"The ba's burst fur the big yin!" Crawford’s words to me when he first felt pains in his legs at the end of January, the GP optimistically thought it could be rheumatism but I think Crawford had a gut feeling, the leukaemia was back. He was admitted to the Queen Margaret on Feb 11th it was confirmed and he was moved to the hospice ward. He had a sense of humour throughout that still had Mum, me and the nurses laughing. He wasn’t eating and was disappearing before our eyes; one of his sons, Andrew arrived from Australia a week ago.
Yesterday, I spent the afternoon with Mum, again at Queen Margaret, she couldn’t walk, her right leg was excruciating, she couldn’t bare weight on it or walk, with her health history, (terminal cancer) they admitted her, did some tests, bloods, ECG an MRI scan, she asked would she be able to get out for the funeral on Wednesday. My gut instinct was that because she’d spent Tuesday perched on a plastic chair it was “just” nerve/muscular pain. She does have tumours on her spine but the results showed “no change” so they let her go home.
While we were at the hospital waiting for the results, we were in a side room, a lady came in and asked what Mum would like for tea, we weren’t sure if was she staying in or going home? She wasn’t sure, I said have something because if she was staying she wouldn’t get something until I brought it in later, this was her only chance to eat. I was also offered something. If we didn’t eat it, it would go into the waste, ok, we’ll have a baked tattie with tuna then! Mum made me smile. She said “Don’t ever say I don’t take you out for something to eat!” My return was “Anything for an afternoon off work!”
Today we were going through what music we’ll have on Wednesday, Pauline has sorted a Piper, so Highland Cathedral and The Dark Island are definite. Knowing Crawford’s humour we joked about stuff like You cannae shove yer Granny aff a Bus and the Bluebell Polka, (he used to play it on the accordion)