THE WARRIER QUEEN



Verdant Green Velvet Dotted with Glossy Black Cows


After the first course of chemo mum was predictably pretty unwell. She didn’t have any vomiting attacks, but despite advice to the contrary, her beautiful silver hair did start to fall out and her energy levels were pretty much zero. The best she could manage most days was to walk from the bed to her favourite chair in her sitting room and there collapse for the remainder of the day. It seemed that the first week was the worst, the second week only marginally better before heading back to hospital for the next treatment.

I was there each day to keep her company and to do whatever needed to be done. I was not very successful at trying to get her to eat anything much. Not until that is, I stopped off one morning on my way there and bought her some hot chips – that did do down well.

Mum was so valiant...............even tho’ she had pretty much no energy she persevered to the best of her ability. By the time we went back to see the Specialist prior to the second bout of chemo tho’, she had had enough. She asked the Dr what would happen if she discontinued the chemo - he told her she would have around 2 – 3 months best. Her response? “Oh, Hip Hip Hooray!” – She was serious. She was at that point in time seriously not going to continue with the treatment. I was in full agreement with this decision, although I couldn’t tell her that. I didn’t wish to influence her in any way. Sadly, the Dr then added, “The Lymphoma will return however, if you don’t continue on.” Poor old mum, her face just fell at that piece of news, and she then opted to continue the treatment, not being able to bear the thought of the lump returning.

Back to hospital she went for the second and the third treatments. It was just soooooo hard for her. I really had hoped she would choose not to have further treatment, as I felt her quality of life (in the short remaining term) would be so much better. I had thought to treat her with all sorts of little trips and treats to make the time special. I always felt it was doubtful she would survive the treatment.

The trips down to mum’s each morning were a bittersweet experience. During the winter months the Darling Range between Bullsbrook and Swan View are just gloriously verdant, rolling hills covered with lush emerald green velvet. All along the way the paddocks are dotted with glossy black cattle and beautifully elegant thoroughbred horses. I enjoyed those drives, as I enjoyed mostly, my time spent with Mum. We had a special connection thru’ those awful weeks. We talked more than we had probably talked all our lives, and for the first time ever, I really felt mum was interested in my life too. I spent a considerable amount of time reading her favourite poetry to her. We both love poetry, but to her it was so much more. It reflected the few happy times from her childhood, pretty much the only common ground she had with her own mother and memories from my childhood when she would read to me.We shared confidences, bad moments and good and really now in retrospect, I feel that those weeks which were so awful for her, were in a strange way, a great gift to me. Due to those weeks, my more difficult memories of mum are tempered by those later soft memories. I felt bad leaving her at the end of each day, but she was quite insistent I go. As I mentioned earlier, she loved the farm at Bullsbrook and she vowed that she was happy for me to go, as she wanted me to have that break and the beauty and peace that came with the farm, she also said that as I was driving home, she would imagine herself flying up the highway with me. I must make a confession here, on nice fine days with the sky blue above me and white clouds scudding across the sky, I would open the hatch on Zed, turn the old Rock ‘n Roll up strength ten, plant the foot firmly on the pedal and just about ‘fly’ up that highway. Sad as I was for mum, I really did relish that feeling of freedom as I headed home each afternoon. Naughty girl I know!

Mum’s courage was amazing. She was having such a hard time of it. Her poor old head was almost bald, just a few wispy bits of white fluff left, what little bit of body fat she had disappeared and she literally shrunk before my eyes. She still managed to find things to laugh about tho’ and I loved making her laugh. Although she didn’t try to hide from me how hard it was, there were a few times when she thought I wasn’t looking and she let her guard down and I saw more clearly how much it was taking out of her. One particularly poignant afternoon which is emblazoned on my memory forever, as I was leaving, she thought I had gone and I peeked back thru’ the front door as I was going. She sat there looking so small, frail and dejected and so very, very alone. I know that mum’s lifestyle was her own choice and that she was on her own due to her own selection, but it was still heart wrenching to see her like that. Particularly considering what a ferocious person she had previously been.

During this time, I had mentioned to Mum that I had no idea how we would cope if I became ill. Some sort of intuitive thing I suppose. Because of this fear, I agreed to have a ‘flu shot’ – something I have always maintained I didn’t need or wish to do. Hmm, goes to show, deep down we all know what is best for us.

By now, sadly, Brett had temporarily parted company from Nom and was staying with us at the farm (100k round trip for him each day in his little ‘Muzz Buzz’) and due largely to being the dad of toddlers and also his frequent flying around this country, he seemed to have a perennial cough. After a couple of weeks I too started to cough. I ignored it. Still ignoring the cough, I reluctantly had a flu shot. Within the week, my cough was considerably worse. By the time mum came out of hospital after her third bout of chemo I was very unwell. This posed a double problem – not only was I pretty crook in myself, but as mum due to the chemo had no immunity, I could go nowhere near her. I worsened, but believed that as in most bugs, I would be fine after a couple of days, kept promising poor Mum that I would most likely be there ‘tomorrow’. Folks, I cannot remember a worse virus. I have never in my life coughed up so much gunk. And It Went On....and On........and On. I spoke with mum twice every day on the phone, and I send DD down a couple of times too. Someone needed to help her, to do what little bit of shopping she needed doing, to wash her dishes, feed the beast, and generally tidy up for her. I felt so bad not being able to see her and help her, but I certainly could go nowhere near her. That virus (now known, in Perth at least, as the 40 day flu) would have been the last straw for mum. She would have ended up with pneumonia at the very least. The whole situation was terrible.

In the middle of all of this Naomi also ended back in hospital with more of the same bowel problems she had experienced previously. The less said about the reasons why the better I guess. In the middle of me being super ill, she asked us to go and mind the children so she could go to hospital – she was not happy to get my negative response. Once again, I had no choice – but that is a long story and one for another time.