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Dealing with Dying. Nobody said it was easy. 29, May 2007

Posted by babychaos in Life and living.
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9 comments

You’ll remember some time back, I spoke of a lady, redoubtable and feisty, very strong charactered and sometimes a little tricky to deal with, who has been suffering from cancer.

She died yesterday morning. I have been in quite close contact with her family, one of her children sends regular e-mails about her progress to a bunch of us and we remember her in our prayers – not that I’m sure my prayers do much good. It is amazing how these things work themselves out though.

I have been meaning to write to her for some time but every time I started the letter I didn’t know how to go on, what do you say to somebody who is dying but unwilling to accept the situation?

This, on top of the fact she lives 500 miles away, was one of the reasons I didn’t go to see her. What to talk about if mention of her illness is taboo? Mention it and I would be asked to leave, I was told. The usual sympathetic or valedictory phrases cannot be countenanced or used… the lady was sure she was going to beat this thing, heaven knows, if anyone could, it was her but I could see myself rolling up, saying “How are you?” and it going downhill swiftly from there.

She had known she was ill for four years and appears to have hoped that prayer, alone, would cure her. As I understand it, she went to the doctor when she suspected her illness was spreading but was merely given anti-depressants. I doubt that disposed her to seek medical treatment again.

That said, she was a lady of tremendous faith and may well have felt that if her faith was strong enough she would be healed. Instead it came to the point where her illness could not be disguised and she had to seek palliative treatment. I guess the nub of the matter is that no amount of faith will cure you if ain’t god’s will. As Bill was saying on his blog the other day, sometimes the art of praying is to find out what you should be asking for… it’s not always the things you think…

The action she took was her choice, of course. I know that in the first instance some members of her family were hurt by her decision but I am sure she did what she did because she believed it would save them heartache. A terminal illness is a big thing to carry alone for four years, I don’t think you’d take a decision like that lightly. I don’t think you could do a thing like that out of fear. It would have to be love, to protect your family from pain.

As I understand it she eventually accepted that this was her time and went willingly and calmly into the arms of her maker. I am very glad of this, I was a bit worried the good lord would drag her kicking and screaming from this earth! I don’t mean that in a disrespectful or bad way but I can imagine dying was inconvenient – she was in her 60s, which is not that old in the relative scheme of things and in her view there were a lot of things she still wanted to achieve. There was unfinished business and letting it go, leaving it there, must have rankled.

Devout, good, holy people are often difficult. This lady was no exception. As I said before, she meant well and personally I have a great deal of respect for her. I also have sympathy since I know she suffered and did so with bravery and stoicism. But in anything more than the for-your-fellow-man sense I’m not 100% sure I loved her. If I’m honest, I’m not sure I even liked her sometimes, though I could always appreciate that her intentions were good and every now and again there would be flashes of great kindness and sympathy.

So for example, she and her husband wrote me a very sweet letter when I had my miscarriage, something I appreciated very much. Conversely, she was also known for her belief that all women should have children and had a tendency to say this, loudly and forcefully, to absolutely the wrong people – people who’d just failed repeated bouts of IVF, for example. The note, though, was one of the reasons why I thought about paying her a visit. That and the behaviour of her daughter, who lived near me and who stood by me through the process of having a miscarriage when Mr BC was away on business. She came with me to all the scans, helped me, advised me and generally mothered me. It was crap enough as it was but without her kindness and help it would have been an utterly desolate experience. I will owe her for ever.

I have been thinking about this lady a lot since the news of her illness reached me but about three weeks ago I suddenly found I couldn’t go to sleep at night without worrying about the fact I hadn’t taken any action. I had not visited this lady or even contacted her since she became ill – although I have been in contact with her children – how would she know that she was in my thoughts if I didn’t at least write and tell her? So I decided I should write that letter.

Not a valedictory it’s been great knowing you one – actually, I think you can only do that in conversation – but a positive one, concentrating on the improvements in her condition, looking to events in the near future which she was likely to be around for, discussing the benefits of being at home rather than in hospital – and chatting about stuff I’d been getting up to.

So I wrote and immediately, a great weight of worry lifted from my shoulders! The day I posted it, I received an e-mail update from her son saying she was back in hospital with breathing difficulties and fluid on her lungs. She came out again on Friday, spent the weekend at home, was re-admitted to hospital at around 3 o’clock on Monday morning and died at quarter to seven.

Seeing her would have been a bad idea – I’m glad I didn’t go – but I’m so glad I wrote that letter and so glad she got it.

