I really shouldn't write about this stuff here, and will try to make future blogs more positive.
As you probably know today would have been Grandad's birthday so to say the least today has been awful. I'm not sure what to do, after yesterday seeing the ashes in private and today refusing to go and bury them, I have realised how I am almost in a cage. The thing which people call grief that I need to deal with I just can't and I don't know how to get out of the cage, sorry no other way to describe it really. I'm just being so so selfish. This sounds so bad but the positive memories of him are fading and the dark ones of him not being here, seeing him in his last hour, seeing him hooked on machines, hearing him crying, the funeral, and now his ashes are taking over. I'm selfish, wingey and disrespectful and I don't like it one bit.
Tomorrow is going to be awful as I have to go to the hospital with "other" grandad and I hate it enough when I go there, but now ever since grandad passed away it is worse. I feel so icky anyway there but now I feel anger towards the staff at the hospital. I shouldn't, that is very horrible of me, but I cant change how I keep thinking they should have done more, I know they couldn't which makes me even more evil that I would think such a thing. I am coping in the ontopic way, I mean I am safe, but I really don't know how to overcome this intense feeling. I am just being such a burden on everyone when I should be supporting them, if anyone knows at all, I will be extremely greatful. Sorry.
Sunday, 29 November 2009
Thursday, 19 November 2009
Memory stuff.
The only reason why I am about to write this on here is that i feel as if I shouldn't forget the event for some strange reason or another. Something I can look back on and maybe it will make me remember things, how I was feeling and how I have improved in the future. I would just type it onto word and save it but my laptop has been breaking a lot recently so I will lose it and people may go through my documents. I could also save it on a memory stick but they are all full with school work and cannot afford another right now. I could also write it by hand, but that has the possibilty of being lost, ruined, ripped and found. I could also post it in a stupid note on facebook, but it is not for that and plus I wouldn't want the whole world and it's friends seeing this. So here is the only place I can really write about it, so if you do not want to read about death and shizz you dont have to read on, actually I would advise anyone reading this not to read on if you dont, how shall we say it, react well to that stuff. I would also like to point out, although I am talking to some invisibile person now, this is not an "attention seeking" blog, not that any are, but this is purely to release somethings that have been nothing but a burden and it isnt helping keeping it private. So here it goes.
Thursday 9th July 2009. I knew that this would be a bad day from the moment I woke up. I had that horrible niggly feeling in the pit of my stomach, that is so cliche but very real. I also knew that today, my Grandad was being moved into the Hospice as he did not want to be a burden at home. By this point I knew he was terminal, and did not have long left, months suppoisdly. I also knew that just 5 days ago he was sitting up in his chair in hospital chatting away and making jokes. He had made the decision to come off treatment, knowing that nothing more could be done, and to give him a better quality of life.
This was about 8 weeks on from when he first started having stomach pains and was taken into hospital for some tests. On Saturaday 16th May 2009 we were due to be going out for a birthday meal for my 'other' Grandad. But seeing as Grandad (Gordon) was taken ill a few days before, the meal was cancelled. It was then, a few weeks later, during my exams infact, I decided to visit him. Somthing which I hate doing, going to hospitals. It was this day, that turned out to be the worst day for visiting him. He looked awfully ill, could not speak much and was in bed, had to ask me to pull the covers up for him he was that week. Whilst waiting for my Gran to come back with the family travelled down from his home town (brother, sisters and their parters) I saw the white hospital sheet on his table. I had a look. Acute Myeloid Lukemia. Cancer. All there was too it, I cannot remember exactly what was on the sheet but I remember not being too surprised because the symptoms he had described, and test results were part of my biology course that I was doing and thus, I knew what it meant. Having battled with various illness' over the years I stupidly thought he would be ok. Well about 65% of me thought he would be. There was obviously part of me knowing he wouldn't. At this point in time, everyone else seemed to know what was wrong with him, not choosing to tell me as they did not want to mess up my exams, which I can now say, although being annoyed then, they had a point. My exams were officially put aside, I couldnt give 2 sh*t's about them, and yes I did fail my biology, ironic. But that is not the point. The point was that in the space of his diagnosis, around June, to when he passed away was non stop science terminology, and moving around.
