Same warning, don’t read on if you’ve no stomach for medical matters.
So I am blessed to have a cousin whose husband trained as a doctor, then a surgeon, the result of which is that they came down on Saturday to help manage us coming to terms with my mothers news of end stage cancer. It was just as well, my mother has gone yellow, and may yet go green (then my youngest really will think she is wearing make-up just like the lady in *Wicked*). They stayed with us all afternoon at my parents, gently helping my mother to deal with us and her situation as we sifted through all the talk, trying to get down to the facts and get a clearer picture of where we were, what would be the best way forward for my parents. I am hospital phobic and my dad’s strengths are admin, paperwork, making things (mess, sheds, railway models) I was weighing up in my mind how equipped we are to make this as easy as possible for my mum and can only conclude *thank god for cousins and aunts*. Later, my uncle arrived and broke down when he saw my mum, reminding me of how much tragedy my mother’s family have already seen. As the rest of us stood out in the garden to give them some space, my cousin in law suggested *beers* later that evening. I wasn’t sure I wanted to do much other than sleep but guessed he wanted to talk over the day so we agreed they’d come round to our house, later on.
Never drink with Doctors, even ex-doctors, or singers, don’t do it, its lethal. Tom, my cousins husband, had a lot of information and options he wanted to take us through and obviously thought that copious amounts of alcohol would be the easiest way to make it all palatable. That kind of knowledge is both a blessing and a curse and I still can’t decide whether he needed to be that drunk to tell us or we needed to be that drunk to hear it. Either way, my fella couldn’t raise his head above sea level all the following day so I think it worked. And now it begins, the plans, the care, the process, the end.