I have no idea if she enjoyed it. * My father spoke to her husband and said he had the impression it was very difficult to read. Since it was typed – I am famed for my crappy handwriting – the difficulties in question must have been down to what I said rather then whether it was legible. I am assuming that it was full of the kind of stuff that made him feel awkward reading it out to her or which was too light hearted (they’re not ones for levity this lot) or generally infra dig in some way – they do tend to think an awful lot of things are infra-dig. The important thing, though, was that one of her daughters was there at the time and the fact that I had written meant something to her, enough for her to write to thank me.

* Actually, as of today, I do. My father told me yesterday evening that the difficulty in reading it was because they were touched. BC 30 May, 2007

One of the hardest things about this death, I think, is not feeling particularly sorry. On the whole this is for the right reasons; partly because she had a strong faith so it was a good death, calm, peaceful et al, partly because life wasn’t much fun for her, she was blind, partially paralysed and in a great deal of pain so her death must have come as a release, but also, I fear, because she wasn’t always very tactful – so in many ways her absence will simplify life for those of us who are left. Although of course, I suspect we will miss the complications…

On the other hand, her family are splendid people and they were able to love her warts and all. They are not idiots, they know how difficult she was, they know many people will not mourn her departure in the traditional sense of the word and that must be hard for them.

So it’s interesting how love works. When it came to sympathy and love from outsiders like me, I know my love for this lady, herself, undoubtedly falls short and I suspect I am not the only one.

However, my love for those around her does not. I find myself looking at her in a new light because no matter how difficult she could be, she was mother to these splendid people, she moulded them into who they are and she and her husband must have done something pretty special for her children to turn out the way they did.

To me, this unspoken admission from everyone that she was difficult but that she meant well and was loved is moving and rather extraordinary. It reassures me to think that if you act with love, then, even if you’re a bit prickly, it will come back to you somehow, however indirectly, from somewhere, in the end.

I guess it’s bit like an indirect free kick, only not.

May she rest in peace.

10 Songs to Cheer up to… except there are 15 of them… 16, March 2007

Posted by babychaos in Adult Content, General Wittering, Grumpy Old Bag, Life and living.
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19 comments

Ok, so counting has never been my strong point! Here is my top “ten” list of songs to play when you feel blue… Any blue people out there? Well… Doctor BabyChaos prescribes these fifteen smashing songs to help you through. I hope they help you along as much as they do me. This is a light hearted look at being sad so, if that’s likely to offend you, look away until my next post.

Stage One: Wallowing in it.
If you’re down and you want to cry some more then go ahead. When human beings get sad our eyes leak. It’s nature, it’s what we do. It’s the pressure valve and it makes us feel better. Alternatively, if you are the bottling type or have been snivelling for quite long enough you may want to beat back the tears and if that’s the case a good dose of singing bitterly and angrily may help. Try these…

Say Hello, Wave Goodbye – Soft Cell: Sing along with bitter angst (and in tune). Make sure you get the original late 80s (or was it early 90s) recording. The subsequent one is a much better performance but it’s lost the raw power of its predecessor. Mr Almond is hurting and angry in the original version and if you are too, it’s great to join in.

Stong – Robbie Williams: Are you normally a jolly soul? Do people think you’re going to top yourself if you stop smiling for more than 30 seconds? Yeh, well if you’re one of those and you just want to take a bit of time out feel a bit crap about something this is a great song. “Not so tough now are we? No?” Yeh, well who gives a smeg? It’s allowed.

The Tracks of My Tears – Smoky Robinson: Another one for the down clown. Get into it, screw up your eyes, give it your soul… you’ll feel better if only because you know you’re looking a bit odd and imagining how it looks makes you laugh.

Help Me – Johnny Cash: A soulful, desperate, heart rending prayer from a man in dire need. When your back’s against the wall and you’ve nowhere else to turn, play this and realise you are not alone. People have been there before you. Namely Johnny Cash, ill and in pain and mourning the death of his wife. Utterly honest and straight from the heart, if this one doesn’t give you goosebumps you do not have a soul. You will be really wailing into your soup but by heaven you’ll feel better afterwards.

Stage Two: Reassurance
Ok so once you’ve done the crying, wrung out your handkerchief and you’re ready to go on you may need to hear some songs that tell you everything is going to be ok.

Stop Crying Your Heart Out – Oasis: When I lost my job I played this over and over as I drove home. I did cry my heart out… for the whole two hour journey but blimey I felt better by the time I’d finished.

