Something to remember

When you're four you need your mum more than anybody; when you're 14 you're too cool to talk to your mum; when you're 24 you're too busy partying or travelling to call your mum; and when you're 34, you need your mum more than you ever thought.

Eleven years ago, my mum was diagnosed with breast cancer. Five years later, after radiation, chemotherapy and eostrogen-supressing drugs, it returned to her breast and lymph glands. Cue surgery, more chemo and more drugs. Another five years later -- last August -- it returned again, but this time it had spread to her bones in her pelvis and spine. Stage IV terminal cancer.

It's the phone call you never want to hear, particularly when you're living overseas. It's hard to put into words how devastating this has been for our family, particularly as mum is still only in her early sixties. These are important years for my mum and for our growing family. When we heard the diagnosis last August, I was living in Singapore, my middle sister was half way through her first pregnancy and my youngest sister was planning her wedding. One month later and three days after her first round of chemo, my sister got married. Five months later, my mum held her first grandchild. Almost ten months later, and she's still fighting hard. It goes without saying, she's the toughest person I know.

I have been unsure whether to talk about this on my blog, but it is such a big part of my life that it has felt strange not to acknowledge it. I pride myself on my optimism, but I have to admit, it's been a tough year. When I'm not gallivanting around Asia or throwing sarcastic jibes at celebrities on my blog, I have been travelling back and forth to Australia. It's been exhausting and emotional and it's played havoc with my career and my absence has been very tough on my husband. But it's also been very rewarding. In many ways I feel lucky to have spent such special time with my mum and family. It's time that I may not otherwise have spent with them. It's given me a huge dose of perspective.

This morning, I read an interesting article on the New York Times (you can read it here) about what to say to someone who's sick, written (helpfully) by someone who was sick. Although I can't speak for my mum about whether she agrees with the author's thoughts, one point did stick with me.

"One surefire tip: a slight change of topic goes a long way. Patients are often sick of talking about their illness. We have to do that with our doctors, nurses and insurance henchmen. By all means, follow the lead of the individual, but sometimes ignoring the elephant in the room is just the right medicine."

So in the interests of embracing the elephant in the room and promptly ignoring it, I'd like to post every so often some of the conversations I have with my mum: her favourite recipes (she's an amazing cook), tidbits of info, wisdom, tips. Nothing maudlin and depressing, just things I think are worth sharing and which I want to remember. And don't fear. I inherited my critical voice from somewhere. Just this afternoon she told me "That Angelina is a hussy". I am proudly my mother's daughter.