I came home that night and demanded my mum tell me what was happening, so she did and told me he has a good chance of recovering, saying it is one of the easiest ones to treat. I did not believe her, why should I, when I already knew it wouldn't be ok? Equipment came from the hospital, like a bed and stuff. This was set up in their dining room for when he came home. At about here I don't remember much, not at all and I dont know why. I remember going to pick him up for home visits, pushing him in his wheelchair, talking to him and stuff, never mentioning the C word. He had not started chemotherapy at this point I don't think. When he was undergoing treatment, I did not visit him. It is for this reason I believe that it was my fault he passed away. Everyone always said I made him happy, so me not being there made him sad, logically it works. When you are sad you dont recover well. Simple as that. He asked for a picture of me and stuck it on the window by all the cards. I wish I could have seen him more, but I couldn't , I cant do that stuff. The guilt was immense, I would talk to him on the phone all the time, hear him ask to talk to me, and speak with a shakey voice the whole time, only about 5 minutes a time, because he would then start to cough a lot and have to go.
My mind is blank from there. The next time I can recall is the 5th July. He was in hospital getting ready to come home and not go back there. He was sitting up talking, he still had all his hair and everything as it was not intensive treament. He did not look like him, he had developed a huge, lumpy rash all over his chest, neck and face. He was not the same person he was, but it made me love him more. It was at this point I denied it all. He was not ill, the disease would go, I knew it was terminal when mum came home crying after a meeting with the team. I thought he would still be around for a few more months. So then he came home and went into bed on tuesday. He was soley dependent on everyone. He was asleep for 23 out of 24 hours of a day, more or less. He would ask for a bit of iron bru, through a straw watch a bit of horseracing for 30 seconds and sleep again. I remember sitting by his bed and looking out into the garden at the tree we had planted and stuff. I knew the time was near, but no one dare said anything. I remember him crying, out of embarassment, the first time I had seen him cry. Out of pain too, sheer sadness. It was heartbreaking. He could not use the toilet on his own and felt like a compelte burden, he wanted to be alone. So his last request was to be moved into the hospice.
He moved there on Thursday 9th July 2009. I went to school, but walked out of school, I think maybe a lesson, but I did not care. I walked out and walked to the hospice, a normally 30 minute journey took 15. It was not what I expected it to be, I hated it there, full of people in their final stage of their life. Then I saw him, asleep at the end of the ward. I was only there 10 minutes, until I made an excuse about having to do work, which I did have to do, but I didn't. I sat on my floor and pretended to read wuthering heights. Before this, I said goodbye to him, after my uncle woke him up. He showed the most strength he ever had done, he raised his hand and clearly spoke "Bye". He sounded like he always used to, admitidly, he sounded more in pain, but it was like I went back 5 months, even though this was only 8 weeks after he had been diagnosed, and about 9 weeks after we had made fairy cakes. 9 weeks on and I was seeing the same warm, loving man on his death bed. We touched hands and I went home. My mum said a few weeks ago how he went peacefully and how the nurse positioned him, how he moved a little bit, breathed funny and slipped away. My dad came home and told me. I cried a little bit, not much, I was not allowed to be weak. I hid on my bed and we had chicken that night. I ate alone, my aunt was too late to see him before he went and was hysterical. Poor thing. I missed a lot of school from then until we broke up for summer. The school was informed but I had never felt so alone. I was not working, I was not doing anything.
It was the day of the funeral Thursday 23rd July 2009 that I think it started to click. I was strong in the morning, seeing family, although my poem made my great aunt cry. I did not cry at the funeral, I comforted people. I remember looking out of the window, singing in my head so I wouldn't cave. I thought of him at the funeral but done what I always had done since I was small. I did not show my weak side, the service was beautiful. There was flowers of his beloved home town, messages of sympathy, music, people reading and poems. At the wake I went around with my second cousins and took one to the station. I came home and spoke to my girl at the time. She gave me permission to be upset. So i did for 45 minutes. I cried alot. And it didnt help. So this brings me to now. I am hoping this will let me re live some of it, help me try to be 'normal' again. It hasn't I held everything back and now I wish nothing more than to have him back at christmas and do things like we always do, him incharge of the turkey, exchanging gifts and helping him with the decorations. I know it is not possible and I know this will be a lonely time. His birthday is in 10 days and I know it wont be the same. I miss and love him, too much. But at least he is at peace now.