Electrical Storm – U2: A good one to play if you are in the midst of the storm and not sure what the outcome will be. You know you have to sort yourself out but you may not know how or what to do for the best. Don’t worry, you are not cracking up, you are merely being human. I’d lay bets that everyone with a problem thinks themselves round in circles, usually when the result is dependent on somebody else’s decision or if they know the answer but doing it is asking too much of them at that time. Don’t worry you will work it through in the end, stop thinking about it and play this, it sums up the atmosphere perfectly.

Golden Slumbers/Carry That Weight/The End – The Beatles: Another people-have-been-there-before-you track. You are going to have to take the crap but you’ll get through to the funky bit, I promise and so does Paul. Listen to him! He’s hurting but he knows he’s going to make it. So are you.

The Light of Day – the Divine Comedy: The kind of thing your parents tell you when you break up from your first love affair. Unfortunately, for all that, the message is no less true.

“I feel shit now, but I know in the end I’ll be ok.” It says.

You may not believe this if you’ve just been jilted for the first time but trust me, you will get through. You will look back and – although you may not laugh like they said – you will smile and yes, everything will be ok. I’m sorry but I’m afraid in this instance your parents are right. Don’t worry about how strong you are, either, you’re tougher than you know.

Always the Sun – The Stranglers: Once again, you need to look out for the original version from the album Dream Time not the subsequent versions. The message? Things look a bit crap but they’ll be ok in the end.

Stage Three: Acceptance – I don’t want to go back but I’m not quite over it.
Once you’ve listened to Doctor BC’s magic songs for long enough, the light may dawn. You may begin to realise that it’s going to work out. That said, you probably still wish you could just fast forward through this bit to the point where you are completely over it, absorbing any useful lessons as you go.

Too Young to Die – The Divine Comedy: The weary acceptance that you need to develop, that change is good because it helps you to do that, even when it is painful. The other song I played when I lost my job. It may be about changing your life, yourself but it’s just as handy to listen to if some annoying bastard has come along and changed it for you.

The Waiting – Tom Petty: Waiting is the hardest part. Waiting not to feel crap, waiting to get on with life again. Sometimes you feel like you’re struggling and getting nowhere. Stop struggling is probably the answer.

There is NO Stage Four: You can zone out at any point in the process.
When you want something to take you away and make you forget life is happening.

Comfortably Numb – Pink Floyd: Pink Floyd are knocking on. Youngsters, they may all look l like your dad – or possibly your granddad – but they are responsible for the perfect song to zone to – possibly one of the most beautiful pop melodies of all time. The words are about detachment from reality and describe the feeling extremely well, so well that it’s easy to detach for a while if you listen. The melody is extraordinarily uplifting – truly incredible. This got me through the first really crap time in my life – being bullied at school – and yet with all those connotations I still love the song. Very little else comes close.

Strung Out – Veldt: Similar deal, just switch off, zone out and enjoy. Great to play if you decide to alleviate your negative feelings by going for a drive. It’s the perfect music to watch streets, traffic and pedestrians slide past to.

Stage Five: Wahoo! I made it.
The moment when you suddenly realise that life is a bit fine and dandy again. You may be feeling amazed and perhaps, even, a bit smug that, gargantuan waves and all, the storms have failed to sink you.

I’ve Been This Way Before – Neil Diamond: This is from the album Serenade (I think) in 1975 so he’s beginning to lose the connection his early stuff has. It’s very slick, which makes it difficult to align with what he’s saying even though it is straight from the heart. BUT it’s still a cracking song and it does capture the. “Blimey! Did I survive that?” Moment well. It’s also at a point where he’s still Gospel influenced so there’s some nice keyboard work in there. Oh yes, and not forgetting that, spangly shirts and dodgy hair, aside, the man has a voice which, frankly, should come with a public health warning. A little sugar for the ladies, perhaps. Mmm Mmm!

Through the Dark – K T Tunstall: The last and best track on the album Eye to the Telescope. About coming to terms with where life has put you even if you thought, no believed, you were going to be somewhere else at this point. Accepting that no matter how strongly you believe you are making your own destiny, you’re not always calling the shots. It’s not what happens that counts, it’s how you react. You can’t control other people’s actions but you can control your own. You get the picture, I’m sure.

I Won’t Back Down – Johnny Cash: Because I fucking won’t and – clearly – he wasn’t going to, either! The original Tom Petty version is good but this is top-level, nobody-dicks-with-me stuff. A real pished weedgie rant of a song.

“D’you want some more?” It’s shouting as it reels drunkenly across Sauchiehall Street with a can of extra strong lager in one hand and the other on its crotch, struggling with it’s flies as it attempts to get it’s willy out so it can take a whizz on your shoes. “Do you? Do you? Bring it on!”

I hope you enjoyed my choice of tunes and that my choice of language hasn’t been too fruity.

