That was what I sat down for until I realised that I if I couldn't write every day or so then I probably would go mad.
I've had a weekend of meltdowns, large and small, due to mother emergencies, real and imagined.
How glad I am that I come home to the sounds of silence. No cat/dog/kid whinging to be fed. No husband/partner demanding clean underwear and cold beer. No friends wanting to know what I'm doing for Christmas. Just my little sanctuary of nothingness which is staying that way forever.
I am on the brink, ready to fall over the cliff, checking out what's left of my brain. One more phone call from the old bat and my sanity will snap.
I haven't written much about her lately because I know there are people in cyberland who actually like their mothers and would be very upset if they were to fall off the twig or who have mothers who've already gone.
Political correctness only goes so far though.
The doctor is coming tomorrow so I have to try and waylay him before he comes into the house.
Tell him to just look at the cancer lesion on her face, feel the suspicious lump in her right leg, tell him about the dizziness that we suspect is her potassium/sodium levels fluctuating but most of all tell him not to engage in any dialogue with crazylady.
All I want him to do, is listen to what's coming out of her brain but that might not work. She has the uncanny ability to pull her remaining brain cells together for half an hour to come across as normal. After all, he's only coming for a social visit as she's not really sick. This from a woman who thinks the cat is the dog that's been dead for 6 years and when I corrected her, said there wasn't much difference between the two.
She's already rung three times today for me to go over and clean up and dust for the visit. She doesn't want him to think she can't look after herself. I expect another call about 7.30 when she realises she's left the TV guide somewhere and needs to know what's on tonight.
Last week I was accused of trying to kill her with morphine. My sister tried to bump her off by cooking fresh food. My nephew tried to do her in by staying out late. Whatever we do, she wants the opposite.
This is not a dramatic weight loss, skin and bone type of cancer. It's a slow decline in all physical and mental capacities, and it's also killing us. It's like living with an emotional vampire so if I don't blog for a while just put it down to having my brain matter sucked out of my ears.