No Names, No Pack Drill.

Maybe I shouldn’t be posting this. I don’t want to get my eldest into hot water. But she can’t go public. So I am. I’ve run it by her and she says if I feel like going for it ‘there’s nothing I can do to stop you’.

My gorgeous eldest 24 year old daughter spent New Year’s Eve working night shift in a  hospital. She’s a nurse. And a bloody excellent one.

I haven’t seen her over the last couple of days but I’ve spoken to her on the phone.

Her back is in agony and she has a trapped nerve in her arm. Why? Well, in their wisdom, the powers-that-be at the hospital decided to let her ward operate two nurses down on Hogmanay and told them, ‘you’ll manage’.

Now, if I were a relative of patients on the ward, I would not be happy to think that the ward was trying to function while being understaffed. Makes sense that something will go to the wall, if this is the case.

As the mother of a nurse, the mother of my daughter, the very idea that management thought it was fine to leave them in this ridiculous position leaves me livid. How dare they? She has her whole life and career ahead of her. She has yet to have children. She does not need to go through life with back troubles. Management has a duty of care to both patients and staff and they have clearly abrogated any sense of responsibility by making no attempt to ensure adequate staff coverage. Not even seeking bank staff to supplement.

The mighty or not so mighty pound has spoken again.

Thankfully, my daughter is no one’s sap.

Money or neglect? Umm, let’s weigh that one up. Or is there really any need to?

Sad Tears. Happy Tears.

I’ve cried a few times over this holiday period. Yes, Hogmanay, I find a very melancholic night. I hate it actually. I don’t want to view it as the end of a year and reflect on another year of life passing. I want to see it as one more day in the unfolding days of life. But, for some reason, every year, I find myself weeping. I’m fine the following day, as if it never happened. It’s not alcohol induced. It’s just a sad sort of melancholy I cannot avoid in the hours leading up to the bells. And I know I was not alone in feeling this way. I have read a number of posts from others who felt exactly the same.

I want to share with you though another evening of tears. Happy tears.

Christmas Eve. My 20 year old daughter came home to spend Christmas and gave me my Christmas present on Christmas Eve.

It’s a beautiful leather bound journal with carvings and leather bindings. It’s gorgeous.

But she inscribed it to me. And here is what she wrote. I cried. And I hugged her for her love and understanding.

To Mum,

I got you this journal to say that not everything you write has to be read by the world and not everything that is read by the world is actually how you feel.

When you feel angry or frustrated or sad or lonely, I want you to write in this and be reminded of how proud I am of you. How proud that you’re my mother. I want you to write in this and remember that I love you very much, that we all do and that will never change. I want you to write in this especially when you feel that no one is listening or that something is just too difficult to say and know that I will always be here to support you. I want you to write in this, mum, even if it is just one word and I promise you that everything will be okay.

And then one day, if you allow me, I’ll read it. I’ll read it and be reminded that it’s okay to have flaws and faults because the strongest person in my life also did. I’ll read it and remember how brave you are and how your courage helps me through my darkest days. I’ll read it and know it all already because nothing you could say or do could ever disappoint or surprise me. I’ll read it mum and be in absolute awe at your talent. You’re amazing – never forget that.

Merry Christmas.

MK xxx

I’m crying again as I type this up. It is the most beautiful gift I have ever been given. The journal is lovely. The words take my breath away.

I am sure we all have people in our lives who feel this way about us. I happen to have a daughter who, like myself, loves to articulate what she feels. I am honoured she feels this way.

We all have those who love us unconditionally, I hope. And maybe we should try to say what we feel to let others know our love too. This has set me up for the rest of my life let alone the new year.