I can't describe how proud I am of my Mum. I really can't. But the likely-hood is, you've never heard of her in your life. So she runs, alongside my amazing and supportive Dad, a charity called Tower Hamlets Foodbank. T.H.F.B helps people in the local area by giving them food, advice and guidance, but most importantly giving people hope when they have none left. Most of the people she and her team deal with are women and children who have run away from an abusive situation, people who have had their benefits stopped, children that have been kicked out of their homes, and people who are just trying to start their life again.
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| Denise Bentley |
It's a hard job, so over the past five years it's taken a toll on family life. My Mum would work the longest hours, and my Dad was (and still is) on shift work, working at his current job, but also helping Mum with her job.
And the reason why she does all this? It all started nine years ago...
I told you I'd share it.
But before I start, can I just say a big thank you to the neurology team that operated on my Mum in late 2006/early 2007. I didn't thank you nearly as much as I could have back when it all happened but it's essential I thank you now. You won't ever understand how much you've changed the lives of my family and myself. You saved my Mum. Thank you. Thank you.
After getting back home from the weekly shop - I think it was the 30th of December 2006 - Mum was cooking dinner in the kitchen (I was in and out, as I wasn't really interested in food back then, but wanted to give Mum a hand) and had her Bluetooth headphone earpiece in. I don't remember who she was talking to. The boys (Dad and my Brother) were watching football in the living room shouting at the TV - as usual.
*As I'm typing this I'm kind of shaking my head, thinking back to the day and how normal it was. It was such a normal Saturday. I'm sitting here in disbelief.*
I went into the kitchen and made some toast, because I knew dinner was far from being ready. As I was walking out, toast in hand, Mum dropped to the floor and while doing so, hit her head against the wall. She lay there with her eyes wide open, with no emotion on her face - I thought she was joking. I actually thought she was having a laugh. So I called my Dad in, laughing, because they had been playing pranks on each other all day, and I thought this was another one of them.
Being ten years old, I had no idea what an aneurysm is. An aneurysm ( it was described to me at a later date) is a little bag of blood on the surface of your brain, and if it pops, you're dead.
Anyway, Dad came into the kitchen and told me to go into the living room. Knelt beside her, he shook her slightly and was calling her name, and she wasn't answering. By this point I knew something was wrong, so was watching this whole scene intently, waiting for signs of life from Mum.
Dad got up and called an ambulance, speaking calmly into the phone. Knowing that something was wrong and not wanting my younger brother to see what was happening (he was eight), I told him to come upstairs with me. Reluctantly he came - the football was still on - upstairs into my room, he got onto my bed while I knelt at the side of it.
"Andre, we've got to pray for Mum. I think she's sick but I don't know what's wrong with her and Dad called an ambulance so I think it's bad but I don't want you to worry because if we pray then -"
So immediately, as if it had been planned, Andre got off the bed and knelt beside me with his hands together and closed his eyes. I as an older sister had never been prouder. This was my prayer:
"Hi God, I come before you today to pray for Mum. I don't know what's wrong with her but can you please make her better. Amen."
"AMEN." said Andre.
My Mum had a brain hemorrhage. That little bag of blood in her head popped and she was going to die. Or so I thought anyway.
Mum was rushed to the hospital and died twice.
But then they brought her round again. But she was far from okay. But alive. And she stayed in the hospital for months. But then around February, or March she was out. But it still took her years to recover properly.
She decided from then on that her life wasn't hers anymore - because as far as she was concerned - God had saved her life. She was told by doctors that if you ever have a brain hemorrhage, there's a 95% chance you're going to die. And that's before you even get to the hospital. Living beyond a brain hemorrhage isn't very likely at all. She realized she was that 5% that made it.
So she's spent five years working hard on Tower Hamlets Foodbank and it's paid off. Not only is it one of the most successful branches in Britain, but she gets to do what she loves every single day, and people have taken notice. There are articles on the web about her, and companies donating their time, resources and money to support the cause. Once again, I am so so proud of her and what she's done so far, but then I have to remind myself that this is just the beginning. And it only gets better from here.
So for Mother's Day, for the Mum who has everything, I had no idea what to get her. But thinking about it earlier on this week, after all the work she's put in, she needs to rest! So I've sort of made her a pamper day in a box - e v e r y t h i n g a girl would need on a "me-time" day.
It includes a face mask I've been eyeing up for ages:
I got her a few other bits and bobs (a brown lipliner, like one she used to wear back when I was little - 90's influenced - some joggers so she can really lounge about on the day, some chocolate and a scented candle). If we get to spend the day together when she decides to have this pamper day, I'll order some pizza and we'll pig out in front of the TV watching Netflix. I'm already excited.
Anywho, sorry for the long post today guys, but if I'm going to dedicate a post to a family member, I have to do it right, right?
It's been real guys, I'll see you all next week at 7 :)
Hear my Mum's story from her point of view here
Christina x
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