back on a second-hand Dyson vacuum cleaner were slimmer than slim given that he'd bought it in a car boot sale.
Mother wasn't as distraught as one might expect. She was angry. Angry that she was being cheated out of the restful years of her life. Recently retired she'd been looking forward to spending more time with dad and watching her grandchildren grow up. Catching up on her embroidery or pottering about in the garden. The simple things were the most precious.
We suggested bringing Christmas forward. Holding the festivities a month early. Then at least mum could have her share of the turkey dinner and Aunt Ethel's sherry trifle. But she refused point blank. Said everything would taste like ashes.
'Might as well bring my funeral forward as well,' she muttered. 'Get it all over and done with in one go.'
So we had a family meeting behind mum's back. Got dad to do something adventurous for once in his life. Put his hand in his pocket. It meant him taking out most of his life savings. Cashing in our inheritance. But a last minute holiday - two weeks of winter sunshine in the Caribbean on a luxury cruise liner for less than £1,000 a person - seemed too good an opportunity to miss. It would make those final few days so much easier for everyone.
You should have seen the look on mum's face. She couldn't hide the fact that she'd been expecting to come with us.
H
November the 8th, 1999. That was the day mum was told by her doctors that she had an inoperable brain tumour. They gave her less than five weeks to live.
Dad took it the worst, as if he was the one who wouldn't get to see in the new millennium. All that fuss gone to waste. He was distraught. The money he'd spent on mum's Christmas present. He'd never get to see her eyes light up when she opened it. A crying shame. And the chances of getting his cash back on a second-hand Dyson vacuum cleaner were slimmer than slim given that he'd bought it in a car boot sale.
Mother wasn't as distraught as one might expect. She was angry. Angry that she was being cheated out of the restful years of her life. Recently retired she'd been looking forward to spending more time with dad and watching her grandchildren grow up. Catching up on her embroidery or pottering about in the garden. The simple things were the most precious.
We suggested bringing Christmas forward. Holding the festivities a month early. Then at least mum could have her share of the turkey dinner and Aunt Ethel's sherry trifle. But she refused point blank. Said everything would taste like ashes.
'Might as well bring my funeral forward as well,' she muttered. 'Get it all over and done with in one go.'
So we had a family meeting behind mum's back. Got dad to do something adventurous for once in his life. Put his hand in his pocket. It meant him taking out most of his life savings. Cashing in our inheritance. But a last minute holiday - two weeks of winter sunshine in the Caribbean on a luxury cruise liner for less than £1,000 a person - seemed too good an opportunity to miss. It would make those final few days so much easier for everyone.
You should have seen the look on mum's face. She couldn't hide the fact that she'd been expecting to come with us.
H