Thursday 9th July 2009. I knew that this would be a bad day from the moment I woke up. I had that horrible niggly feeling in the pit of my stomach, that is so cliche but very real. I also knew that today, my Grandad was being moved into the Hospice as he did not want to be a burden at home. By this point I knew he was terminal, and did not have long left, months suppoisdly. I also knew that just 5 days ago he was sitting up in his chair in hospital chatting away and making jokes. He had made the decision to come off treatment, knowing that nothing more could be done, and to give him a better quality of life.
This was about 8 weeks on from when he first started having stomach pains and was taken into hospital for some tests. On Saturaday 16th May 2009 we were due to be going out for a birthday meal for my 'other' Grandad. But seeing as Grandad (Gordon) was taken ill a few days before, the meal was cancelled. It was then, a few weeks later, during my exams infact, I decided to visit him. Somthing which I hate doing, going to hospitals. It was this day, that turned out to be the worst day for visiting him. He looked awfully ill, could not speak much and was in bed, had to ask me to pull the covers up for him he was that week. Whilst waiting for my Gran to come back with the family travelled down from his home town (brother, sisters and their parters) I saw the white hospital sheet on his table. I had a look. Acute Myeloid Lukemia. Cancer. All there was too it, I cannot remember exactly what was on the sheet but I remember not being too surprised because the symptoms he had described, and test results were part of my biology course that I was doing and thus, I knew what it meant. Having battled with various illness' over the years I stupidly thought he would be ok. Well about 65% of me thought he would be. There was obviously part of me knowing he wouldn't. At this point in time, everyone else seemed to know what was wrong with him, not choosing to tell me as they did not want to mess up my exams, which I can now say, although being annoyed then, they had a point. My exams were officially put aside, I couldnt give 2 sh*t's about them, and yes I did fail my biology, ironic. But that is not the point. The point was that in the space of his diagnosis, around June, to when he passed away was non stop science terminology, and moving around.
I came home that night and demanded my mum tell me what was happening, so she did and told me he has a good chance of recovering, saying it is one of the easiest ones to treat. I did not believe her, why should I, when I already knew it wouldn't be ok? Equipment came from the hospital, like a bed and stuff. This was set up in their dining room for when he came home. At about here I don't remember much, not at all and I dont know why. I remember going to pick him up for home visits, pushing him in his wheelchair, talking to him and stuff, never mentioning the C word. He had not started chemotherapy at this point I don't think. When he was undergoing treatment, I did not visit him. It is for this reason I believe that it was my fault he passed away. Everyone always said I made him happy, so me not being there made him sad, logically it works. When you are sad you dont recover well. Simple as that. He asked for a picture of me and stuck it on the window by all the cards. I wish I could have seen him more, but I couldn't , I cant do that stuff. The guilt was immense, I would talk to him on the phone all the time, hear him ask to talk to me, and speak with a shakey voice the whole time, only about 5 minutes a time, because he would then start to cough a lot and have to go.
My mind is blank from there. The next time I can recall is the 5th July. He was in hospital getting ready to come home and not go back there. He was sitting up talking, he still had all his hair and everything as it was not intensive treament. He did not look like him, he had developed a huge, lumpy rash all over his chest, neck and face. He was not the same person he was, but it made me love him more. It was at this point I denied it all. He was not ill, the disease would go, I knew it was terminal when mum came home crying after a meeting with the team. I thought he would still be around for a few more months. So then he came home and went into bed on tuesday. He was soley dependent on everyone. He was asleep for 23 out of 24 hours of a day, more or less. He would ask for a bit of iron bru, through a straw watch a bit of horseracing for 30 seconds and sleep again. I remember sitting by his bed and looking out into the garden at the tree we had planted and stuff. I knew the time was near, but no one dare said anything. I remember him crying, out of embarassment, the first time I had seen him cry. Out of pain too, sheer sadness. It was heartbreaking. He could not use the toilet on his own and felt like a compelte burden, he wanted to be alone. So his last request was to be moved into the hospice.
