Things have been a little busy around here but I'm going to attempt a little catch up. It will be short and brief! I'm tired.

Well, we're finally in a 2 bedroom flat and have been for almost 2 weeks now. The place is decorated and we're at home.

For 4 weeks, my mum has had to fight to be seen. She was told she would meet with the surgeon up to 2 weeks after her last appointment and it has now been almost 4. She is heading into hospital on Monday but she has really had to fight for it. Daily phone calls that weren't going through to eventually finding out she wasn't even on the bloody system after 3 weeks.

Now, on Monday, she is heading into hospital where they'll make a small cut in her throat and put a camera down. They'll be checking out her lymph nodes and behind her breast bone. If there's nothing there, it will be surgery where at least 1/3rd and up to the whole lung will be removed. If there is something, it'll be 3 months of chemo and radiation and hoping for the best.

Her friend Caroline, with the exact same thing, has just had her chemo and radiation and amazingly is now in remission... it's fantastic and has lifted our hopes quite a bit.

However, last Monday Gerald passed away. Throughout the day, he'd been all wrapped up and cold and he passed very suddenly. It was such a shock and my granny is devastated.

Now, we're sitting here watching a horror movie. My mum has been a bit cold today - she's usually boiling even in the dead of winter - and has quite significant pain. "Maybe it's my body shutting down like Gerald's," she said. I scoffed and told her not to be silly... I hadn't even thought like that till she mentioned it. Now? I'm worried. Scared to sleep and scared to wake up in the morning... just in case. I'm scared.

Ugh.

The past while has been really hard on us, my mum especially of course. Having to beg her son to help us move and being reduced to tears twice whilst doing so. Complications with the move. Money.

Tomorrow marks the end of the 2 week window where she should have heard from the hospital (she hasn't) and now, she's getting quite bad pain. She's not sleeping very well and the stronger pain killers make her feel awful. She's currently nodded off on the sofa, praying they'll wear off soon. She'd rather have the pain, she says, than feel how she does.

This is just... heartbreaking. It's so easy to forget that she has this thing inside her but a short, sharp reminder is never far behind.

I am incredibly unhappy with my brother and that's not likely to change soon.

I wish I could do more to help but I am helpless. Useless. There's nothing I can do.

I wish I could switch places with her.

Thinking back.

With this cancer going on in my mum, it's meant my grandad has been in my thoughts a lot more than he usually was. Until not, it was a fleeting memory every so often but they've been hitting me everyday for a while.

Like going to their house every Sunday for dinner with the rest of my cousins and aunts and uncles and me being the only one allowed in the kitchen to watch him.

Or staying with them when my mum was in hospital for 6 weeks having a hysterectomy and he didn't want to hand me back because I made him laugh so much.

Staying the night with them and sitting at his feet, watching Poltergeist (the show, not the movie).

Waking up in the middle of the night when staying with them to find him struggling to get my Rainbow's piniform off.

His birthday parties every new years eve.

Coming home from school one day to my grandad in the living room telling me that my mum, sister (?) and brother had gone to a football game I'd desperately wanted to go to.

Then coming home from school to my grandad in a bed in the living room, barely able to move.

Going to my sisters dads late in the night, him getting a phone call and me just knowing he was gone.

One of the hardest things of my grandads death was not getting to say goodbye. When we were sent to my sisters dads, no one told us why until we were told her had died.

I wasn't allowed to go to the funeral. My mum thought I was too young. I don't blame her in any way whatsoever but not ever having said goodbye is, I think, a big part of the reason that I am not in any way close to having dealt with his death.

I still remember my granny's death like it was yesterday, too. My uncle, his wife at the time and my 2 cousins were staying with us whilst they got back on their feet. I woke up in the bottom bunk to my sister and the older cousin staring at me. "Granny's dead," my sister said. I remember knowing it was true but outright refusing to believe her. My aunts and uncles had gathered in my mums bedroom and I remember coming out of my bedroom and sitting outside the door in the pitch black, not being able to bring myself to open the door to the room they were in because I just could not believe it was real. It was so sudden. So unexpected. A brain hemorrhage. No goodbye for her, either. The smell of mint chewing gum and the taste of the first cigarette after chewing gum will always remind me of her (not that I will ever taste that again). This was the year (or 2?) before my grandad so again, too young to say goodbye.

