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How quickly plans change

I recently read a book called “Pussy” by Regina. It was a profound book for me. Now bear with me – the name can be a bit confronting for some, but hang in there, please. This book was about tapping in to intuition. On one night, while doing my own form of meditation, I checked in with my “intuition” and asked a very simple question, which was “What should my next move be?” This question I asked about 3 weeks before finding out that my mom had stage 4 cancer. The answer I got back from my intuition came within around 5 minutes. And the message was clear as can be. “Go away. Clear your diary. Go now” Wow! I mean, how could I do that? I was in the middle of launching a new website. I had just launched my membership site, and now my intuition is telling me to clear my diary? How the hell was I meant to make that a reality! Anyway, I decided to move heaven and earth to follow through on the advice from my intuition, although I had no idea why I was doing it, or what it wa
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Was I an enabler?

I have known for a long time that prescription medication has its place. And I have also for a long time doubted whether ongoing prescriptions are necessary. I mean, doesn’t the body have all it needs to heal itself? And doesn’t any illness we have, come from either abusing our bodies in some way, or not listening to the warning signs? I am not judging, and at the same time I am furious. Furious at myself, and furious at a medical system that continued to prescribe anti-depressants and seizure medication to my mother.  Not for 6 months, not for a year, or even 5. No, that would be almost understandable. 24 years of medication for conditions that were not even confirmed in the first place? That seems near on criminal to me.  Yes, initially the medication may have been required, but to my knowledge there has only been one doctor who questioned my mothers scirpts, and that was a very good friend of mine, and doctor, Nijole Lloyd.  My mom travelled to Australia, and
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Finding Our Feet

I have zero medical experience. I have never been chronically ill. I have known people who were ill, but no-one very close to me has experienced serious illness. I guess in this way, I have been lucky to not have had to experience the pain associted with seeing a loved one hurting. The first time the 'C' word was mentioned, my heart stopped. How could this be happening to my mother. This wasn't a stranger whose post I was reading on FaceBook. This was my mother. The only woman in the world who had known me since birth and the woman who had put up with all my crap, who had always been a shoulder for me to cry on, and who had always been there when I needed her the most. It was my uncle who had said to me on the phone that I needed to make some decisions about my moms health. Me? Why me? Because I am the oldest of 3 children to my mother. That is just how it goes. Our first week in South Africa was a world wind. Thank goodness for my uncle and aunt accommodating us on
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The dreaded phone call

I was still lying in bed. Craig was getting ready for work, and I was enjoying my early morning tea. Craig's phone started ringing. It was on the bed. Without much thought, I glanced over to see who was calling. The phone ID was my uncle Eric in South Africa... why was he ringing Craig?  For anyone living away from family, you know that it's not good news when a relative rings that you haven't spoken to in years. I mean, we hadn't spoken for years. My heart jumped into my mouth. I knew it was not going to be good. I picked up the phone and answered it, even although Craig was standing right there. My uncle asked me if I was open to the news, or did I want him to speak to Craig. Of course I wanted to know what was going on. Then the news.... my mom had been admitted to hospital the night before. My uncle and aunt had taken her in after realising that my mom was in a lot of pain. The diagnosis was still unsure, but what they knew was that my moms liver was twice the
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