Botox days are boring for me - I have to get up early to eat and then fast for at least 8 hours.
I usually listen to stories and try and wriggle my way off the bed, making my temperature increase!
For Mum, it’s a bit different.
Botox injections occur in the Oncology day ward - a place we have spent too much time at, a place that Mum never felt welcomed at, a place where we were ignored, because people couldn’t handle cancer and cerebral palsy. Not together.
Mum has to listen to the doctors and therapists talk about me like we aren’t there. She has to listen to them tell her how she should be doing things with me - even though she does exactly what they say already. She has to hide her tears when they tell her what she is doing isn’t enough. She has to explain my allergies over and over again.
Today, it was discovered I have a grade one pressure sore on my heel - Mum has been monitoring it since my surgery, but today, because it’s the first time they noticed it (remember I was there not long ago), they had to report it and tell
Mum she needs to do more.
Today, Mum was able to be with me while I had my injections. (Normally I have it under a general anaesthetic, but today they used nitrous gas.) During this time, Mum had to hide her anxiety - it’s not easy watching me with a mask on, being unresponsive and hearing alarms ring constantly. Today, Mum’s memories weren’t nice, but she had to push through that, because none of the staff are strong enough to deal with Mum’s tears.
Today was a bad day for Mum. She’ll be ok, but today, there aren’t enough Botox jokes to help.