In mid-September, I was unable to get through to my mum, either by her mobile or her landline, for over two weeks. This led me to fear the worst, given that her health has not been great for some time, and given that she had experienced a fall and chest pain in some days before I last spoke with her.
Given my anxiety, granted that it is no excuse, as I know that it was truly, completely out of selfishness, I reacted to this, being unable to get through to my mum, by putting my mobile on airport mode. I continued to use my mobile for its clock and calendar, and for a QR code in its virtual wallet that I would use at a local cafe, which I could continue to do whilst the mobile was on airport mode.
I firstly excused this behaviour, this trying to protect myself from bad news, because Abu’s bronchoscopy was approaching, and I was already suffering extreme anxiety about this, I was terrified about the possibility of losing Abu under general anaesthesia. In fact, as the date approached, I felt as though I was experiencing a countdown, towards the end of my life. I was so scared about coming back home that day, without my dog, well, with a cold, rigid version of my dog, in some cardboard box they might give me. In the weeks leading up to the bronchoscopy, my worries about money were also still mounting.
Thankfully, just before Abu’s bronchoscopy, I started to receive some welfare support, and then, I was so incredibly grateful, to the medical team at Cambridge’s Queen Veterinary School Hospital, for taking such care with Abu, for Abu to make it through the investigative procedures they performed, procedures I had long delayed over my great fear of the anaesthesia, but which the increasing frequency and severity of Abu’s night time cough finally made me go through with. I am so grateful to that team, as I’m sure it would’ve taken great care to improve Abu’s odds of surviving anaesthesia, given his diagnosis of mitral valve disease of the heart, and what was confirmed by these latest tests, to be his collapsing trachea, of both his upper and lower respiratory systems.
When Abu survived that procedure, that night, when we came home, I slept better than I had in so many months, after finally making it through this day I had dreaded for months, and of course also because the day had been emotionally and physically exhausting. I remember that the first two days after the procedure, I felt as though I had won the lottery, to still have my dog with me. I remember that on the third day however, it all that came crashing down, when I realised that a new journey had begun, the journey of trying to help Abu with treatment, to the best of my ability, and all the indecision that lay ahead regarding that.
In the three weeks that followed Abu’s bronchoscopy, his nightly cough was more frequent and severe than it had ever before been. The vet who had been in charge of the procedure had warned me that the procedure would aggravate Abu’s cough initially. But hearing Abu suffer so much, and not being sure how much of that was to do with the procedure or the way in which his condition is expected to worsen over time, it made for another horrible few weeks. One night, when up and comforting Abu again, in tears I promised him, that I would not make him suffer.
I am so grateful, that more recently, his cough has diminished, and he has been sleeping through the nights again. Something that, for a time, I had worried would never happen again. I am so grateful for this.
As things calmed with Abu, and after I was able to source and begin him on all the recommended medications for his conditions, I kept delaying trying to find out about mum. I was too scared. I had done so well at protecting myself, at helping myself to keep going, I had been so strong, in a cowardly way, that I did not want to find out, if my mum had passed away. I think I subconsciously decided, that I should postpone finding out till the new year.
Then, on Sunday, Abu barked, alerting me to someone at the door. It was one of my sisters, telling me that mum was downstairs, with my other sister, wanting to see me. I couldn’t believe it. Mum was still here! I went down to see her. Apparently, the reason I hadn’t been able to get through to her, was because she had been in hospital for a month, due to a chest infection. My sisters also told me that mum has heart failure. My mum was in her usual spirits though. Just like Abu has been, in spite of his diagnoses. It was surreal, to see her, to hear her spirit so unchanged. In fact, I felt I did not deserve my mum to still be here. After all, this means I had not been visiting her whilst she was in hospital, nor contacting her in the months following.
Whilst I had had my mobile off, I would daily, send an email to my big sister, so that she would know I was alive. I selfishly did not check incoming emails during this time, a habit she is aware of, but of course, one that she is understandably upset about. I know, that this one way communication is the height of selfishness. It has been a problem of mine for many years now: anxiety with checking incoming emails. During this time, when I had been sending these daily emails to my sister, she had been assuring my mum that I was well.
I am grateful that they came to see me. I know they were taking a risk, as it was possible I could have been out. And in fact, I had had my doorbell off, so they must have asked a neighbour to buzz them into the block. They could have easily just rung my doorbell, and, after finding no answer, just gone home, having lost time, from their busy days. Thank you to whichever neighbour did in fact buzz them into the block.
I have been so incredibly selfish. I just could not bear the thought of losing my mum.