He moved there on Thursday 9th July 2009. I went to school, but walked out of school, I think maybe a lesson, but I did not care. I walked out and walked to the hospice, a normally 30 minute journey took 15. It was not what I expected it to be, I hated it there, full of people in their final stage of their life. Then I saw him, asleep at the end of the ward. I was only there 10 minutes, until I made an excuse about having to do work, which I did have to do, but I didn't. I sat on my floor and pretended to read wuthering heights. Before this, I said goodbye to him, after my uncle woke him up. He showed the most strength he ever had done, he raised his hand and clearly spoke "Bye". He sounded like he always used to, admitidly, he sounded more in pain, but it was like I went back 5 months, even though this was only 8 weeks after he had been diagnosed, and about 9 weeks after we had made fairy cakes. 9 weeks on and I was seeing the same warm, loving man on his death bed. We touched hands and I went home. My mum said a few weeks ago how he went peacefully and how the nurse positioned him, how he moved a little bit, breathed funny and slipped away. My dad came home and told me. I cried a little bit, not much, I was not allowed to be weak. I hid on my bed and we had chicken that night. I ate alone, my aunt was too late to see him before he went and was hysterical. Poor thing. I missed a lot of school from then until we broke up for summer. The school was informed but I had never felt so alone. I was not working, I was not doing anything.
It was the day of the funeral Thursday 23rd July 2009 that I think it started to click. I was strong in the morning, seeing family, although my poem made my great aunt cry. I did not cry at the funeral, I comforted people. I remember looking out of the window, singing in my head so I wouldn't cave. I thought of him at the funeral but done what I always had done since I was small. I did not show my weak side, the service was beautiful. There was flowers of his beloved home town, messages of sympathy, music, people reading and poems. At the wake I went around with my second cousins and took one to the station. I came home and spoke to my girl at the time. She gave me permission to be upset. So i did for 45 minutes. I cried alot. And it didnt help. So this brings me to now. I am hoping this will let me re live some of it, help me try to be 'normal' again. It hasn't I held everything back and now I wish nothing more than to have him back at christmas and do things like we always do, him incharge of the turkey, exchanging gifts and helping him with the decorations. I know it is not possible and I know this will be a lonely time. His birthday is in 10 days and I know it wont be the same. I miss and love him, too much. But at least he is at peace now.
Tuesday, 17 November 2009
Reminder
It is anti bullying week this week and just to promote the song again
www.cybermentors.org.uk click on download anthem and ringtones (I think) on the homepage if you scroll down
It has had a great response so far and by raising awareness we are one step closer to helping combat Bullying :)
www.cybermentors.org.uk click on download anthem and ringtones (I think) on the homepage if you scroll down
It has had a great response so far and by raising awareness we are one step closer to helping combat Bullying :)
Thursday, 12 November 2009
*Update!* BeatBullying Song =D
It's ready for download!
I sing at about 1:15 in the group
I am in the "and say!'s"
My lyrics are around 1:43-1:54
and I sing in the group after that until about 2:04
www.cybermentors.org.uk
if you go on there and then click on download anthem and ringtones, (under NDubz bit) go to the bottom one (R U Cybersafe) and have a listen. Is a bit annoying they didn't turn up to the thing and that but hey :) it's is done, ready and am very pleased with it.
Let me know what you think please. Oh and today I actually spoke, yes spoke infront of a whole class of year 7's 3 times about it!
so yay :) hope you like it
I sing at about 1:15 in the group
I am in the "and say!'s"
My lyrics are around 1:43-1:54
and I sing in the group after that until about 2:04
www.cybermentors.org.uk
if you go on there and then click on download anthem and ringtones, (under NDubz bit) go to the bottom one (R U Cybersafe) and have a listen. Is a bit annoying they didn't turn up to the thing and that but hey :) it's is done, ready and am very pleased with it.
