the Life and Times of Warrior Woman

blonde recluse. nihilarian pronk.

Posts Tagged ‘mum

2012, year in review.

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I hesitated (still am) writing this post, because a) there’s little to be said about 2012; b) all that can be said will probably make me sound like an attention-seeking self-pity-wallowing defeatist.  But, this really was my life in 2012, and if shortened, it can be summed up in just few short statements.

January; a quiet New Year celebration with grandmother and mother, which proved to be the last one for them.

February; mum’s tomography, MRI, first surgery.

March; mum’s diagnosis, second admission to hospital, daily severe pains back home.

April; admission to a private hospital, second very successful surgery, temporary happiness, diagnosis confirmation, grandmother’s illness worsens.

May; post-injection abscess, daily hospital visits, grandmother gets admitted to hospital, has surgery, has second surgery, dies.

June; grandmother’s funeral, mother’s illness progressing.

July; mother’s third surgery, not as successful as first, speech problems, depression.

August; mother keeps going, speech problem escalates, vision begins to deteriorate.

September; mum’s last birthday celebration.

October; rushing to Turkey for treatment, treatment in Turkey.

November; treatment in Turkey, temporary improvement, flight back home, mum dies, mum’s funeral.

December; trying to find ground again, hoping praying begging for 2013 to be kinder.

There were other happenings and goings-on, of course; but, as I’m sure you understand, everything else pales and moves to background.

I want to write goals for 2013, because there’s so much I want to do, so much I want to become.  But I’m terrified.  I wrote plans and goals for 2012, you know.  I even got a job, and made a whompingly huge amount of money in a month.

And now I’m here, and the two people I love most are dead, and I’m constantly afraid for the fate for the other two people I love.

But life goes on.  And my mother always pushed me and wanted me to be whatever I want to be, as long as it makes me happy, and as long as I don’t stop, don’t become paralysed by fear of inadequacy or failure.  So I need to do that.  Need to push myself forward and run, not walk, towards my goals.

Before I begin sounding like a cliché motivational speech, I’d better wrap this post.


Written by Alexandra

30 December 2012 at 6:12 pm

i quit the brew of gods.

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Later on I will talk at large about my gallbladder (because everyone wants to know about it, I’m sure), but right now I’m just going to mention it in the subject of coffee, weight, goals, and being very particular about our requests to God, Universe, or self.

See, for years now I’ve been trying to quit coffee.  If you search through the archives of my old blog (or through this blog’s archives once I’m done manually importing each entry), the subject pops up with admirable regularity.  And I’d manage to quit coffee, of course.  But then I’d relapse like nobody’s business, and end up doubling the dose.  When I first wanted to quit coffee, I was drinking 3-5 cups (cups) a day.  When I announced my last attempt, it was 4-5 mugs a day.  And when I actually had to stop drinking coffee lest I want to live without severe pain, I was having 5-6 mugs a day, with double, and sometimes triple, dose the coffee I’d usually put.


I got what I wished for.  I quit coffee.  Gallbladder stones and coffee (decaf, instant, weaker than tea – it doesn’t matter) absolutely don’t get along.  I had to go cold turkey – and let me tell you, I still want to shoot my brother in the buttock when I make him a cup.

Now for weight.  I’ve wanted to lose weight ever since I fell into depression over a very silly, but back then very unrequited and very painful, love, and, surely to entertain myself, started eating four slices of bread covered in a thick layer of mayo as a snack.  Three times a day.

I went from 54 kg to 110 in a rather short amount of time.

I’d always make this decision to start losing weight.  I’d lose some.  Then something would happen, and I’d gain it back.

Then I’d lost 15 kg when I first found out about my mother’s diagnosis and eventually lost my grandmother.  Then I gained 7 of it back, because after third surgery mum would do a lot of cooking.  And she’d always been an amazing cook, but during the last months of her life it was something else entirely.  It was delicious, and with the grace of God I hope to one day be able to recreate some of the dishes she’d just throw together on the go.  Unfortunately, there are no written notes for all but two.

Then, when I lost mum, I started losing weight again.

Then, a week ago I had yet another spell of the gallbladder shabang.