The Embarrassment Gnomes Strike, the Beatles make BC happy and still she winges! 15, March 2007

Posted by babychaos in Adult Content, General Wittering, Grumpy Old Bag, Life and living, Light Fluff, Play, whinging.
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6 comments

Ok it’s not a great title but you get my drift. Last night, in the kitchen, with “the End” by the Beatles – the really and I mean REALLY funky bit at the end of Abbey Rod playing er… quite loudly I was laying up the trays for supper. We usually eat in front of the TV off trays, slobby but hey…

So there I am strutting about the kitchen Mick Jagger style (only it doesn’t look cool, rock ‘ard or even human when I do it it looks like I imagine the dog that plays the piano out of the Muppets would if he took an acid tab). As I’m rootling about in the draws, bum waggling and head nodding like Ralph the Dog (as previously described). I look up and there’s Mr BC. I dunno how long he’d been there, probably far too long because he was grinning.

You know those moments when you are doing something really fun but also really stupid. The kind of things you do on your own but would never want anyone to see? Er… maybe you don’t but my personality has this kind of life of its own which I am often unable to subsume… I suspect it’s because if I actually got embarrassed the way normal people do I just wouldn’t get out of bed in the morning.

Anyway, this was definitely a private do this alone and never be seen by anyone or you’ll have to kill them moment so I was swiftly attacked by the embarrassment gnomes and went into shy lady mode… He’s still taking the piss out of me about it this morning!

Then again, yet another of my friends is pregnant, once again throwing into stark relief the fact that I am very much not and that just like every single sodding month since we’ve been trying my er… go-days… this month, according to the Wee Sticks of Enlightenment are on days when there is just no hope of any action.

Tonight – massive wine tasting, Mr BC will be hammered and therefore accompanied by Snow White’s well known diminutive friends Sleepy and Droopy. So, no chance today – or tomorrow – massive dinner party, Mr BC and I will BOTH be a bit merry and sleeping over at some mates’ house with thin bedroom walls so no chance there either. And this seems to happen every month because most months, the week people tend to organise things is the week in the middle which is the BC fertility zone. Fucking sod it! (sorry non-swearers).

Anyway… getting to the point, I promise – what promoted the repeated playing of “The End” along with “Golden Slumbers” and more importantly “Carry that Weight” is because they are sung by what is clearly a raw and hurting Paul McCartney and when I’m raw and hurting they make me feel better – I do play them when I’m not sad, too because whatever mood one is in they are excellent lift-me-up material. But it was almost prescient that there should be a post on Chrisfiore’s blog which featured this music on the morning of the day I found this out. So I was already prepared and already listening to one of my favourite belt-up-BC tracks when I heard the news which though happy and good made me feel so sad…

Chrisfiore, I thank you.

Oh I’m delighted for her, don’t get me wrong but still empty and down and low and just pissed off for me… and of course, that makes me feel bitter and twisted and evil. Yes, sod the dwarves, I’m the Evil Step Mother!

“Hello, thank you for talking to BC, I’m afraid her generosity of spirit is completely absent right now… please leave a message after the beep or hold for the wrong kind of attention.”

Oh! Arse! And tonight, and tomorrow, I’m going to be hanging out with her and another pregnant friend, too (nose braced for upcoming rubbing in it two nights running) and I’ve got to be generous and happy for them and nice about it when I’m actually feeling slightly less kindly disposed to other humans right now, let alone a brace of pregnant ones, than Snow White’s Step Mum was to Snow White.

Oh sod! I will NOT be a miserable bag about this! I refuse.

Oh well, I have so much work I’m bloody drowning… perhaps I should stop winging, get off my arse and do some of that! It will make me feel more in control of my life and myself and therefore, better!

I’m not sure any of us have control of our lives but we do control the way we react although, that’s the most difficult bit…

So now I’ve dumped this here and I’ll have a quick dose of Abbey Road… perhaps with a little Comfortably Numb and a dash of I’ve Been This Way Before… The angst, the detachment, the jaw-droppingly fabulous VOICE. Mmm… a potent combo! That should do it. Yep and if it doesn’t… then I’ll think about how much I love my husband and how happy I am to have him whether or not we have kids and how I didn’t care whether I had any before the miscarriage and if it still doesn’t work I’ll get my iPod and Abbey Road and go cruising in the sun with the lid off in my car… and THEN get back to work. ;-)

I should point out you are meant to laugh if you find the writing funny. The way I defuse the world, my emotions and er… pretty much everything really, is by turning it into a joke. Funny is not scary so funny is easier.

Hey ho… (or should that be Heigh Ho)? Pipple toot!