My grandad McEwan. I was 15 at the time, living in Durham. I woke up one weekend and told my mum I wanted to drive up to Edinburgh and surprise them, my granny and grandad, with a visit. So we did. I got to the door, knocked and waited. My granny opened it and told us my grandad had just died. I remember I had not long had my nose pierced and, as she pulled me into a hug, the jewellery got caught in her jumper and tore out. I didn't even feel it. Remember walking into the living to see him lying on the sofa, like he was asleep. So peaceful.

Again, no goodbye. We were either out of the UK or couldn't afford to travel up... I'm not too sure. But no goodbye.

No closure.

Overwhelming.

The key word.

I went to bed a couple of nights ago and, lying in the dark in silence, I was totally overcome with the most intense feeling of being completely and utterly overwhelmed. In that moment, it hit me that this is real. My mother has cancer. The physical sensations were bizarre; almost like I could feel something gripping around my throat and heart at the same time, literally choking the life out of me.

I woke up the next morning and it was gone. Once again, my mind refusing to play ball with reality. In a way, it's a blessing. A breakdown would be inevitable if my head were able to wrap itself around this constantly. But, on the other hand, it makes moments like that night in bed far more intense than it would have been. Like I'm feeling a months worth of emotions in a minute.

She speaks to people about her cancer in the presence of me and it's like she's telling someone elses story. Like she's talking about a film or TV show we watched the night before.

Sometimes, when she's asleep on the sofa, I'll look at her and repeat in my head "she has cancer. She has cancer." But still, my mind just won't accept it.

But then I find myself choking back tears randomly. Like a song with sad undertones will come on the radio in the car and the lump in my throat becomes a choking hazard. Or I could just be sitting on the sofa watching Jeremy Kyle and oh, there it is again.

Sigh. There have been a few tears since I last updated but a few happy moments, too. Like Hampden for the semi-final on Saturday!






But anyway... less about me and more about my mother; she is who this is about.

Her PET scan was normal. Clear. The relief was huge. The cancer is in her lung and her lung alone.

The next step is meeting with the surgeon. First, she'll get a camera through a small cut below her throat to have a nose about behind her breast bone. If there are no loose cells, she will go into surgery and at least one third - and maybe the lot - of her lung will be removed.

If there are cells, it will be chemo and radiation and hoping for the best.

That last thing floored me (oh look, back to me again... sorry).

As I mentioned before, my mum's friend Caroline has exactly the same and has just finished the 3 months treatment because they found cells. Well, everyone was under the impression that the 3 months treatment was to try and get rid of them so they can operate.... Well, apparently not. Because of those loose cells, the surgeon will not open her up. At all. Even if the cells are gone. Now, she has nothing but more chemo and radiation and pray that it works.

It completely and utterly floored me. Before, I was scared they would find cells.

Now? I'm terrified.

Day 12. Biopsy results.

My mum is still coughing up blood but she was at her doctor on Tuesday who told her not to worry. The colour of it indicated that it was still remnants left over from her extensive bleed during the biopsy rather than fresh bleeding. Which eased my mind greatly!

We went out to my brothers for dinner after that and the kids were in such great moods. Ben hates having his photo taken but he was really eager to get one taken with granny! It was supposed to be both him and Eilidh Grace but the little one wasn't having it! So that's a task for next time, I think. It was nice.

Thursday was the day of her pet scan. She'd spoken the night before about how scared she was; she's very claustrophobic so was really anxious about it! But, thankfully, she said it was fine. That she just kept her eyes closed. It's just a waiting game for the results! We spent the rest of the day looking at wallpaper and eating pizza haha!

Today, Friday, was her appointment at the clinic with her consultant. The first time in over a month that she has spoken to someone. Ridiculous.

