Visiting Mum

533257_354654481282249_1155705509_n A week ago yesterday my ninety three year old mum was rushed into hospital with a strangulated hernia. After a three hour operation in the early hours of the morning, the worst was over.

Because the three of us, my sister, my brother and I all live a fair distance away visiting wasn’t straightforward. Pete is working full time, Anuk is a self employed artist and I’m a writer. Since I can write anywhere, I picked up my HP notebook and  came to stay with my daughter and son-in-law, who luckily live in the same city.

The week that followed was surreal. Every morning I got on a bus that took me across the city, through parts of Bristol I’d never seen before, to Southmead Hospital. I’d spend a good part of the day with Mum, then about 3. 30 in an attempt to beat the rush hour I’d be back on that bus.

The journey took an hour. A good time to think and plan the next book, or short story, but the mind doesn’t work like that. My thoughts skittered all over the place. Obviously I was concerned about Mum’s progress and when and where she would recuperate, but my thoughts dipped in and out of time. I had vivid images of bus journeys to and from school, of what it was like coming to stay with my parents when my kids were young and then odd glimpses of the lives of fellow passengers, or people I saw in the street.

At the end of it, I’d limp back to Lucy’s where I was fed and watered and generally looked after until it was time to start the whole process the next day.

The oddest thing of all was how quickly this all seemed normal. The rest of life was like something seen at the far end of a telescope. All that mattered was being there with Mum.

Coming home was a jolt to the senses. Having to do more than travel, visit, eat, sleep and do it all over again, felt so odd. There was a strange feeling of distance of not being quite here yet.

Already that’s fading. There’s nothing like having to wash the cat’s paw prints from the kitchen floor to bring you back to reality. And writing this blog too makes everything seem more normal.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s