My mum was coming down her stairs. A difficult feat in her last days and only performed if she had an appointment she had to attend. I was working daily on a roller coaster of emotions. The intensity of caring for an elderly, widowed mother with historic emotional challenges, was not easy.

“Come on mum just another few steps” I said, the parent daughter relationship clearly in reverse. Mum’s strategy for overcoming her dependence on me, and on others, was difficult and defensive. This day, halfway down the stairs, was no different.  Then mum said “Rachel you are so patient“.

A lot of my negative feelings melted like ice in a boiling kettle. It changed the experience into something worthwhile and solid.

My nickname from early on was “Breathless nellie”. An uncle who knew I was always in a hurry coined the phrase. ‘Patient’ as a compliment was new.

Mum had changed. No longer the creative dressmaker, homemaker and excellent cook. She still had remnants of the film star looks she had been blessed with (sadly I took after my dad in the looks department). Yes everything was changing and I felt for the first time the fruits of change within myself too.

They say patience is a virtue. Caring for my mum taught me about instant gratification. And it’s opposite. “Don’t quit five minutes before the miracle happens” often the battle cry in 12-step recovery, urging perseverance when it is tough.

Breakthroughs and despair are often closer than we think. 

Stay sober/patient/silent and see what happens next has been very important to me. Patience is definitely essential to experiencing the full kaleidoscope of life.

I am relieved the Assisted dying bill failed yesterday in Scotland.  I feel Scotland is safer for it.  Obviously now the holes in palliative care must be addressed.  So that people dying and their families can experience the journey of dying and the fruits of patience.  Even when there is uncertainty, pain and often unfinished business. And not just feel they must hurtle to the destination.