There were students in the room and I think it was her CT scan on the screen? The cancer was lit up like a neon light and massive. 5 centimeters. And then he, the consultant, confirmed it and I fought back the tears but lost. It's the confirmation, I think. I've spoken to a couple of friends before about how awful I felt for not being horrendously devastated and even said to my mum that I feel better now than I did when we were waiting constantly with no answers. But it's just not true, I know that now. Until now, I was clearly playing blissful ignorance. My mind had shut it off, maybe to protect me, but now that I've heard the words from the mouth of a professional, I can't really do that anymore so the tears came.

He confirmed cancer. Adenocarcinoma most likely. He said he doesn't have the full report from the PET scan but - "I shouldn't say this" - it looked good. And, once he has the full report, if it IS good, then she'll be scheduled for surgery. This is what my mum's friend Caroline has. However, they found more cells behind her breast bone and she's recently completed 3 months of chemo and radiation before surgery was an option.

My brother went home rather than returning to work after the appointment; it ended with my mother comforting us when it should have been the other way round. She's very positive about it. I however, can't get past the 15% 5 year survival rate.

Now, we wait for the call from the consultant with the pet scan results.

I also paid the entrance fee for something I'm both incredibly excited about and pooping my pants over at the same time! On July 13, I'll be driving up to Perth to make the 14,000ft jump. Skydiving for The Roy Castle Lung Cancer Foundation - The only charity in the UK wholly focused on defeating lung cancer. Let the fundraising begin! https://www.justgiving.com/tonipreston2013

My mum, however, has had a bit of a funny turn. She couldn't decribe what it felt like but it was her head and she was seeing things in her peripheral vision. She's convinced it's in her head; that it's spread.

Day 08. Easter.

Mum is still staying here, thankfully. It was Easter yesterday and we realised the day before that we still didn't have a turkey... so the hunt was on! We visited Tesco and Sainsbury's and nothing... time was getting tight for letting it defrost so we hot footed it to Iceland, praying! All the way round and nothing. Then, in the last aisle, we bumped into my aunt Sheila... with a turkey in her basket! Hah! We got one!

After defrosting it, it didn't finish cooking until almost midnight and there was only one place to keep it where it couldn't be reached by hungry cats.. the bathroom! So covered up in layers of tinfoil and a towel and the bathroom out of bounds till morning, we went to bed. Brushing my teeth yesterday morning was heavenly! Nothing like the smell of turkey in the morning :P

It was a nice day, easter. I was, and am, however, plagued with thoughts. On Thursday, she has her PET scan that will determine whether the cancer has spread or not. Again, she will be in hospital for hours and this time no one is allowed to sit with her at all because of the radiation. They'll inject a radioactive form of glucose, she'll have to rest for an hour, have the 30 minute scan then rest for 2 and then she can go home where, the letter informs her, she will remain radioactive for the following 8 hours.

The next day, Friday, is her appointment at the clinic where she'll hopefully get some more information, have questions answered and get the results from her biopsy. I think these results might tell us the stage her cancer is at but I'm not entirely sure. My brother is coming with us for this one.

We've spent the past bit-over-a-month in fear, clinging desperately to some form of hope. That was dashed when her diagnosis came but a new sliver of hope dangled down that we reached up to and grabbed with both hands. The hope that will be founded on Friday. Or horribly, disastrously dashed.

I can't even describe the feeling. It's like teetering over a cliff edge, clinging on with the tips of your toes and swaying, knowing that an Earth shattering gust of wind could sweep down at any given moment. Sweep you over the edge and soaring into a mess of a world you never thought possible. Crashing down your only foundations. Crushed.

Day 06.

No photos (of my mother) today nor a lot of words to say.

I had a 10th birthday party to photograph so spent the better part of it not-with-Mum. The party was for the daughter of my cousins friend so, whilst she was at the party also, my mum and hers entertained themselves shopping. Fun was had, apparently!

We did, however, head out to a cafe for breakfast this morning. Just the 2 of us, it was nice. Mum was very upset the cafe didn't do hash browns :P

Again, we've been touching "normal". It almost feels like a warm summer's day but with a thick, dark cloud hovering above. A constant threat of rain.