In the earlier years of my depression, I had felt there was nothing to lose, and so I did not fear incoming communication in the way I do now. But bizarrely, as the depression has improved, it has become so that, I have started to think of all the years I’ve survived since the accident, and all the progress I’ve made, and I constantly worry that something will break me, and be too much for me to cope with, and so I have become ever more fearful of incoming communication. The other day, for example, I’m sure it was my neighbour that left a card outside my door, a Christmas card no doubt, and yet, I have still been too fearful to open it, as I worry she will complain about my poor communication, and other areas in which I haven’t been the perfect neighbour, for example, delivery people trying to make deliveries whilst I’m out walking Abu, and them ringing my neighbours’ doorbells and asking to be let into the block, and the way in which I check my door so many times whenever I leave the flat, out of OCD, that must be the most irritating noise my neighbour suffers, if it weren’t for the way I talk aloud with Abu continually, which she must hear and be annoyed by whenever Abu and I leave or return to the flat. She deserves a better neighbour. This is why I am nervous to open up her Christmas card. I feel sure there will be some criticism in it. Criticism I know I deserve to hear. But that I’m too scared to learn of. She has been a more tolerant neighbour than I could’ve ever asked for. She has suffered from mental health issues herself, and so again, it has not been fair of me, to expect her to deal with all the ways in which I know I repeatedly let her down. She has even been proactive in trying to help inform me when my communication issues have meant that I’ve not been up to date with the latest of what’s going on in our block. I always feel guilty, when bumping into her, because I know that I do not deserve the patience she has thus far shown me, and because I worry, that at some point, she will run out of that patience she has already so generously shown me. I must try to be a better neighbour to her, so I stop feeling all this guilt.
I’m sure the abuse I experienced when I tried working with a video production company in 2019 has not helped with my fear of communication. I have never before, or since, received as abusive communication or treatment as I received from the people working at or for that company, and the experience has left me scarred, both emotionally, and financially. In some ways, that bad experience, motivated me to get me back to editing my own videos, and so some good did come of it. But it was a traumatising experience, in the same way, but to a lesser extent, that the accident had been, and in the same way, but to a lesser extent, that attending LSE had been, and in the same way, but to a lesser extent, that I have only recently come to realise, that growing up in a home where I did not feel appreciated or loved, simply for being who I was, but in fact, instead, constantly made to feel a burden, even as a child, would’ve been.
But yes, I thought I should post an update, regarding my mum, given that I’ve written about that fear I’ve had about her health in recent posts. She is still here. I am grateful. And even though I have just now gone the longest I have ever done, of not communicating with her, out of fear she was no longer here, I just can’t imagine being strong enough to want to continue life without her. I think it would be the fact that I would have lost the one human in this world who has ever loved me – that would hurt too much.
And yet, the day before Abu’s bronchoscopy, I told him, in a moment of emotion, the words jumping out of my mouth before I had the chance to approve of them: “if you be strong for me, I’ll be strong for you”, and by that I meant: “if you survive the bronchoscopy, I will keep going, even if I have lost mum”. So I suppose, now that I’ve made that promise to Abu, I must keep it.
My mum’s health is far from great, but I’m grateful she’s here.
I hope I will finally ‘make it’ in 2024, so that I could take over caring for her, to ensure she has a carer with her at all times, to help her, given her mobility issues. I would ensure that my mum receives massages and treatments that might help her feel better. I would ensure she is given what help she needs to stay hygienically maintained at all times, in spite of her mobility issues. I wish I could rent a place that was big enough for mum, Abu, and I to stay in, so that, I could keep an eye on her diet, that I could ensure she is eating healthily. I have always hoped to help her lose weight, and I know that, even though she has heart failure now, that helping her lose weight, it would help her to have some quality of life for longer, and even help her with her mobility issues. If I could ‘make it’, it would mean I could even try to travel with her, to make some memories, without worrying about health insurance costs or restrictions. I know that this is all such grand dreaming. And yet, at the same time, I know that, had the accident not happened, all these things, they would have been more than easily achievable for me, and not just helping my mum, but my dad too, when he’d been here. Who knows, maybe I could’ve got him better treatment and he’d even still be here.
I am not speaking out of arrogance when I say that I know I would’ve been able to accomplish better care for my parents had my accident not happened. I worked incredibly hard, I was incredibly talented, and I cared incredibly strongly about wanting to do my best for my parents, so I know I would have got there, had there been no unexpected misfortunes, of the kind I ended up suffering, which led me to feel robbed of my identity, and so no longer capable of saving myself, let alone my parents.
When I take Abu out on walks, people stop us, because of Abu’s little face. He’s special. And the funny thing is, I know I’m special too, because of my musical gift. And I have failed to share either of those special things with the world. I haven’t shared Abu. I haven’t shared my music. I haven’t used all this magic I know I have inside me. I know I have an uncommon gift. I’m sure that gift has been pretty much destroyed to a fraction of what it had once been, because of the accident, and all the self-sabotage, or zombie-like, or distraught, guilt-ridden years that followed. I probably only have 5% of a gift, that should be at 500% of its initial size by now, had I continued to nourish it. But the fact remains, that I have this gift. I hope I can figure out how to share it in time, to save Abu and I, and to do more for my mum.
LYNA GALLIARA 