Resilience

Power of the Mind

90 years of Mops

My Mum is 90 this week.  We were surprised and delighted that she reached 80; 90 is a miracle. Truly.  We have twice been called to her bedside in hospital and told by consultants that she will not survive; to prepare ourselves. The most recent incident in August 2023, we believed she was a gonner. Barely conscious, she was hospitalised with an unspecified infection, which turned out to be sepsis. Quite apart from that, Mum is disabled, has osteoporosis, osteoarthritis, heart failure,thyroidectomy, issues swallowing, eyesight problems, dementia and various other health issues.  When she was admitted, she weighed a little over 5 stone and was malnourished.

The consultant was very concerned. Her infection markers (CRP levels) were near 180 (50 signifies an infection) and the antibiotics she’d been given didn’t appear to be having much impact. All she did was sleep and we thought she might simply die whilst she did so. The consultant who was looking after her was keen to explain how ill she was and that there was very little they could do if she didn’t respond.

‘She’s very weak, very old. Exhausted’ He said.

He talked about the possibility of withdrawing treatment.  Thankfully, however, he persevered, trying combinations of different drugs until her numbers started to come down. We had hope we might get her home to die at least.

Doreen is a fighter, even in her weakened state of mind and body,she was keen to get out of hospital. She’s spent so much of her life having surgery and treatment that she has an aversion to being hospitalised. She wanted to go home and so she fought.  All credit to the consultant for being determined. Mum was equally determined.  The consultant could not believe that her numbers were going down and that she was pulling round. Her CRP count hit 80 and everyone breathed a sigh of relief. She started eating a small amount, she was able to have a conversation. Suddenly they were making arrangements for palliative care at home. Hooray! We would all get our wish. Mum was going home to die, at least.  Except she wasn’t planning on checking out on life, only the hospital.  Once she was home, she improved exponentially. She began on puréed food and then moved onto solid food; she started moving her arms and legs and being able to sit up and support her weight. There was no physio or OT input, but with my sister’s direction, Mum did some exercises and eventually, all on her own one night, got out of bed to use the loo. She hated not being able to use the toilet, so this was obviously her first priority.  When the physio did finally arrived, due to the fact that Mum showed no inclination to die, they could not believe that someone who had been in bed for 10 weeks was able to walk. All the more miraculous, given the fact that Mum is a wheelchair user!

So, 7 months on, Mum has proved once again that she is not quite yet ready to leave us. She is a much healthier 7 stone, uses a frame to get about and a wheelchair when out. Her dementia has improved, to the extent that I can speak on the phone with her again. For the best part of a year previously, she was unable to pick up the phone herself, or hold much of a conversation. Her quality of life has improved immeasurably in large part down to my sister’s dogged care and no small part Mum’s determination.

Doreen is a war child and was bought up by a Mother who was unable to cope. She developed a resilient streak when she was very young. She cared for her younger brothers and when her sister came along, she was the one who realised she was unable to see.  She lived through the drowning of her youngest brother and the split up of her family. At 12 she was adopted.  Although she was clearly loved, it was still a hard life. By no means poor, many food stuffs were still in short supply and there was a lack of luxuries.  A talented artist, with place offered at Chelsea art school, Doreen was forced to go to work and earn money to bring into the household. She left school at 14 and although she could read and write and do basic arithmetic, her written language wasn’t the best.  Her work ethic was impeachable and she worked in offices first at Firestone’s - travelling up to the company’s Pimlico offices by management request - and later at the famous Hawker Siddeley offices, as punch card operator which, back then, was a prestigious job.

Her adopted parents refused to let her marry our Dad, so she had to wait until she was 21.  There was animosity from his Catholic family who boycotted the Anglican wedding. Not a terribly auspicious start. Women in the 50’s got married and then had a family, but I didn’t come along for some time and due to the complications, my parents were advised not to try for another baby.  My sister came along 3 and a half years later.  The delivery was fine, but Doreen suffered fibroids, a prolapse womb and a host of other maladies and then was diagnosed with a hyperactive thyroid, which was eventually removed. She also had an early hysterectomy and surgery on her eyes.  Her medical history alone, would fill volumes.

Reading between the lines, this all had an impact on her mental health, unsurprisingly,  but those sorts of subjects were definitely taboo in the 60’s and 70’s and no help was forthcoming.  As in her early life, Doreen simply battled on, becoming well enough to return home and look after the home and the family. She returned to work part time as a home help - what would now be a combination of carer and support worker. She was well regarded and went more than the extra mile for people who needed help.  She got on well with her boss and they kept in touch for decades after both had left their respective roles.  Despite her poor written English, Doreen was asked to write for the in-house magazine and had several articles published.  Her spelling might not have been perfect, but she could certainly tell a story.

Ill health has plagued Doreen’s whole life and as a direct result her self-esteem has suffered. She has rarely thought herself worthy of love and attention and always thought of others above herself: thoughtful, caring and empathetic, despite the lack of love and care in her own life.  An avid letter writer, she kept relationships going through missives for many decades and later kept in touch by telephone, regularly ringing people to check how they were doing. She has also been ‘Mum’ and confidante to many younger people who responded to her warmth, care and humour.

Doreen learnt to swim at 60. She took lessons at a local pool and although she was always scared of water (she saw her younger brother drown) she became a proficient swimmer, albeit one that wouldn’t stick her head in the water.  At 80 she went to a class to learn to crochet, so that she could crochet flowers for my wedding.  She’s always thought herself without talent, yet her sewing, knitting and art were all of a professional standard.

Our Mum, Doreen, likes a good laugh and one of her mantras has been to find something to smile about each day.  Dementia might have stolen a lot from her, but somehow she still manages to find things to smile about. It’s not as frequent, sadly, but it still makes an appearance and she still thinks it’s better to laugh rather than  cry. I have no idea how she does it, with all that she’s been through and all that she’s lost.

Even with Dementia stealing her slowly away, her level of resilience and determination is remarkable. The fight seems to be hard-wired in her DNA and even a brain wasting disease can’t take it from her. If I were whittled down by illness of both mind and body, I’m not sure what would be left at the core of me.

My Mum is one of the strongest people I know. Her middle name is Joyce, but really it’s resilience with a capital ‘R’. I hope something has chipped off the old block and I can be a quarter as hardy as she is.

We might only have our lovely Mum for a few months, a year, who  knows. Despite the miracle she is, she won’t defeat death forever, but we’re pretty stoked she’s made it this far. Happy 90th to a beautiful human I’m over the moon to call Mum.

With heartfelt consideration for all who have lost their Mum’s.