Wednesday 22 October 2014

What an absolute whirlwind the last 2 weeks have been. Such a rollercoaster of emotions for everyone. I don't even know where to begin.
With Mum having had melanoma twice before, we all thought the worst. A tumour on the brain. You can't get a lot more scary than that.

We were all expecting the worst - we truly thought the cancer would have spread, and that we may face losing our beautiful Mama.

Goes to show what we know. Mum has had surgery, and is already at home! There is no residual tumour showing on her MRI and she is doing remarkably well. Exceptionally well. In fact, you wouldn't have any idea, to look at her and talk to her, of what she has just been through.
Mum is such a fighter, but she is also real. She accepts that this is her path and that what is supposed to happen, will happen.

We aren't ready for her to go yet, and obviously neither is she. She is truly just so inspirational with her positivity, acceptance and 'get on with it' attitude.

I am so proud to call her my Mum.


When I was pregnant with Olive, I used to go and visit Mum at work most days. She worried that I'd stop visiting once I had the baby. If anything, I ended up visiting more! Olive and I would pop in to see Grandma and have a cup of tea. As Olive got older, she would practise her crawling up and down the hallway of the clinic.
My kids adore their Grandma Cheryl, and Mum adores them all just as much, of course as well as all the other Grandies!

This experience with Mum and melanoma again has made me think of Olive and her nevus. We all know her risk is increased, though we are unsure by how much (the experts these days tend to think it is exaggerated). It doesn't help me wonder though, are we doing the right thing by not getting an MRI? Lately I have been veering more towards asking for one, but our dermatologist wasn't that keen. He thinks it is looking for issues that aren't there. While I understand and to some degree agree with him, I still mull over whether it is the right choice.

The last few weeks have seen Olive becoming really sensitive to noise. She blocks her ears a lot and doesn't like strange or big noises. We had her ears checked a number of times with the GP but no problems there. Which got me wondering if there may be something going on inside that we don't know about.
And then we found out about Mum and as you can imagine, my anxiety started playing up, and so did my imagination.

So I have emailed our dermatologist to ask his advice and am trying not to worry. Why worry until there is something to worry about, right?

But I suppose as a parent, the worry is endless. No matter what.

Saturday 11 October 2014

My Mum has been there for me my entire life. She has stood by me even when I've made stupid decisions she doesn't agree with, and she's been there through all the tough times when things are out of my control. She has celebrated the happiness with me and laughed away my tears with me too many times to count.
I remember when I was little and I would hold her hand. I loved her naturally manicured finger nails and would press the tips of them against my fingers. They were strong and comforting, just like her.
Now it is our time to hold HER hand.

On Thursday, we discovered my beautiful Mum has a tumour in her brain, which they are 90% sure is the return of melanoma. She has had melanoma twice before - once in her ankle and again in her lymph nodes, both of which she had surgery for.
This couldn't have happened to a 'healthier' person. My Mum Cheryl and my stepdad Tim, are some of the most health conscious people I know. They ensure that everything that goes into their body is nutritious and full of goodness. Neither of them smoke, Mum doesn't drink, nor take drugs.
It just isn't fair. But I guess sometimes {really} shit things happen to the best people.

Mum is due to have surgery very soon and the recovery will be long and hard. We are all there for her and Tim to do whatever needs to be done.
But I just wish it didn't have to be. I wish my Mum didn't have to go through this, to be slapped in the face with such a harsh sense of reality.

I hate cancer.