Regrets

Regrets, I have a few (I have a nasty feeling that this statement may be slightly plagiarised!) however, my biggest regrets in life (so far) have always been about things I didn't do, rather than stuff I did - though obviously my experiment in trying to kick a ball whilst wearing a half leg cast (I had broken my ankle at school, having fallen onto a concrete floor whilst swinging on a hot water pipe in the changing room ceiling) which involved me both hopping and trying to kick the ball with my good leg, probably wasn't a great idea! (Yes, I landed with a massive crash on my bedroom floor, which brought my entire family pounding up the stairs to see what I'd broken this time - fortunately, nothing!).

Anyway, back to my original point, my biggest regrets are (currently) not having visited close family members who were gravely ill and pretty much on their deathbeds. In one instance I convinced myself that the situation wasn't that bad, only to be proven wrong later that day. In another, I was aged 13 and at boarding school so had no choice in the matter. Yet another found me receiving a phone call at nearly midnight from a hospital just outside London, informing me that an Aunt was near to death and that, as I was the closest (geographically speaking) family member, would I go to see her? A difficult decision had to be made as I was breastfeeding my first child (who had been born prematurely - see my post Christmas Complications) and I had no stock of expressed milk to leave for her. After some agonising I made the decision to not go and, as the hospital called again around 3am to tell me that she had died, I likely would not have made it. I was relieved to be told that a friend had been with her.

My worst was not being able to visit a dear Uncle who had fought the good fight against cancer for several years and was in steep decline. We had little money, my husband couldn't get time off work, I was 6 months pregnant with June and I had 3 children to consider (the older two being my stepchildren). I later found out that all his other nieces and his nephew managed to visit him in Cornwall - that no one thought to contact me to ask if I'd like to go with them still hurts, as does that my mother told him (without telling me) that I couldn't make it due to my family responsibilities. This would hurt less if it hadn't been for the fact that she was the person who refused to lend me some money which would have enabled me to drive down to see him the weekend before he died.