Let me know what you think please. Oh and today I actually spoke, yes spoke infront of a whole class of year 7's 3 times about it!
so yay :) hope you like it
Wednesday, 11 November 2009
Beatbullying song!
I have just been sent the song that we recorded for beatbullying. When it is available for download I will post the link, the song sounds awesome though am very pleased with how it turned out. Oh and somehow it features NDubz. (singing the lyrics I wrote! And other bits but yay!)
Hopefully will be ready for download soon :)
Hopefully will be ready for download soon :)
Sunday, 8 November 2009
I was wrong
I was wrong in moaning about the early start this morning. I was tired and grumpy ::)
Basically, I started doing school work at 10 am and have only just finished, my breaks probably added up to about 20 minutes in total. so I have been working constantly for 5 hours and 10 minutes.
I got my RE essay done (1159 words)
My film sudies script (1500 words)
My film studies Catalogue (603 words)
Extra film studies notes to do my script (492 words)
Plus looking at important parts of the films and stuff.
3754 words in total, doesnt sound like much actually. but research and changing shizz too, not to mention I had to cut down film studies to exactly the maximum limit (am secretly proud I got it dead on ::) )
Plus having to print stuff off and work out where things will go, basically change it all around then type it out.
I still have one more essay to do by tomorrow, which is about 1500 words. Which I would have got done, but I did not realise my film studies would take from 11:20 until 3:30.
So I think I will watch the football and do an essay after. Hopefully.
Yay for productiveness :)
Basically, I started doing school work at 10 am and have only just finished, my breaks probably added up to about 20 minutes in total. so I have been working constantly for 5 hours and 10 minutes.
I got my RE essay done (1159 words)
My film sudies script (1500 words)
My film studies Catalogue (603 words)
Extra film studies notes to do my script (492 words)
Plus looking at important parts of the films and stuff.
3754 words in total, doesnt sound like much actually. but research and changing shizz too, not to mention I had to cut down film studies to exactly the maximum limit (am secretly proud I got it dead on ::) )
Plus having to print stuff off and work out where things will go, basically change it all around then type it out.
I still have one more essay to do by tomorrow, which is about 1500 words. Which I would have got done, but I did not realise my film studies would take from 11:20 until 3:30.
So I think I will watch the football and do an essay after. Hopefully.
Yay for productiveness :)
Annoyances *rant*
So last night, well, this morning, it took me absolutely ages to get to sleep, and when I had finally managed to, what seemed like after only a couple of hours I was woken up, claiming that this time tomorrow I will be in school therefore I should get up now. 15 minutes later... this time tomorrow you will be in lessons if you do not wake up now then you have no chance of waking up tomorrow. I'm not sure if I live on a different planet to everyone else right now, but surely if you do one thing one day, it doesn't have to be the same the next. Also, taking into account it is in fact the weekend, and people are known to have the odd sneaky lay in until 9am, I have not got 6th form today, therefore I will not be waking up for it. Oh, and to top it off, dad came in your breakfast is done (very nice gesture) but then one minute later, are you coming down, another minute later, it's getting cold. Well, thanks, you done a really nice thing, but please I could warm it up. Also, mum actually decided to come in and shout at me at half 8. No disrespect meant but please, it's not like I went to bed at like 11 and got a full nights sleep, yes that may have been my fault, but how can I help it if I cant get to sleep when in bed?
On the bright side Chelsea are playing Manchester United today, I will *hopefully* get some more work done, and the X factor is on later. So lets just hope that all that fuss of bothering to get out of bed today was worth it.
Apologies for the rant, and congratulations if you made it through that.
On the bright side Chelsea are playing Manchester United today, I will *hopefully* get some more work done, and the X factor is on later. So lets just hope that all that fuss of bothering to get out of bed today was worth it.
Apologies for the rant, and congratulations if you made it through that.
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