Priscilla van Oosten from Hoeven was only 19 years old when her mother Manon was told that she was terminally ill. In the three months that followed, everything revolved around saying goodbye, caring for each other and a mother who tried to protect her daughter until the end.
Manon had been suffering from complaints for a long time. She coughed a lot, but was told by the doctor that it was pneumonia. She was sent home again with a course of antibiotics. “But in the summer of 2017 the complaints became increasingly worse,” says daughter Priscilla. “The coughing was so intense that she bruised her ribs.”
Her mother had MS, which already made her health more vulnerable. “But I didn’t know this pace. She deteriorated incredibly quickly.” When the regular doctor is on holiday, Manon decides to knock again. A replacement doctor examines her lungs and immediately sends her to the hospital. “I saw the doctor’s look and immediately knew: this is wrong.” That turns out to be true, hard and painfully enough. “Two-thirds of her lungs were already full of cancer.”
Priscilla was 19 years old when her mother was diagnosed. Treatments are hardly possible. “Her body was too weak. Even the lightest chemo had a huge impact.” Radiation also appears not to be an option. “Then we knew: this is it.”
The period that follows ultimately only lasts three months. It’s all about the cancer. One week after the diagnosis, it is Manon’s birthday and she is blowing out 49 candles. “But we didn’t celebrate.” Priscilla takes care of her mother together with home care. “It was tough, but I wanted to be there for her, just like she was always there for me.”
And being there unconditionally for Priscilla, that typified Manon. Despite her MS and the fact that she was disabled, she was always there for her daughter. “She lived on benefits and raised me alone, but made sure I didn’t lack anything.”
“She was not only my mother, but also my best friend.”
Mother and daughter were inseparable. “She was not only my mother, but also my best friend.” And even though things were often tight financially, memories were made. “Every summer she made sure that we could go on holiday together and that there were presents under the Christmas tree. I will remember that forever.”
Even when Manon knew she wouldn’t get better, her focus remained on Priscilla. “She didn’t think about herself, but about me. How I would have to do this alone.” In the days after the diagnosis, she does everything she can to arrange things. “That I could continue to live in our house and that I would pass my exam.”
And above all: that her daughter would not feel fear. “In the doctor’s room she kept telling me that it would be okay. I believed her. Because when your mother says that, you trust it.” Later, Priscilla hears that Manon already felt that this would be the end of her life. “She didn’t want to do that to me.”
“I realized that I was now truly alone in this world.”
In December, Manon moves to a hospice, so that the care does not fall entirely to Priscilla. They celebrate Christmas there one more time. “With very mixed feelings.” On December 27, Priscilla goes home alone after her visit. “I knew that as long as I was with her, she wouldn’t close her eyes.” That day she promised her mother that she would finish her studies and everything would be fine. “She was already asleep, but I told her anyway.”
Manon died in the early morning of December 28, 2017. “Even though we had prepared for it, it came as a blow. I realized that I was now truly alone in this world.”
There is hardly any time to mourn. Priscilla arranges the funeral and returns to work shortly afterwards. “I had to pay my fixed costs. And I had promised my mother that I would complete my education, so I did everything I could to make that happen.” She continues, in pure survival mode.
Only the loss catches up with her. Priscilla ends up at home and is diagnosed with depression and post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). “I fell into a deep hole.” With help she slowly gets back up. “I now dare to say that I can look to the future again.”
“If she saw me sitting on the couch sad, she would kick me in the ass.”
December remains a difficult month. “Everything takes you back to 2017. Christmas is all about family, but I don’t have that anymore.” Yet this year Priscilla put up a Christmas tree for the first time. “I think my mother would be proud of where I am now. I had to endure a lot at a young age, but I got the perseverance from her. I carry that with me every day.”
And she also hears her mother’s voice in the back of her mind. “If she saw me sitting on the couch sad, she would kick my ass. I’ll keep going. For her. Like she always did for me.”
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