Things didn’t stop there, in fact things became even horrible. Yes, I was happy that my Mum was home but her presence was still not the same as before. She didn’t like loud sound, she couldn’t cope with being around loads of people all at once let alone holding a conversation that was longer than 3 minutes. What happened to my Mum? The one who made all the jokes and knew what to say in every scenario. She was always sleeping and her mood was always down, always negative. For she fell, into depression. She didn’t want to even get out of her bed to spend time with us all in the living room let alone getting out of the house for a walk. Not only because she physically couldn’t but emotionally too. She knew she didn’t look the same, she didn’t feel the same, it was a shock to her more than anyone. But being the amazing person she is, she kept her head held high and smiled. Yes, she’d cry when no one was looking, even though I’d notice it. Seeing my Mum break down into tears, sobbing and sobbing as people would sympathise towards her and ask her if she was okay, was heart breaking. For she didn’t have to say anything when replying if she was okay, she let the silent tears do all the talking.
Yet she knew, that Allah gives His strongest soldiers the hardest battles. She overcame something so hard and threatening emotionally and physically, so surely Allah loves her so much that He guided her towards ease. She always remembered that, and whenever anyone said that she’d be okay she’d always nod her head and say ‘Yes, Allah cares for me’. And that, would make me smile. Even though my Mum went through so much, she didn’t lose hope and faith, and for me that was so beautiful to see. My Mum was always an inspiration to me, and for her to even try holding back the tears and keeping strong was enough for me to say I am so proud of my Mum and I will forever be grateful to Allah for her.
However, things didn’t stop there, in fact things became even horrible. For my Mum began having what you call pseudo seizures that would make her body shake and uncontrollable but in a way where she was still aware. Her face would slant to the left and she wouldn’t be able to communicate. It was a scary sight to see, repeatedly. And for these reasons she’d be in and out of hospital. For every pseudo seizure she’d have something worse would happen each time, shortness of breath etc. And for me as a daughter, for me to one minute be talking to her casually then the next be calling the ambulance explaining to them of what’s happening and to come quickly, was hard. My voice would always break when talking to the man or woman on the other line of the phone, they’d always re assure me and tell me that I’m being ‘really brave’ but I knew I wasn’t ready. No matter how much we tried, running from the hospital was a no go. For she’d always go back. When would this all stop? When can I stop seeing my Mum connected to wires laying in a hospital bed? When can she come home? These moments, these questions, were seen impossible to be answered correctly let alone positively, and that, was VERY hard to accept.