Plus, there's no evidence of safety concerns linked to long-term use of the drug, researchers say
by tara0918 on Wed Dec 21, 2016 08:16 PM
I feel kind of silly doing this but after reading how supportive everyone is, I feel a little better.
My mom died on the 8th of GBM. She was 58. I just turned 30. She got diagnosed April 28 , 2015.
I quit my job at a large law firm to help her run her company for little compensation (Note: I don't regret this) and I spent several months taking her to appointments and errands since she couldn't drive. In the last month, she was in hospice, unable to walk, and I helped change her and feed her, give her meds, etc. We had her funeral last Monday. Somehow, I've survived my entire life without losing someone close to me so grief is not something with which I have experience.
I'm trying really hard here to return to normal, but I'm not myself. I feel kind of like a shell of who I was right now, possibly because I've spent the past few months running around to be with her and care for her and worry about her and now I don't have to.
I also returned to work last Friday and sitting in her office, doing her job is extremely difficult.
While I know grief is experienced individually, does anyone have any advice or resources they could provide (aside from getting another job)? I'm at a loss (no pun intended)
Thanks in advance,
by wwjdmom on Thu Dec 22, 2016 05:04 AM
Hi, Tara. Breathe, sweetie. Walk. Run. Look at the pretty sky. Listen very very closely. Your mom is near and all around. This has forever changed you. Give yourself some time to adjust to your new life, the one where you can no longer pick up the phone and call her. It takes a while to be able to live this new life after the devastating loss.
by FairfaxVA on Wed Dec 28, 2016 06:27 PM
by number9 on Sun Jan 15, 2017 12:34 AM
Tara love... below was sent to me after my mom passed way from GBM (1/20/11)... something i return to (often) when trying to find comfort of perspective at times nothing makes sense out of this loss. I was 39 when she passed and her primary caregiver during those 13 months after her diagnosis on 12/9/09. Thinking of YOU, and offering the following from my heart to your heart...
Nature often offers metaphors more elegant than any we can manufacture. In the redwood ecosystem, all seeds are contained in pods called burls, tough brown clumps that grow where the mother tree’s trunk and root system meet.
When the mother tree is logged, blown over, or destroyed by fire the trauma stimulates the burls’ growth hormones. The seeds release and trees sprout around her, creating the circle of daughters.
The daughter trees grow by absorbing the sunlight their mother cedes to them when she dies. And they get the moisture and nutrients they need from their mother’s root system, which remains intact even after her leaves die. Although the daughters exist independently of their mother above ground, they continue to draw sustenance from her underneath.
I am fooling only myself when I say my mother exists now only in the photograph on my bulletin board or in the outline of my hand or in the armful of memories I still hold tight.
She lives on beneath everything I do. Her presence influenced who I was, and her absence influences who I am.
Our lives are shaped as much by those who leave us as they are by those who stay.
Loss is our legacy. Insight is our gift. Memory is our guide.
by niallsmum on Sat Mar 18, 2017 07:58 PM
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