It's all a blur

Published: May 2017

Mum’s diagnosis came rapidly and completely unexpected.

We knew something was wrong when Mum was losing her bag whilst on public transport, getting lost in areas that she had known for years. It was very alarming to me, her community at Church, and her case manager. So, with our concerns in hand, we fronted up for an early morning outpatients meeting at Concord hospital in Sydney.

After much testing by the doctor in the outpatients department, it was decided that we needed to see a neurologist, that day. Looking back, it’s all a blur because Mum’s progression with motor neurone disease was so fast.

Within a month after diagnosis she was placed into a home. Three months after diagnosis Mum lost the ability to speak. Three to six months after that, she had problems with sleeping and was prescribed antidepressants. She was unable to walk.

Every time I tried to get to the nursing home, it would seem another fail and another physical action that we take for granted as humans was lost or inoperable.

I tried to provide a cheery demeanour by talking to mum in a happy and gentle way and holding her hands and shaking them up and down for her to know who I was and feeding in the home. It was one last ditch hope at communicating with my mother when traditional methods like writing had failed her.

She turned 60 in September and by December she passed away. When she died, there was a loss not only for her physical self but all the adventures that mum wanted to have. and a couple I know that she would have enjoyed that overseas cruise around the Pacific like the one my aunt is doing in the next month. I could tell that she hated the disease every day and the disease took that away from her.