More love… 5, March 2007

Posted by babychaos in General Wittering, Miscarriage.
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8 comments

A month or two back, Mr BC and I went to a wine tasting. I went to queue for cheese and bread at the end while Mr BC being a bit less of a gannet, or possibly a bit smarter than I am, decided to wait. When I returned with cheese for two he told me he’d been watching the queue and noticed one woman immediately. “Coo” He thought. “She looks nice, I hope she turns round so I can get a look at her face.” When she did, he discovered that the tasty looking lady was none other than his wife. Although he described this as a disappointment he was clearly quite chuffed or he wouldn’t have gone to the effort of telling me.

I was feeling very low today.  But going into my feed, I found that one of the bloggers I like to read regularly had posted a clip of Pink Floyd performing “Comfortably Numb”.

Pink Floyd are one of my three favourite groups of all time.  Alternating with the Beatles and bits of Mr Spangly (12 Songs and anything up to about 1970).

Comfortably Numb is one of my favourite songs a desert island disk.  Comfortably Numb got me through being bullied at school, the words describe dislocation from reality and they take you with them, for a little 3 minute break from REAL LIFE – the melody is uplifting and makes me think of looking forward and of hope.  So this morning, when I am supremely hormonally challenged and need somebody to say, “It’ll be ok” up pops the perfect song.  I listen to it and before I know it I am flying… I’m a bit sad still but it’s only hormones and although, before I told myself it would pass, now I know!  The sensible part of my brain has regained control and I feel calm.  Mmm… might have to go listen again.

Here’s the link.  Enjoy

Click me 

Not in the mood… 8, December 2006

Posted by babychaos in Heavy Flow, Miscarriage.
Tags: , , , ,
10 comments

I’m not in the mood for Christmas. When I was a kid it was great, full of excitement and fun. All it means now is guilt. Guilt that I’m not with my Mum and Dad or guilt that we’re not with Mr BC’s. It’s not that the day, itself, isn’t fun just that the guilt and the worry are the overriding things. Guilt that there might be a family member we haven’t sent a card to, visitied or contacted. It’s one long drag of worrying about other people’s feelings. Have we anticipated them, have we done it right, have we hurt them?

We go to one set of parents or the other and fit in with their routine or sometimes they come to us in which case we have to re-create their routine here. I don’t want to get it wrong, I want them to enjoy it, so although bits are fun I find my overriding emotion is stress. It’s selfish and mean to want a year where we get to do it our own way, with our own routine and in our own home but I do. We’re supposed to get a kick out of making other people feel good. Looking out for others is what Christmas is all about. In reality it just makes me weary and worried and I’m glad when it’s all over.

This year, we were up for our first guilt-free Christmas. We would be spending it in our own home, with a new baby. We had an excuse to make it our own. But there is no new baby and Christmas is the way it always was. And there’s no new baby. So it’s harder. And I keep crying, quietly behind the scenes. Yet another thing to hide behind my veneer of good cheer because I don’t want Christmas to be the same time of guilt and worry for other people that it is for me and if they know I’m sad it will be.

Maudlin, aren’t I? But this is a blog and this is what blogs are for. I dump this stuff here where it can’t do any harm, where it might make somebody else in the same boat feel less alone and a bit more normal and human. And I get on with being jolly BC who’s always fun and makes lots of jokes and is great with kids and never sad.

Here are some great words, they’re not great poetry and they’re actually about Love but they do the trick, written by the Man Himself, Mr Neil Hannon – or the Divine Comedy as he is also known.

“I found a photograph of you and me
Drinking sangria somewhere by the sea
There’s laughter in our eyes and dreams in our hearts
Before life waded in and tore it all apart

But when there’s no more lies to hide behind
And no more tears to cry. I know we’ll be all right.
For
Even though the skies are dark and cold and grey
I’m sure tomorrow we will see the light of day.

I found some letters from a happier time
I smelt the scented pages and re-read the lines
Why must the summer always turn into the Fall
Why must we lose love to ever know love at all….

When there’s no more lies to hide behind
And no more tears to cry. I know I’ll be all right.
For even though the skies above and cold and grey
I’m sure tomorrow we will see the light of day.

The light of day…. shining through our window pane.

But when there’s no more light to hide behind
And no more tears to cry. I know we’ll be all right.
For even though the skies above are cold and grey
I’m sure tomorrow we will see the light of day.

The light of day…. shining through our window pane.”

Ah yes. Thank you Mr Hannon. That’s my philosophy exactly. I know I’ll be all right I just have to wade through this bit to get from there to here.

Onwards and upwards eh?

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