Since that fateful day I’ve lost approximately 4 kilogrammes.

And I will lose more, because when the illness escalates, I have to hold a very strict diet.  (I have to hold a very strict diet for the rest of my life, but after these bouts it’s even stricter for about two weeks.)  I cannot starve, because this will make the disease worse, but there’s only a very select number of things I can eat, and I can’t eat large portions, rather, small portions every 2-3 hours of the awake time.

So I will lose more weight.

And I am not drinking coffee.

So I got what I was asking for, but the way is a bit backwards, because I guess I couldn’t do it otherwise.

What I’m trying to say, it’s best to do things in life without the divine kick in the butt, because the divine kicks intensely.

Written by Alexandra

29 December 2012 at 9:05 pm

ten days.

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I wrote the post about my cat on Saturday, and Sunday, late at night, I was with my mother at Istanbul.  Ever since I wrote that post things moved very fast, but, judging by my mother’s condition, they weren’t fast enough.

Wednesday will mark our 10 days in Istanbul.  During this time we moved into the flat which is to be our home for the next couple of weeks.  I went back home for one night, and before that cousin flew over to stay with us for a while.

My poor mum can’t sit without our help, walk in any way or form, and she can barely talk.  It depresses her greatly, and I am running out of reassurances.  I just pray to God that she will start feeling better as treatment truly begins to work.

Cousin and I are adjusting to our new temporary way of life.

I want to write about my impressions of the city.  I will, but not tonight.

Every night, I am tired.

Written by Alexandra

15 October 2012 at 9:09 pm

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My mum’s and mine visit to the British Embassy Wednesday this week was not a success.  While our documents were all in order, the wait for a stamped passport is too long, and there’s no guarantee the visa will be issued.  I do not have the luxury of waiting, so my mother and I will be flying to a visa-free country for mum’s treatment.  It will be either Turkey (more than likely), or Israel (father insists).

There is a lot of unfinished business, and some things (like household chores) just keep piling up.  Some cats need to be taken to the vet to be neutered and spayed, and also to have some other health issues resolved.  I need (really, really need) a new pair of trousers and a pair of shoes, and maybe one shirt.  Mother can do with a new shirt.  I need to get some necessities (decaf tea and coffee, fruit sugar, unopened bottles of shampoo and conditioner) as I have no idea when I’ll be able to really do a shopping spree in Istanbul or wherever it is we’ll end up.

I need to find foster homes for cats, or arrange a cat hotel stay for them, which is a bit out of my budget, but what needs to be done, will get done.

I need to pack some entertainment in Russian, for mother.

I need to learn some Turkish (or Hebrew) phrases.

I need to arrange some groceries for brother.

I need to ensure bills will be paid while we’re gone.

I need to buy flight tickets.

I’m forgetting a lot of things right now, but really, this is not a thorough or even partial list, it’s just some ramble to clear my mind a bit until I start with the chores again.

I just really hope this’ll work, you know.

Written by Alexandra

5 October 2012 at 5:14 pm

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a day like any other day.

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I dreamt of my grandmother tonight.

Today mum brought me breakfast of buckwheat with milk, hot cheese sandwiches, banana, ‘batonchik’, and coffee.  She made a similar one for herself, the only difference being tea instead of coffee.

I went to uni, and was late, because route taxi drivers are on strike.  As I arrived late, I wasn’t allowed to watch the activities in honour of European Day of Languages.  So I basically came to uni for nothing.  I went outside, smoked a cigarette, drank a cup of tea, and went home.

I took the 28th bus home, so I stopped by an English bookshop, and bought myself a birthday present — Pocket Oxford Russian Dictionary.

I have a lot of thoughts in my head, that need brushing.  There’s a huddle of ideas that I want to implement, but on the other hand I don’t want to concentrate any resources or energy on these things, because I’m stupidly scared that the moment I start working on them, any of them, other things, other more important things, will go terribly wrong.

I live with this feeling of dread.

I do not wish to elaborate.

I can only pray to Lord that next year, and many years after that, on my birthday my mother will be able to bring me breakfast in bed once more.  And I will be able to do the same for her.

Written by Alexandra

26 September 2012 at 3:29 pm

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