Ma had her first walk out of the house yesterday. We reverse our mother-child relationship roles sometimes, and yesterday was one of those occasions. It was my cousin-in-law's birthday today and she felt guilty for not having sent him a card so wanted to walk to the shops to buy one. As a normal short walk, this is fine but post-operation it would have been too much for a first walk. So, I had to tell her NO. She accepted I was right and opted, instead, for a shorter walk to the post-box, with me in tow. My thought was that I'd chaperone her but she ended up waiting for me to catch up. It was bloody painful but I am glad I went. Adventure these days is a trip to the Morrisons pharmacy to get my co-dydramol. Or out into the garden to take macro-esque photos of the plants and flowers. It was a thoroughly lovely walk, my first such outing for weeks. It was a supremely delightful Spring day, with everything one could want, walk-wise - warm Sunshine, birds singing, daffodils and tulips and forget-me-nots (a bad joke pun is so tempting at this point, but I shall refrain) bobbing their floral heads in the refreshing breeze... I fell asleep when I got back. Twice. Obviously, I had pushed myself too far, I'm clearly not cut out for such extreme sports.
Mum's now had so many flowers delivered, by hand and by post, that we've had to hunt all the so-old-they're-at-the-back-of-the-cupboard vases. Currently, from where I'm sitting, I can see only 10 of the floral gifts so far. The newest bundle of scented gorgeousness to match my Ma's utter wonderfulness was from me. Freesias. Thirty stems of them. With flowers on the top; just stems would be a bit rubbish and that would not do. They're her favourite flowers and I didn't want to order them until I saw she was OK, which was when she came home, last Thursday. When I came down this mor-... afternoon (I told you the walk done me in, like) I was so desperate to get my tablets down me, I hadn't noticed the freesias in a vase occupying the only available space for a vase. Mum had got my orange juice and cup with teabag in (no sugar, mind) ready for me, filled the kettle... Then she looked at me when I'd sat down to take my tablets. And she said "Thank-you" and that I'd made her cry. Again. I hoped she'd be pleased with them! Honestly, some people. They are stunning flowers, though. She liked my note, too, about hoping they weren't too squashed. And my hoping other things weren't too squashed...
I still wish I could do more to help her. It's strange - today has been really terrible for pain, I've had so much and more than enough and it seems the codeine can't be bothered to work anymore, likewise mefenamic acid (Ponstan). But, despite this shocking inner (seemingly) ripping-apart-of-my-womb-and-other-lady-bits feeling and all the other agonies that have gone with it today, I'm feeling about 30% better, emotionally, than I did a couple of days ago. This confuses me. Admittedly, it doesn't take much. Although, there were a few tears earlier when the kicks were a bit too much, it's been an all right day: today was Sunny; I watched Just Good Friends, again (it's really good. Shame I was too young at the time it was first broadcast to watch it); I sort of helped Mum unload the dishwasher (she, one-handed; I, leaning on said dishwasher handing her a plate at a time, sometimes two. I know! Team work. Yeah!!) and we had lovely hugs. One-sided hugs, i.e. her right side.
Oh, and Ma got another "Get Well Soon" card. Running out of space for those, too. She is AMAZING. I don't think she realises how wonderful she is, she doesn't understand how highly she is regarded by so many people. She might have a bit more faith in that fact now that she's had so many bouquets of flowers and visitors (not bouquets of visitors...), cards and calls, emails and hugs. She's wonderful. She's my Mum and I'm so proud of her for so many reasons. She's one of the most inspirational people I know: my Dad is the other one. I only hope I can, one day, be as brilliant as she is.
Lucy -- a not-typical Essex "girl" and 30-something Artist -- witters on about the (probably) utterly useless tellings of current everyday life with her now-lone endometriosis-plagued ovary and ghostly ex-womb.
Thursday 9 April 2009
Walking with yo Mumma. Or something...
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