Mum's The Burd

Today’s post is a slight deviation from the general disease-related fun regular readers may have become accustomed to. Instead of bowels, and stool and pain, I’d like to take a moment to wax lyrical on another massive pain in my life; my Mother. (I'M JUST JESTING OF COURSE).

My lovely Mum turns an incredible 70 years old this week, and although she may well end my life for broadcasting this fact to the world, it’s a risk I'm willing to take in order to express my deep adoration for the woman who gave me life. (Also if she does kill me, this blog will serve as vital evidence so be sure to pass it on to the police in the event of my untimely demise, thanks).

But I digress. My Mum is beautiful, vibrant and human. She has taught me how to love and be loved, how to laugh and cry and how to show kindness and empathy for those around me. She has taught me true patience, mainly because she often has none; teaching me the time and how to ride a bike, resulted in many a tantrum and storming off in a huff (for her).  She is hilarious and self-deprecating and that’s just as well as her Victoria Sponges are renowned for being flatter than an ironing board. She is forgiving, which again is just as well as I've already told 3 jokes worthy of being grounded and having my pocket money stopped for at least a month. She is tolerant and understanding, and makes me feel special and a benefit to the world.  She allowed me to be myself and is always supportive of my decisions (even when I painted my teenage bedroom fuchsia pink and lime green) .

Before I was diagnosed with Crohn’s Disease it was a trying time for all of us. Not least for my lovely Mum, who struggled watching me be shipped in and out of hospital, poked and prodded and wither away in front of her eyes with no answers forthcoming. It was frustrating for all of us, waiting to find out why I was dying, and I don’t doubt heart-breaking for a mother to watch her daughter suffer and be utterly helpless to do anything about it. I'm not the only of my siblings with a life altering condition, and this is a further cause of worry for my Mum. She feels sad for us and at a loss to solve it. Mums are meant to fix things and kiss you better – some things are beyond kissing better. Besides I like her too much to expect her to kiss my colon better. Several doctors have tried and failed.  

Anyway, as it’s rapidly approaching her special day I wanted to tell her how… special she is to me, and that she’s always in my thoughts. I worry for her just as she worries for me – she won’t stop no matter how much I nag her and neither will I. DEAL WITH IT HEN. I will continue to aspire to make her proud and talk to her about my life as both her friend and her daughter. I will celebrate her life today and every day, and feel toasty-warm inside knowing she is a part of my life.