Freya - 12 years old

When we left her at the hospital, I didn't realize how much I was going to miss her. She wouldn't be coming back for a long time. Not the real her anyway.

At the start of my summer holidays, I was laughing, giggling and joking with my mates. We were looking forward to the summer, and we had already planned multiple shopping trips and visits to the beach. I was convinced that it was going to be the best summer of my life.

My mum had had trouble walking for the last couple of months, and had been feeling dizzy since the beginning of the year. We put this down to a severe case of Labyrinthitus, but just to make sure, she had already had a brain scan. Nothing showed up.

A fortnight into our holiday, a new phase came to light. Throwing up nearly all the time isn't great, so we cut our holiday in Cornwall short and quickly booked an appointment with our local GP. His quick search also said there was nothing wrong, so he prescribed my mum some mild drugs and said to come back in a couple of  months. If we had taken his advice, my mum would have died.

I was at my friends house when the call came. After packing the essentials, my parents collected me and they told me in the car that my mum had a rare type of brain cancer. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't collapse in front of my mum who was being so brave and holding it together for me. I was in shock. I was so angry and sad and mixed up. It's still painful. A part of me was lost that day. I was falling way out of my depth and I knew it. I retreated into myself, nobody could help me unless they made my mum better, or turned back time.

When we left her at the hospital, I didn't realize how much I was going to miss her. She wouldn't be coming back for a long time. Not the real her anyway. We stayed away from home from a couple of nights, and I was a mess. I couldn't sleep, wouldn't eat, and just didn't care. When i saw my mum after her six hour long surgery, she wasn't her. she was drugged up and confused and her blood was every where, and so were the tubes. She has staples and a massive scar on her neck, and i was queasy at the sight of it. Just visiting her in intensive care could set me off, and when I smell that stink they have in hospitals I feel so sick.

She was O.K but slightly weak after her first surgery, she hated hospitals, so was let out early- after a week. she ad loads of visitors and flowers at first, but she was tired, and they could see they weren't helping her by being there, so there were only a few regular visitors after that.

She had her next scan. We got the worst. there was still some tumor left and she was going back into the hospital. when we realized this, none of us knew what to say. we were going through it again, and although she had made it the first time, what makes you think she would be so lucky the second?

As if that was not bad enough, my uncle was admitted in the same week, after having awful headaches recently. When it was revealed he also had cancer, everything got 100 times more complicated. When the doctor told us he was going to die in one to two years..... There isn't a phrase i can make up to be as powerful as what it felt like. I ran up to my room and started hitting things until my room was a junk heap. Even that couldn't make my emotions clear. His son and daughter- my cousins- are twins and five years old. I love them more than anything and to think their dad isn't going to be around for as long as I am to see them grow up and get married... to think that they won't even remember him clearly, or remember what his voice sounded like...

We weren't going to tell my mum that my uncle was downstairs in his ward, and we were't there to help her when one of the nurses let it out. I really regret that.

My mum tried to self discharge two days after her second major op, and she was in a state, but she managed to convince her surgeon it was the right choice too!

Now she's home though, I thought everything would be better, but it's not. She's confused and annoyed- usually with me, about the smallest of things. She got cross with me that i fetched her the wrong type of spoon when she wanted one with a different handle, or when she tells me off for no reason. I feel like that because she's so weak, she can't have all the responsibilities of being a parent- like telling me what to do. i'm looking after her more than vice- versa. And today she wasn't making any sense, I tried to  make her eggs but she brushed me away and made noodles, beans, toast and finished off the eggs I was making her, and then started crying when she tipped it over the floor, and told me that I did it all wrong, that I was forcing her to make eggs. I know it's the tumor, and I still love my mum, but it's controlling her and taking over our lives.

None of my friends understand what it's like, and I'm not going to tell them, but they try to be supportive, but no one really sees the real me any more, except the people I really trust. I broke down at my mate's birthday party the other day, and called my dad and made him take me home. They were all shocked to see me cry, because I had been holding it together at school so far, and i don't think i had let on how much it was affecting me. They all hugged me and made sure it was ok the next day, but I feel disconnected from them. I'm definitely jealous of them, and their awesome lives and when i fall asleep in class or feel fragile, they're the ones to wake me up or comfort me.

I used to be quite a good pupil too, but know I'm either falling asleep or worrying too much to concentrate. I drag my mind back to focus, but always drift back again.

My life seems unreal, and compare myself to the person i was a mere month ago, I would go back in an instant. But there's no turning back. those times are only real in my memories, and recently I wonder if they ever even existed at all...

Page updated 25 September 2012